“I want the addict who is homeless on the streets, suffering, to know there is still hope.”
- Love What Matters
- Trauma & Healing
- Sexual Abuse
“I want the addict who is homeless on the streets, suffering, to know there is still hope.”
“Instead of feeling supported in disclosing my mental health history, I felt defensive. Called out by the form. Turned off by its questions. Ashamed.”
“The energy in the air felt thick—off in some way. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. ‘It must be nerves about the move,’ I rationalized.”
“I told myself that as long as I was alive, I’d never let anyone feel alone. That I would be the voice for the voiceless, and lead others to the light I once didn’t believe existed.”
“After my adoptive parents left me, I bounced from couch to couch with friends and ultimately ended up homeless, where I became the victim of sex trafficking. Life felt completely hopeless, but I persevered.”
“I’ve been through a lot, seen a lot, and been dealt a lot in my short 24 years of being on this earth, but I’ve come out on the other side, turned my pain into power, and now I get to live out my dream reality.”
“In 4 short years, I’d been removed at birth from my mother, placed into foster care, reunified with my birth father, and then placed back into foster care. I’d experienced family separation, failed reunification, abuse, neglect, and had already been named, renamed, and named again.”
“The abuse I endured is not a distant memory, it affects me to this day.”
“They say when people drown, it’s silent. Nobody around them can see them, hear them, or help them. The person drowning is slipping further and further beneath the surface, slowly suffocating. That’s what it felt like. I was drowning every day, suffocating, desperate for a breath, watching to the world around me carry on, with no idea that I was dying. But no matter how hard, I always choose to keep going.”
“My emotions do not control me or what I choose to do. I can smell roses and see color.”