Chapter One

My childhood was simple. Safe. Comfortable.

I don’t have a lot of memories from when I was young—but the ones I do have, I hold onto.

Growing up in a small rural community, surrounded by the same group of friends, life felt steady. Familiar. Our home was always warm and inviting. My mom had a way of making everyone feel like it was their home too.

There were family dinners.
Evenings ended with devotions before bed.

We were raised with values—clear lines between what was right and wrong.

My dad used to say to us,
“We brought you up knowing right from wrong. The choices you make now are a reflection of you—and of us. Choose wisely.”

And every morning before school, without fail, my mom would say:
“Always remember who you are.”

Those words stayed with me. They meant something then—but even more now.

Years later, I had them tattooed on my inner arm. A quiet reminder of where I came from… and maybe, who I was always meant to be.

As a teenager, I knew I was lucky. My parents were still together, while many of my friends were moving between homes, splitting time between different versions of family.

Looking back, I can see how much stability I had—how much love was quietly woven into the everyday moments.

I didn’t know it then, but this would be the version of me I’d spend years trying to find my way back to.

❤️If you’re reading this…