• My Journey 💜 - Uncategorized

    The Walls I Built Out Of Survival 🕊️

    October 31, 2025 - By 

    There’s a part of me that still flinches at kindness, a part that braces for disappointment even when nothing bad is happening. I’ve learned to call it what it is… survival.

    When you have been hurt, betrayed, or made to feel small, your mind learns to protect you in ways you don’t always understand. It can build walls that are disguised as independence. It can grow thorns where there used to be softness. It convinces you that being guarded is the same as being safe. 

    But recently, I’ve learned to sit with the uncomfortable truth that some of those walls are keeping out the very peace I’ve been praying for. 

    There are moments where my anger scares me. Not because it’s violent, but because it’s deep. It comes from all the years I silenced myself, from all the times I was made to believe that being kind meant being quiet. That forgiveness meant erasing my pain. I know now that anger isn’t the enemy. It’s the body’s way of saying, “I deserve better.”

    Still, there’s a tenderness underneath it all that never really went away. The part of me that still loves deeply, forgives easily, and wants to believe that people can change. Sometimes I get frustrated with that part. She feels a little too naive, too trusting, too hopeful… But I think she’s the truest version of me. The one who existed before the world tried to harden me. 

    The truth is, I’m both. 

    I’m the walls and the softness. The fire and the grace. The girl who still gets angry, but also the one who keeps choosing love anyway. 

    Healing isn’t about erasing your defenses. It’s about learning when you don’t need them anymore. It’s about recognizing that your strength comes from survival, but your peace will come from release. 

    You are not broken. 

    You are human.

    The fact that you still love…

    After everything that tried to make you stop…

    That…that right there says everything about who you are.

    Foster number 2 💕
  • My Journey 💜

    My Constant: Rocco 🐾💙

    October 31, 2025 - By 

    When I was 21, this sweet baby came into my life. It’s been almost 6 years with you. The smiles, the laughter, the cuddles, the kisses, and of course, the harder parts that come with being a pet owner. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.

    To me, there is something so healing about the way a dog can love you. No conditions, no expectations, and no questions. The kind of love that expects nothing other than your presence. Rocco doesn’t care if I’ve cried all day, if the house is messy, or if I haven’t quite figured life out yet. He still curls up beside me, reminding me… I am enough.

    He’s my protector, my adventure buddy, my swimming partner, and my home all in one.

    To Rocco: the dog who has carried me through every version of myself and loved me the same through them all 💙

  • My Journey 💜

    When They Try to Break You, Remember Who You Are

    October 30, 2025 - By 

    The other night was one of the hardest nights I’ve had in a long time. What was supposed to be a calm conversation to end things turned into something else entirely. A setup, chaos, manipulation disguised as closure. People I once trusted showed up not to make peace, but to perform control.

    It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. The last time was at the beach. Things spiraled the same way. Screaming, confusion, fear and I remember reaching a point where my body couldn’t take it anymore. I was shaking, barely able to breathe, and complete strangers had to drive three hours to come pick me up because I couldn’t function. My brain and body just… shut down.

    But the worst part? After all that, I still forgave him. I convinced myself it was a one-time thing. That maybe if I was calmer, kinder, and more patient it would be different. I kept believing in the version of him I wanted to exist, not the one that kept showing me who he really was.

    He’s the only person who’s ever pushed me to that point. The only one who’s ever made me feel like I was losing my mind. For years, I almost believed the version of me he painted. Crazy, unstable, mean, impossible to love. And for a moment that night, I’m sure that’s exactly what I looked like to the outside world. I went into fight or flight mode, I yelled, I cried, and said things I shouldn’t have. Until someone who has shown me what love really looks like stepped in.

    He didn’t yell. He didn’t judge. He didn’t try to control me. He just focused on me. Grounding me, reminding me to breathe, helping me find my way back to myself. I’ve never had that before. Someone who saw me in my ugliest, most chaotic moment and didn’t walk away. Someone who cared more about my safety than their ego.

    And then, two sweet women who had seen everything unfold came up to me afterward. They looked at me and told me how sorry they were, that they could see what really happened, and that I didn’t deserve that. Their kindness cracked something open in me. That reassurance from strangers, people who had no reason to lie or soften the truth. It made me feel a little less crazy in the moment. It reminded me that people see the truth, even when someone tries to twist it. It reminded me that I’m not what they say I am.

    That’s the thing about trauma. It lives in your body long after the person who caused it leaves. It waits quietly until something familiar reawakens it, and then suddenly you’re back in survival mode, fighting ghosts you thought you had buried.

    But this time was different. Because even though I broke for a moment, I came back quicker this time. I didn’t stay there. I had safe people around me. And that’s what healing really looks like. Not perfection, but awareness.

    I’m finally learning that I don’t need to keep trying to understand people who thrive on chaos. I don’t need to fix or soften what they’ve done to make it easier to look at. I can just call it what it is. Cruel, manipulative, and wrong.

    I didn’t cause this. I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t have to hold it anymore.

    So if you’ve ever been pushed to your breaking point by someone who swore they loved you, please remember this. Your reaction to abuse doesn’t define you. Their actions define them. And the moment you decide to stop carrying their chaos, that’s when you start coming home to yourself.

    Author’s Note:

    When I started writing What They Never Saw, I didn’t know how many moments like this I’d have to face again. Moments where the pain would rise back up like a wave, daring me to stay soft anyway. Writing isn’t just about telling my story. It’s reliving it with awareness. It’s reclaiming my voice from every time I was silenced.

    I’m not healed yet. I’m healing. And maybe that’s enough for right now.

    If you’re walking through your own version of this. The unraveling, the relearning, the reclaiming. I hope you know that you’re not alone. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is simply refuse to let their story become your ending.

    You can still choose peace. You can still rebuild. You can still come home to yourself. ❤️

  • My Journey 💜

    Learning to Release What Isn’t Mine:

    October 25, 2025 - By 

    The other day after work, I sat in the grass as the sun was setting. No plan in mind, no music, just Rocco and myself. I sat there and for one of the first times, I was present. I closed my eyes and turned towards the warmth of the sun. 

    It’s been heavy lately. Maybe it’s the job, maybe it’s just life, but I’ve been holding onto things that were never mine to carry in the first place. People’s pain, the chaos, the memories that replay over and over when I close my eyes. I think that people like me, people who feel deeply. We can mistake compassion for responsibility. We believe that we have to save everyone, hold it all together, and make it right. But all that ever does is quietly break us. 

    Slowly I’m learning that healing doesn’t mean that I always have to fix everything. Sometimes, being right in the middle of the mess and saying, “I’ve done all I can, and that’s enough.” It’s not easy. I still cry. I still overthink. I still wish there was more that I could’ve done for those people and moments that still haunt me. But the truth is, strength is not about never breaking. It’s about being able to come back to yourself when you do. 

    I used to always believe that my softness was weakness. That being sensitive made me fragile. But now, I see it differently. There’s a special kind of courage when you can feel it all and still open your heart up the next day. I don’t ever want to be hardened by life. I just want to be grounded. Aware, kind, and at peace. 

    So now I’m practicing letting go what isn’t mine. The guilt. The stories. The things I couldn’t change. I’m reminding myself that peace isn’t found in perfection. It’s found in the pauses. In moments when I stop holding my breath and finally let the light in. 

    If you’re in that same place. Trying to find yourself after carrying too much, I hope you remember this as well. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to put it down. You are allowed to be soft and still be strong. 

    Because maybe healing isn’t really about becoming someone new. Maybe it’s remembering who you were before the world told you that being gentle was a bad thing. ❤️