After my parents split, it was just Mom holding down the fort for us four kids – my two older siblings, my younger brother, and me. Mom worked nights to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. We weren’t swimming in money, but somehow, we managed without feeling like we were missing out. Yet, despite her efforts, Mom was emotionally distant. Hugs, kisses, and heartfelt ‘I love yous’ were scarce in our household. School events? Forget about it. Participation in extracurriculars? Only for the boys. As her daughters, we were handed aprons instead of opportunities, taught to cook, clean, and babysit our way through childhood.

You see, Mom’s upbringing mirrored ours in many ways. But what set it apart was her narcissistic streak. Everything had to revolve around her. Instead of fostering family closeness, she pitted us against one another, turning home into a battleground of mood swings and manipulation. So you can imagine, home wasn’t exactly a sanctuary. Even now, decades later, stepping foot in that house sends shivers down my spine.

However, that tumultuous upbringing cultivated a unique skill in me – the art of observation. I could walk into a room and instantly sense Mom’s mood, her energy practically palpable. It wasn’t a pleasant way to learn, but it honed my ability to read people, to spot deception, and to question motives. I became hyper-aware, always on guard, even around my own family.

At 16, the age when rebellion runs rampant, Mom kicked me out. She probably expected me to come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. But fate had other plans. I found myself couch-surfing, then hitting rock bottom, which has a way of reshaping you. In that darkness, I became a master manifestor.

I vividly remember a night in a cold park, feeling utterly defeated. It was there, in the silence, that I heard a voice – my inner voice – asking me what I truly wanted. And so, I made a plea to the universe: to never be reliant on Mom again, to pursue education, career, and independence. It wasn’t an easy road, but step by step, my wishes materialized. I trusted in my guides, and they never led me astray.

My journey hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I carry scars and stories that weigh heavy on my spirit. Home has never been a place of warmth or belonging, but I’ve learned to create that for myself. My siblings and I have navigated our share of challenges, finding healing along the way. Through it all, I’ve remained grateful for the lessons learned and the guidance of my spirit guides and ancestors. They’ve been my constant companions, guiding me through the darkest nights and into the light of a better tomorrow and everyday after.