🌿 WEEK 1 — Prologue: The Little Girl Who Survived

Healing Journey Series — From Darkness to Light

Before I ever learned how to heal, before I ever became a mother, a woman, or a healer…I was a little girl who was just trying to survive.

From the day I was born until I was 8 years old, my world was small but full — a mother, a young stepdad who chose us, my two brothers, and a home filled with pets and childhood chaos. We weren’t perfect, but we were a family. There was love, laughter, and moments of peace that made sense to a child’s heart.

My mom was my safe place. She made life feel warm — picking blackberries, going to fairs, sitting together at the table, playing games, talking about everything and nothing. Even when money was tight and life was stressful, she made childhood feel like there was always a little bit of magic left for us.

But everything changed the day of the accident.

We were sitting at a stop sign in a blue station wagon when a van hit us on the driver’s side. I don’t remember the exact moment of impact — just the glass, the fear, and my mom shielding me with her body. That moment saved my life.

It also revealed something that would change everything: they found out she had cancer.

We moved to Puerto Rico for a short time after that. I remember how alive she seemed there — the sun, the freedom, the fresh air. But her health needed more care than Puerto Rico could offer, so we returned to New Jersey.

And then, without warning, she was gone.

Back then, children weren’t allowed in hospitals, so the last moments with her were stolen from us. My stepdad sneaked us in a few times, but it never felt like enough. One day she was there… and the next, she wasn’t.

I was only 8 years old. And the world I knew disappeared with her.

After her death, my brothers and I were sent to live with her parents — the beginning of a nightmare that would reshape my entire life.

My stepdad was no longer allowed to visit. My brothers were separated from me. The only people I had left were taken away.

No one spoke about my mother again. Her name vanished from the house, as if silence could erase the pain. I would write her letters for years, thinking she had abandoned me too.

But the truth was simple: I lost the only person who ever made me feel loved and safe — and I didn’t know how to live without her.

Looking back now, I can see that this little girl — the one who felt alone, confused, abandoned, and terrified — is the same girl who grew into the woman I am today.

She is the one who learned how to fight. She is the one who carried pain that no child should carry. She is the one who survived long enough for me to heal her. And today, I hold her with the love she never received.

This is where my story begins —with a child who lost everything…and still found a way to keep going.

💫 Takeaway:

The first wounds we carry in childhood become the roots of the healing we search for as adults. My journey began with loss — but it taught me how deeply the heart can rise.