My Story

The Full Story (kind of)

Growing up, I had so many dreams. Since I was a little girl, I was obsessed with dance, helping others, fashion, and interior design. I even fell in love with the trumpet. The last class I took before entering the system was drama, and I was really good at it too. I explored all these passions as a child, but they never led me anywhere. Everything I loved was constantly taken away from me. I was never truly supported in my dreams. I could name countless times I joined a dance class, signed up for cheerleading, or started customizing outfits. I was that puffy-skirt girl in middle school. But life always had a way of pulling me away from what I loved.

At 12 years old, I had a realization. I was living in chaos. And that was when I left home on my own. The further I got from the chaos, the further I drifted from my passions too. I spent my teenage years surviving. Foster homes, group homes, couch surfing, roaming the streets, and situations no child should ever have to navigate alone. But no matter how unstable life became, the sparks of creativity inside me never left. I still found ways to dance, to create, to dream. But turning those dreams into reality? That was no longer an option. I had to sacrifice my childhood, the very thing that fuels creativity, for stability, healing, clarity, peace, and safety.

For so long, I envied those who had the freedom to chase their passions with nothing holding them back. It felt unfair, like the world was against me, like I was being punished. Watching others freely express themselves while I was constantly being knocked down made me timid, insecure, angry, and avoidant. I was masking. At just 12 years old, I was alone, trying to navigate a world that never gave me a fair chance.

I know what it feels like to believe your dreams are out of reach. I know what it’s like to have so much creativity inside of you but be forced to put it on the back burner because survival comes first. I know what it’s like to feel like you have to give up on who you are just to become what the world is forcing you to be.

But then I found writing.

At 15, I started small. Poetry, little notes, journaling. Eventually, I wrote everything. I turned my experiences into art, making them sound more magical, more dreamy, as if rewriting my own story would somehow make it hurt less. My hands danced across the paper, my fingers gripping the pencil tightly, pouring my entire soul into words. Writing became my escape, my sanctuary. And for the first time, nobody could take it away from me.

My commitment to healing has always been about getting back to the path I once saw for myself. But opportunities never came knocking, and no one offered me a way in. So I made peace with the idea that maybe my purpose was never about just one dream. Maybe I was never meant to be known for one thing.

I used to feel like I lacked something because I couldn’t choose one creative path. But now I realize I lack nothing. Everything I need is already within me. My mind is my art. My imagination has always been my greatest gift. It allowed me to escape when I had nothing else. It kept me hopeful, innocent, and sweet, even when the world tried to harden me.

But now, at 20 years old, I understand something deeper. My purpose was never just about me. It was about others.

I know what it feels like to be a child with big dreams that feel impossible to reach. And if my journey can be a guiding light for just one person, then it has all been worth it. I want to remind others to take themselves seriously, to bet on their creativity, to embrace every opportunity they get, and, most importantly, to cherish the people who support them because that is what I needed when I was that little girl with big dreams.

My dreams no longer belong to just me. They are much bigger than that now. And I am honored that God entrusted me with these experiences, even at the expense of myself.

I love the woman I am becoming. And I cannot wait to be the light for every child who thinks their dreams are too far out of reach.

This is just the beginning. 

PART 2  (EXTENTED)

Now that my mom is gone, I finally feel able to speak openly about the things I went through in my childhood that led to me being in the system. My childhood was filled with chaos and trauma. I was left with strangers for long periods of time. I experienced abuse, neglect, and unsafe situations no child should ever go through.

I witnessed violence in my home. I was hurt by people who were supposed to protect me. My brother mistreated me in painful ways. I ran away from home many times. I was taken advantage of by older men. I got involved in things I did not understand. I turned to substances to cope with the pain at a very young age.

The emotional abuse from my mother started when I was around eleven. She began to isolate me. One time, she left me in a group home and did not contact me for over a week. When she finally came back, we moved to BC. I was already numb to a lot of what I had gone through, but something about that move brought the pain to the surface.

I was abandoned in so many ways. My mom remarried and started a new family. My brothers and I became her last priority, even though we still lived in the same home. Things got much worse in grade seven. She took me out of school, destroyed my clothes and belongings, broke my instruments and my phone, and completely cut me off from the outside world. I felt completely alone, so I ran away.

I had no protection. I lost my innocence at a young age. I started acting out, running from almost every group home and foster home because I could not trust anyone. I got into fights, partied, smoked, and threw myself into unhealthy situations. All of this happened before I even turned sixteen.

I dropped out of school and worked to survive. I had to buy my own food, clothes, and everything I needed to live. Sometimes I returned home, but it was always temporary. I was never allowed to eat their food or use basic things like the washing machine. I even had to buy my own toilet paper and pads. I was a child, trying to survive on my own.

These experiences left me with lasting stress and mental health struggles that I still deal with today. I am off probation now. I had my daughter at seventeen, a year after I finally got my own place. I started healing. I went to horse therapy. I moved away from my family and my city because I just wanted peace. I wanted a quiet life.

My version of success is different from most people’s. I travel often because I carry too much trauma tied to Canada. There is still so much I have not spoken about and may never speak about. I never thought I would be able to socialize again. I was isolated and withdrawn. But last year I took a risk and tried to open myself up to the world, even knowing I could never keep that lifestyle long term.

Stress affects me quickly. I burn out easily. Being neurodivergent makes everything even harder. And no, I do not have a sugar daddy and I do not live off child support. I am an adult in the system who receives support for school, housing, and the resources I need to build a future for myself. These are the things many others already have access to. This support allows me to survive.

Before anyone looks at me as privileged, please understand that all I have ever wanted is a family. A place where I am truly loved and accepted. A home where I do not have to fight to be seen or cared for. I have never had that. Most of the people I have loved carry deep trauma too, and because of that, they struggle to form healthy relationships or truly connect.

But I have grown. I made the choice to grow. I ran away from home because I needed to. I confronted my family because I had to. I have done everything by myself. Money means nothing when you do not have real support or genuine love. People will still come into your life only to take from you, even when you are barely holding it together.

I believe that if I had not experienced the trauma I did, I would be unstoppable. And I still am, just in a different way. A more grounded and realistic way. I have met many other survivors who hide behind social media, trying to appear happy while being trapped in silence, all to protect a family name or keep the peace.

But what is the point of any of it if everyone is secretly hurting and using substances to escape reality

I am not ashamed of who I am or of the life I live. I know it does not look like the picture-perfect life some people expect. But I am tired. I do not have the energy to constantly please everyone or perform for others just to be accepted. One thing is for sure. I will never give up on myself. I will also never compete with others to get ahead. Not because I do not want to, but because I cannot.

I am fighting through years of trauma. I cannot afford to be around drama and toxicity. My nervous system simply cannot handle it. I do not want to be an influencer. I do not want to chase clout or live for likes. There are real people suffering behind those curated online lives. I have seen it my whole life.

I do not struggle to keep relationships because I do not know how. I struggle because I refuse to live in illusion. And many people do. Especially men. So many of them do not even like the lives they are living, but they are too afraid to break free from expectations. That fear creates even more pain.

My life is far from perfect, but I do not pretend it is. I am not perfect, and I never claimed to be. I just know that I cannot take any more damage. I am too sensitive. I have been through too much. I am too honest to pretend that everything is okay when it is not.

I believe in truth. I believe in justice. I believe people should be seen for who they really are. Not for how they appear. And I believe healing is possible. Because I am proof of that.

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