29d • Introductions
Hi, this is my story.
I didn’t grow up in a stable world, but I did grow up with a mother who did everything she could to raise me on her own. My parents divorced when I was six, and from that moment on I learned how quickly life can change and how fragile stability can be. My mother became my anchor. With her, I felt safe, protected, held. She gave me warmth, presence, and the deep knowing that someone was truly on my side. She did her best with what she had, and it mattered more than she ever knew.
Even with that safety, life around us wasn’t always gentle. I learned early how to adapt, how to be strong when circumstances became uncertain, how to carry more responsibility than a child should have to. As a child, I experienced sexual boundary violations by someone who was supposed to be safe. I didn’t have language for it back then. I learned to disconnect from my own feelings in order to survive.
Loss entered my life early. I lost my grandfather. Later, suicide became part of my family story. Then I found myself in a toxic relationship, where love and pain slowly became tangled.
And then I lost my mother. Not just a parent, but the one place where I didn’t have to be strong. Where I could rest. Where I was held without needing to explain myself. Her absence didn’t change everything loudly or all at once, but in a quiet, permanent way that stays with you every single day.
For many years, I had no contact with my father. From my mid-teens into my late thirties, there was distance, silence, and unresolved pain. When my mother was admitted to the stroke unit, he showed up. Without conditions. Without explanations. He stayed when I needed support the most. And when we had to bury her, he stood beside me and held the funeral speech. In that moment, something inside me settled. Not because the past disappeared, but because it no longer needed to be carried with anger. That was when I was able to let go of the pain of being left, not by forgetting what happened, but by accepting what was.
Three years ago, my brother-in-law took his own life. Another loss. Another reminder that some things don’t come with warning or closure. I didn’t heal from these experiences in a straight line. I survived them. I broke from them. And I rebuilt myself piece by piece.
This community exists because I know what it feels like to carry too much alone. I know what it’s like to look strong while everything inside feels unsteady. I know how lonely it can feel when people offer positivity instead of presence. I’m not here to fix you. I’m here to walk with you through the parts you don’t yet know how to hold.
If you’re here, chances are life has been heavy for you too. Maybe you had to grow up too fast. Maybe you learned to rely mostly on yourself. Maybe you’re tired of being the strong one. In this space, you’re allowed to ask questions. You’re allowed to be unsure. You’re allowed to say, “I don’t know what I feel, I just know something hurts.”
I answer personally. I don’t disappear. And I won’t rush you into healing language when what you really need is understanding. You’re not here to become someone else. You’re here to come back to yourself. And if you’re still standing after everything you’ve been through, you’re already stronger than you think.
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Hi, this is my story.
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