The Walk To Freedom
May 13, 2017 is a day forever etched in my memory. I carried so much anxiety and fear in my heart, but somehow, that night brought me a peace I didn’t realize I could have again.
The weeks leading up to May 13th were filled with distance. I had become nothing more than a roommate to a man I once called my partner. We barely spoke. We moved around each other like strangers, and honestly, I didn’t care to be anywhere near him.
On the night of May 12th, I went out with a friend. I came home around 3 a.m., almost as a way of “teaching him a lesson,” hoping he’d feel even a fraction of the hurt he had put me through. But he wasn’t home either.
Around 4:30 a.m., as I was trying to fall asleep, my phone began going off. It was a text from him: “All your things will be outside on the lawn since you’re not home.” When he came inside and realized I was there, everything escalated. He grabbed my phone and went through every app, searching for anything he could use against me—things I had seen him do countless times on his own phone. This went on for hours.
When I finally tried to take my phone back, he locked himself in a room. I ended up taking the doorknob off just to get in. It was nearly 6 a.m. by the time I got it back. As the sun came up, I took my dog outside. He followed me out with a beer in hand. I don’t remember what we were arguing about, but suddenly he turned and threw his beer bottle toward me. Maybe he wasn’t trying to hit me—but whether he meant to or not, it was unacceptable.
After things calmed down for a moment, I went back inside to try to get an Uber to pick up my car. In the middle of another argument, he kicked my phone out of my hand so hard it hit the ceiling. When it fell, both sides were shattered, and he just began laughing.
He then walked to the dresser, pulled out his gun, placed it in his hand, and looked at me. Our eyes locked for a moment. I didn’t recognize him. It was like something dark had taken over him entirely. The fear I felt in that moment is something I’ll never forget. I ran out of the house, praying I wouldn’t hear the gun go off behind me.
I waited outside for a long time, trying to gather the courage to go back in. When I finally did, he was lying on the bed on his phone. I grabbed a few clothes, my dog, and walked out. As I left, he got in his car and started driving recklessly. I couldn’t tell if he was following me or not, but it certainly felt like it. I cut through alleys and hid whenever I thought he was near.
Eventually, I made it to a Walgreens after a 20-minute walk. I tried to ask for a phone, but I couldn’t get any words out. My throat closed—I couldn’t breathe or speak. I was in the middle of an anxiety attack, but somehow, I managed to calm myself enough to call a friend. She didn’t answer. She was the only number I knew besides my parents, and in that moment, calling them didn’t feel right—even though now I wish I had.
So I walked.
Seven miles.
Three and a half hours.
Just me and my little dog.
I hoped my friend would be home. I remembered it was her husband’s birthday and felt defeated before I even reached her street. When I saw her driveway empty, my heart sank. I decided I would walk the rest of the way to my car.
Then—thirty seconds later—she pulled in. I broke down crying when I saw her. She helped me inside, let me call my work, and then drove me to pick up my car. She was a light in one of the darkest moments of my life.
Around 12:30 p.m., I went back to the house. He was on the couch. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t speak—I just started packing. When he asked what I was doing, I calmly said, “I’m finally leaving.”
He told me I would regret it.
I looked at him, thinking about our nine years together—mostly filled with pain, lies, and manipulation—and said, “There’s no way I would regret this.”
As I drove away, I called my dad and asked if I could come home. He didn’t hesitate.
That first night back home, I felt peaceful in a way I hadn’t in a long time. No break-ins. No drive-bys. No substance-fueled chaos. I was safe.
Leaving was one of the hardest and easiest decisions I’ve ever made. The emotional journey after was rough, but through it, my relationship with God grew stronger. Looking back, I can see all the times He was with me, even when I didn’t notice.
Watching your partner struggle with substance abuse is unlike anything else. You learn how to speak, how to move, how to exist around them. You tread lightly, knowing anything—even your tone—can set them off. They become a ticking time bomb. And you slowly lose yourself trying to keep them from exploding or attempting to keeping them safe.
I’ve learned that leaving wasn’t just about escaping danger—it was about reclaiming my life, my peace, and my faith. In those moments, I was looking at a human whose heart so desperately needed Jesus, and I realized that no amount of love from me could fix what only God could. I learned that courage isn’t the absence of fear, but moving forward despite it. I learned that I am stronger than I ever knew, and that my worth is never defined by someone else’s chaos.
That night, that morning, that walk—it all became a turning point. I didn’t just survive; I began to live again. And in the quiet moments since, I have carried with me a profound truth: safety, peace, and love—both from God and from myself—are not things I have to earn. They are things I deserve.
Leaving wasn’t the end of a story; it was the beginning of my peace and my freedom.
In 2022 I met the man of my dreams. My husband is the strongest, most loving, and most respectful man I’ve ever known. He is someone I once doubted I’d ever be lucky enough to find. The way he loves me is different—steady, safe, and nothing like what I knew before. He is my safety, my quiet place, my home. He’s dependable and trustworthy in all the ways that truly matter. He shows up even when I don’t ask, and he grounds me when my world feels too loud. As a husband and a father, he is present, and I truly feel blessed to call him mine.
And the truth is, I didn’t need to go through the hurt I went through to recognize a good man. But that past relationship did something— it opened my eyes. It made me appreciate my husband on a deeper level. It showed me the difference between someone who drains you and someone who chooses you every single day.
If you’re in a relationship that feels suffocating — where every day seems to crumble a little more and you can’t see a way out — believe me when I say this: there is light at the end of your darkest tunnel. There is hope, there is peace, and there is a life waiting for you that doesn’t hurt to live.
But you have to be brave enough to take that leap of faith and choose yourself. Walk away from the spaces that no longer hold room for your heart, your growth, or your worth.
Jesus didn’t give you this life for you to spend it feeling small, unseen, or disrespected. He created you with purpose, value, and strength. Don’t waste that beautiful life staying with someone who cannot honor who you are. You deserve love that feels safe and peace that stays.
The Healing Power of Difficult Conversations
Communication has never come easily for me—especially when I’ve been hurt. I used to bury things deep inside, forgive without explanation, and move on without an apology. Forgiveness is never a bad thing, but without communicating how you feel, you unintentionally create space for people to repeat the same behavior. We teach others how to treat us. When you allow poor behavior, even just once, you leave the door open for disappointment.
Over time, I’ve realized this silence can be just as damaging as the hurt itself. I’ve been on both sides. I’ve been hurt, and I’ve hurt people I deeply care about. And I’ve learned that when communication is missing, relationships often end—not because the love wasn’t real, but because silence left no room for healing.
That’s why it’s equally important to be open to hearing when you’ve done wrong. No one enjoys being told they hurt someone they care about. But if you truly love, respect, and value that person, the effort to repair is always worth it. Those hard conversations don’t signal the absence of love—they’re actually proof of it.
Of course, difficult conversations don’t always go as planned. They may not end the way you’d hope. Sometimes the other person won’t be willing to engage, and that’s something you can’t force. In those moments, the healthiest thing you can do is release it—let go, free yourself, and move forward.
Because in the end, solid relationships are not built on gossip, excuses, or lies. They’re not defined by how long you’ve known someone. They’re built on mutual trust, respect, accountability, and true character. A healthy relationship is one that keeps growing and evolving—together.
Something I’ve come to understand is that every relationship—friendship, family, or partnership—requires care, effort, and honest communication. It can never be one-sided. Real connection is intentional: planning time together, making the call when distance separates you, and choosing to stay connected. But it only works when that effort is mutual.
And because of that, I’m so thankful for the few people who love me deeply and bring peace into my life. They know who they are—and I’m forever grateful for them.
Becoming Mama: The Beauty and the Growing Pains
I remember once saying, “I’m happy with or without children.” What I didn’t realize then was just how much joy, admiration, and unconditional love a child could bring. It’s no secret that children bring an indescribable amount of joy—but what about those tender months leading up to that first meeting? The transitional months where life changes faster than you can even process?
In 2022, I was working as an independent hairstylist—happier than I had ever been. I was focused on my career, traveling with the man of my dreams, and soaking up the best season of my life. But something still felt missing.
At the time, I was searching for an assistant, thinking that was the kind of growth I needed. I specifically remember praying, “God, I need a change, and I don’t know what kind. You know what I need and what my heart desires. I trust you.” Let me tell you—LOL—pregnancy was not the kind of change I had in mind.
On October 21, 2022, we found out we were pregnant. I came out of the bathroom smiling through tears of joy—and fear. As I looked at Nick, he nodded and asked with excitement, “I’m going to be a dad?” His reaction was everything I needed. That moment was overflowing with love and happiness. And then… it went quiet. Reality set in. The weight of bringing a human into this world—the responsibility, the unknowns—it was no longer just about Nick and me, but about how we would raise this sweet baby.
As the weeks passed, I began to feel the symptoms of pregnancy. Some were physical, like the constant bloating. Others were emotional, like the depression that slowly crept in. Pregnancy is often painted as a glowing, magical season—and in many ways it is—but it also carries a heaviness. I wasn’t sad about being pregnant, but about how quickly life was changing. I cried almost every morning during that first trimester, asking myself: What will my life be like? Will I still travel? Will I sleep again? Will my baby be healthy? What will delivery be like? Will I keep working?
Then came the body changes—and the comments from others that always seem to follow. Clothes grew tighter, until eventually nothing fit but the same two pairs of black leggings. I wondered: Will my partner still find me attractive? What if my body doesn’t “snap back”? Will I get stretch marks or loose skin? These worries may sound superficial, but they were real. And I know many women carry them quietly too.
I compared myself constantly to other pregnant women and scrolled through postpartum journeys on Instagram, praying I’d get my body back quickly. It was a tough season—but one thing carried me through: my Nicky. Having a supportive partner through such a delicate time is, in my opinion, a necessity. Sadly, not every woman has that, which makes me all the more grateful for his steady love.
The rest of my pregnancy had its ups and downs, but it was mostly good. Feeling my baby girl kick, twirl, and hiccup was magical. Even as my body stretched and shifted, I stood in awe of what it was doing—creating life.
On June 19, 2023, I gave birth to my daughter. The most surreal and peaceful day. She was—and still is—the most perfect little angel. I thought my life was full before, but now I know it’s better than I could have ever imagined.
Looking back, I see that all those worries were valid. I was mourning the old version of myself, knowing I’d never fully be her again. But motherhood is a higher calling. Growth hurts, but it leads to beauty. We still travel, we’ve taken many trips with our baby, and we’ve built a new rhythm of life.
My Emi girl and I get to wake up to slow mornings together. We make breakfast, dance in the kitchen, we get to go on coffee runs and Target trips. Best of all, I get to watch her grow and learn every day. I’m living in the middle of an answered prayer.
My body was made perfectly by God, designed to function as it should with nourishment and care. All the fears I once carried feel small now. But at the time, I was just living in the unknown.
If you are pregnant, hoping to be, or already a mom navigating heavy moments, I promise—it will pass. You’ll see pieces of your old self woven into the new mother you are becoming. You’re growing into someone more beautiful than you can imagine. Take care of yourself. Eat well. Move your body. Get some sunlight. God is with you. Give yourself grace. This transition will bring more joy than you ever dreamed. Sending you love. 💛
When Dreams Reflect
I woke up in a panic, grateful it was just a dream. But why was I continually having this same dream? For years I have had the same reoccurring dream that I’m driving and couldn’t gain control of the car. It was becoming so often that I felt in my heart that there had to be some deeper meaning behind it.
For years It stayed the same—until the end of 2018. That’s when the dream began to shift. Instead of me struggling to gain control, my car began to continuously flip. This dream reoccurred just like the last one, leaving my heart heavy.
At the end of January 2019, I had that same dream. I again was changing freeways and as I began to turn, my car began to flip. This time, in the passenger seat was my sweet doggy Diva. As the car continued to flip, I remember feeling a calmness and peace I’ve never experienced. I was no longer shaken up and afraid. I simply held my dog close to my chest, and we jumped out of the window.
It was such a strange yet calming dream. I never thought it was about my excellent driving skills. But the question as to why it would reoccur continued to linger. It wasn’t until early February 2019 I was chatting with some of the other hairdressers at work that I heard Gods voice for the first time in a very long time. As I was sharing with them that final dream, I had to excuse myself. I ran to the bathroom and began to sob. I felt so much gratitude and peace. I finally understood! It wasn’t until that point that I realized that all those dreams I was having was Gods way of redirecting my life.
At that time, my life was full of chaos, trauma, and uncertainty. In 2017, I ended a highly toxic nine-year relationship only to fall into another kind of toxicity— alcohol. I drank to numb myself and avoid the inevitable. Being wrapped up in this way of life gave me a sense of belonging amongst the “party” crowd. But that lifestyle took its toll. There were nights that I would binge so much that I would still feel intoxicated the following day at work. Sleepless nights left me anxious, drained, and unwell. I gained weight, lost peace, and drifting further into self-destruction.
It was a drive home that I had no recollection of that turned into the wake-up call that I desperately needed.
2018 is when I made the decision to release the “party” life that was weighing me down. Starting with removing alcohol and removing people that were only influencing unhealthy behavior. I began making healthier food choices and forming healthier habits. 2019 I had quit the job that gave me some stability for the time I needed most but no longer was serving my growth. Stepping into self-employment gave me more freedom, peace, and space to focus on what truly mattered.
Making these changes marked the beginning of a journey toward a healthier, happier and more fulfilled life. And best of all, brought me closer to Jesus.
I’ve learned this—God never leaves you. He’s always there— even in the chaos. The problem wasn’t the absence of His presence; it was the direction of my attention. He came to me so many times during those years, but my heart was distracted. Those dreams were a reminder to let go, surrender, and trust Him.
As I reflect on those heavy years, I can see His Grace and His protection through it all.