My Story: Beauty in the Broken Places

[Disclaimer: This post contains mentions of abuse. If you or someone you know needs help, please reach out to the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or visit www.thehotline.org.]

I thought it was time to share a little more about myself —
where I come from, and how I ended up here, writing to you.

My life hasn’t been a straight, easy path.
I became a mother at just 17 years old.
At a time when I needed support the most, I found myself standing alone.
My mother was living in another country, and my father — he was never really a part of my life at all.
The father of my first child came from a family who treated me like I had "ruined his life."
Instead of love and support, I faced judgment, isolation, and shame.

For a while, I tried to hold everything together.
But the truth was, behind closed doors, life was breaking me apart.
Only two years after my child was born, I saw the truth:
the man I thought I could build a life with had become abusive.
The emotional scars were deep — the words that tore me down, the fear that grew in the quiet moments.
And then came the physical abuse — a nightmare I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I was trapped in that relationship for five years.
It started when I was just 14 years old, and the abuse began after I gave birth to my firstborn.
Two years of fear, of pretending everything was okay, of losing myself a little more every day.

But one day, I made a choice.
I chose me.
I chose my child.
I found the courage to leave.
With no car, no easy way out, and no real plan, I packed what little strength I had left and moved to another state.
I taught myself how to drive.
I started over, scared but determined.
Step by shaky step, I began rebuilding my life — learning how to survive, how to hope again, how to fight for a future that didn’t look like my past.

For a while, I thought I had found it —
love, hope, a second chance.
I fell in love again with a man who painted the world in a different light for me.
I truly believed life was turning around.

But it didn’t take long to realize that behind the beautiful picture was something even worse.
This man made me a mother for the second time.
This pregnancy was harder — emotionally, mentally, physically.
Even though this time there were no bruises on my skin, the mental and emotional abuse cut just as deep.
I had to start seeing a psychologist.
I left my job to become a full-time mom, believing I was making the best choice for my sons.

Meanwhile, he was living another life behind closed doors.
I stayed home raising our children, believing in a dream — while he was out acting like a single man.
He would pay the basic bills but left me without any personal support —
I couldn’t even buy toiletries or new clothes; I was still wearing my old pregnancy clothes, feeling invisible, abandoned, stuck.

I got sick and tired of surviving instead of living.
I found a job, even though it was hard juggling everything on my own.
And still — he would accuse me of the very things he was doing, making me doubt myself, making me feel small.

It wasn’t until everything boiled over financially, emotionally, spiritually —
that I realized I couldn’t live like this anymore.
After almost six years in that relationship, I made the hardest, bravest decision of my life.
I took all of his things out of the house.
I demanded he leave.

It wasn’t easy.
It didn’t end quietly.
We went through court battles, long and painful months — almost nine months of fighting for peace, for safety, for freedom.

But I made it.
I am making it.

Becoming a mother changed everything.
My children are my heart, my reason, my everyday reminder that there is still so much good ahead.
Motherhood stretched me, broke me open, and somehow made me stronger than I ever knew I could be.

I’m still learning — how to balance dreams and reality, how to forgive myself for not being perfect, and how to build a life full of small joys even when the road is hard.

I don’t have it all together.
Some days I still feel like I’m barely hanging on.
But every day, I choose to believe that God is still writing a beautiful story with my life — even from the broken places.

This blog is part of that story.
A way to open the door just a little, to share the real and the raw, and maybe remind someone else that they are not alone.

If you’re reading this —
thank you for being here.
Thank you for being part of my journey.

We’re just getting started. 🌿

A Message from My Heart to Yours:

No matter how broken your story feels, it is never too late to turn the page.
You are not what happened to you.
You are the survivor, the fighter, the brave soul who kept going when it would have been easier to give up.

If you are living through pain right now, know this:
You are worthy of love. You are worthy of peace. You are worthy of starting over.

Don't be afraid to take the first step, even if it’s small.
God will meet you where you are.
Healing isn’t easy, and some days it feels impossible — but you are stronger than the storm.

And you are never walking this path alone.

Keep shining, even when it feels dark.
Your light is needed more than you know. 🌟