Who’s ready for some personal truth bombs!?

If I’ve learned anything it’s that when you arm yourself with the truth, nothing can penetrate it. So, I’ve decided to arm myself with my truth.

My hope for sharing my truth is that I can empower others who may be in similar situations to stand up for themselves and absolutely refuse to tolerate anything less than what they deserve.

Dedicated to everyone who wonders if I write about them. I do. And if you wanted me to write differently about you, then you should’ve behaved better.

My road to awakening has not been an easy one. Well, my entire life has not exactly been an easy one. I grew up never knowing my real father so right off the bat I always felt there was something missing from my life. My step-father was emotionally unavailable to say the least so

I grew up with some pretty dysfunctional views of how the world worked. I was raised in a private Christian school and grew up in the church so one issue I particularly struggled with was watching everyone in my life behave in such a hypocritical way. Claiming to be full of Gods

love while secretly treating those in their lives like dirt. My “Christian family” has more skeletons in their closet than the Addams family. Growing up with such dysfunction lead me to make some less than stellar choices. At 19 I became pregnant with my son and by 20 I was a

parent. Our son was 6 weeks old the first time his father hit me. I don’t remember much, just waking up the next morning with a broken jaw and fractured collar bone. Of course, I was promised it would never happen again and foolishly, I listened.

By the time my 21st birthday rolled around things had only gotten worse. And that night he almost strangled me to death. That was when I knew it was time to leave. Because if he was okay doing this to me, how long was it before he was okay doing this to our son?

Leaving an abuser is never an easy feat regardless of how you try to prepare yourself for it. After making the decision to leave things only became more difficult. My son and I were homeless with no where to sleep other than my car and as a parent, I cannot begin to explain the

guilt and shame and anguish that just absolutely consumes your soul in that situation.