Why I’m Finally Writing My Story: From Chaos to Strength

I was recently told that I should start writing about my life growing up because my story might resonate with a lot of people, and honestly, I think they’re right. For a long time, I’ve buried so much of my past, not because I was ashamed, but because surviving it meant learning to move forward without looking back too often. But lately, I’ve realized that maybe it’s time to share what shaped me, not for sympathy, but to show others that no matter where you come from, you can build something beautiful out of broken pieces.

Someone asked me the other day how my relationship with my parents was, and whether my kids have a good relationship with their grandparents. My answer stopped them in their tracks: “No, my kids have never met my mother.”

The truth is, my mom left me when I was about 14. She didn’t leave me completely alone, though, I was staying with my boyfriend and his family at the time. My mom and dad had split up when I was nine, and from there, everything changed.

When I was younger, my mom was a good mom in a lot of ways. She was still struggling with addiction even then, but she kept it under wraps. I learned a lot by being raised by an addict and you can read that article here too! Our house was clean, we had food on the table, and to the outside world, we looked like a normal family. But after she and my dad split, things spiraled fast. My childhood turned into a blur of food banks, welfare lines, and learning how to bend society’s rules just to get by.

I have some ridiculous memories that haunt me and others that make me laugh. This one night my parents were fighting, she left the house in a panic, and my mom drove this pile of crap car. The headlights barely worked, stereo never worked so my cousins who rode with us had to hold a boombox in their lap, the windshield wipers didn’t work and it was pouring rain. We had just went to McDonald’s and gotten some cheese burgers as we drove around with tears and anger clearly written on my mother’s face. Suddenly she turned too tight and missed the corner and drove through the ditch. She punched the gas so hard we flew out the other side and she swerved quickly to the side of the road. The impact hit us so hard we all flew out of our seats, it wasn’t common to wear seatbelts in the 90’s (for my family anyways), the boom box went flying, and there were cheeseburgers stuck to the ceiling of the car. As scared as we were it was such a funny sight to see we all just started giggling through the fear. 

It wasn’t easy, and there were days that felt impossible, but somehow, I kept going. I learned how to survive, how to take care of myself, and how to keep believing that life could be better. And it did get better.

Today, I’m a successful entrepreneur, a wife, and a mother. My life looks nothing like the chaos I came from, and that’s exactly why I’ve decided to start sharing my story.

I recently spoke to a publisher who told me I have a story of strength and resilience that needs to be told. She said my journey, from abandonment and instability to building a life filled with love, stability, and success, could help others who’ve lived through similar pain.

So this is me, taking that first step. This is the start of a new chapter where I share the old ones, the hard ones, the ugly ones, and the ones that shaped who I am today. Because if my story can show even one person that it’s possible to rise above your past and create a life you love, then it’s worth telling.

I have thought about the feelings that may get hurt from me sharing my story, but it’s my story to tell, and it’s a good one, and I would never lie about my past to connect with others. 

Stay tuned, there’s more to come. 💛