My Testimony

(Be Advised: Sensitive Topics)

To truly understand who I am—and why I carry such a heart for women—you have to understand where I came from.

No filters, no hiding, no judgment.

Just truth.

This is me.

I grew up in a broken family, in a childhood that was often marked by chaos, unpredictability, and abuse. Addiction lived in my home. There were dangerous situations, broken promises, and nights that no child should have had to endure.

Throughout my teen years, I was shuffled into doctors’ offices and treated like a medical guinea pig—told my pain was imagined, self-inflicted, or simply “a girl thing” I’d outgrow.

Before I turned 13, I had tried to take my own life three times.

I lied to people who loved me most, not because I didn’t love them, but because I was hurting so deeply inside that I didn’t know how else to explain the pain.

As a young woman, I carried those wounds with me.

I married early, determined to be the opposite of what I’d seen at home, only to repeat mistakes I swore I’d never make. The marriage ended quickly.

I struggled with love, fell too hard, and lost myself in the process, more than once.

But here’s the truth: I had already accepted God into my heart at the age of 11.

I was His, even when I stumbled. I knew when I was walking down the wrong path, and the shame and guilt of those choices weighed heavily on me.

Yet God.

God met me in my lowest places. He forgave me, again and again. He extended mercy when I couldn’t forgive myself. He walked beside me as I processed, broke, healed, and rose again.

He gave me a family. He made me a mom—something I wanted yet was terrified of, knowing what I’d experienced growing up.

He opened doors I never would have asked Him to open, because I didn’t even know what to ask for.

And the thing is—this isn’t just a story of what God did in one moment of my life.

It’s the story of how He was there all along.

His protection and His timing were written into even the darkest parts of my childhood.

By all odds, I shouldn’t be here—or at least not in one piece. But He kept me.

He protected me during drug deals where I was hidden in the backseat of a car. He shielded me in dive bars and dangerous apartments. He spared me from being in the car during a drunk driving accident that could have taken my life. All of this, before the age of four.

He placed my dad in my life—the one who raised me, who did his best to protect and provide, who taught me the Ten Commandments when I was six. Years later, that same teaching came full circle when he was able to pass them on to his grandson at the very same age.

He gave me friends who were lifelines through some of my hardest seasons. He also removed people who would have destroyed me, even when I didn’t understand it at the time. 

I wasn’t perfect—not even close—after I accepted Christ. I was like precious art, still in pieces, that He patiently kept putting back together even as I kept knocking it off the pedestal. It took time before I stopped tripping over the same mistakes.

But He never gave up on me.

And here’s what humbles me most: He saw me as worth it.

He created me for more, for a purpose, and He refused to let my story end in brokenness.

He pruned me, restored me, and molded me into a living testimony.

Now, when I look back, I can honestly say I’m grateful.

Not that I deserved the pain, not that I wish the mistakes on myself again—but grateful that God used them to give me empathy, perspective, and a story that can reach others.

I’ve been able to share my testimony with teenage girls who desperately needed to know someone understood.

I’ve been able to connect with women from all different walks of life—because I’ve lived through trauma, burnout, mistakes, and failure, and I know what perseverance looks like on the other side.

I still face transitions and learning curves. But now I know—they’re shaping me for purpose. They’re meant to be used for teaching, for helping, for showing others that survival and perseverance are possible.

And for that, I will praise Him every single day.