My Story
From the very beginning, I was immersed in an environment where love was conditional, obedience was paramount, and fear was the cornerstone of faith. Born to young, earnest parents deeply committed to a strict, literal interpretation of the Bible, my earliest memories were shaped by an expectation to conform. My questions and resistance to blind obedience earned me the label of "rebellious," a reputation I carried throughout my childhood. What I didn’t know then was how profoundly these early experiences would shape my subconscious beliefs, binding me in ways I couldn’t fully understand until much later in life.
One of Jesus’ most severe warnings in the Bible was against harming children, yet the greatest harm isn't always physical. It’s the programming of a child’s mind with beliefs that make them feel inherently bad, unacceptable to God, and terrified of abandonment. This harm roots itself in their identity and becomes the lens through which they see themselves and their relationships.
For me, this programming began early. I was taught that love and approval were contingent on obedience, and disobedience was met with punishment—not just from my parents but from a God who could leave me behind. This fear was foundational, subtly dictating my choices, behaviors, and self-worth, even as I believed I had broken free.
The realization that my subconscious beliefs were still in control came much later, catalyzed by moments of profound questioning and pain. While these catalysts are many, what’s critical to understand is that the deeply ingrained beliefs I absorbed as a child did not simply disappear when I walked away from the church or questioned its teachings. Instead, they continued to shape my life, my relationships, and even my sense of self—until I began the journey to uncover and rewrite them.
A pivotal moment in my awakening happened on the bathroom floor, where I collapsed in exhaustion and desperation. I had spent years searching for scriptural justification for my suffering, reading the Bible cover to cover six times, hoping to find the permission to be free from my toxic marriage. But in that moment, something profound occurred—I saw the words not as literal commands but as myth, metaphor, and allegory. It was as if a veil had lifted, and for the first time, I understood that the Bible was never meant to be read as rigid law but as a map of consciousness, a mystical text encoded with deeper truths. This realization shattered the foundation of my literalist upbringing and set me on a path of true spiritual liberation.
But before that realization fully took hold, I found myself in the throes of a brutal divorce with a clinical narcissist—an experience that was not just a legal battle, but a battle for control, power, and force. It was the physical embodiment of everything I had been programmed to endure. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and drowning in despair. Leaving wasn’t just about signing papers—it was about unwinding the deep, subconscious programming that told me I had no right to leave, that my suffering was righteous, that I was failing God, my children, and even myself.
Then came the breaking point.
Leaving court one day, utterly defeated, I stepped outside, flipped God off, and asked the question I never thought I’d get an answer to: Where the hell are You? Have I been abandoned AGAIN? Because that’s what it felt like—abandonment. Over and over. But what I didn’t understand in that moment was that I had abandoned myself. By believing the lies about women. By believing I had no right to make choices that served me. By internalizing every false teaching that told me I was here to sacrifice, to endure, to serve everyone but myself.
And then, like a cosmic slap in the face, I received a message—one that felt completely out of place, yet landed like a lightning bolt in my soul. “You are reading it all wrong.”
It didn’t immediately make sense. My body was in a state of trauma, somatically frozen on the floor for hours, unable to process what had just happened. I had unknowingly received a quantum physics lesson. The Bible was not a book of rigid law—it was an encoded map of consciousness.
And then the confirmation came. A phone call. A sudden, unexpected shift. My ex had been placed in psychiatric lockdown—something I could have never orchestrated or even dared to pray for. The battle for control had collapsed in on itself.
Leaving is not an event. It is a process.
People need to know this. They need to know that the unraveling of these deep, destructive patterns doesn’t happen in one singular moment—it happens in waves, through breakdowns and breakthroughs, through questioning and collapsing and rebuilding again.
This journey is not about escaping—it is about returning to the truth of who you are. And I am here to guide you through it.
