Finding My Voice: Becoming an Advocate for Hope and Transformation
I know that when I speak about overcoming adversity, many of you might wonder—what exactly were those adversities? It’s a fair question. The truth is, I often focus on the positive—on the goals I’m achieving, the momentum I’m building, the waves I’m making, and the joy of finally having a voice. But behind all of that, there’s a road I walked that wasn’t easy.
There are parts of my story that are hard to share. Even now, as I build my brand and lean into my purpose, I sometimes ask myself—does my audience really want to know where I’ve been, what I’ve faced, and what I’ve truly overcome? There’s always that shadow of guilt and shame and the fear of embarrassing my children or disappointing my family. Above all, I want them to be proud of me. So I wrestle with the question: how transparent should I be?
The answer, I’ve learned, is that transparency is something I get to decide—when, where, and how much I’m ready to share. As my healing journey continues, I open up in different ways. Sometimes, it’s through speaking engagements—whether I’m training volunteers who work with survivors of trafficking, inspiring donors at fundraisers, or standing alongside peers who have walked similar paths. In those peer settings, there’s often an unspoken bond—I hear you, I feel you, we’re in this together. That shared understanding makes it easier to be vulnerable.
Lately, I’ve felt called to bridge a gap in our communities: the belief that people can transform, that change is real, and that a person doesn’t have to carry the weight of old labels forever. The seasons of our past do not have to define us—they can shape us, refine us, and lead us closer to our most authentic selves. For me, those seasons—no matter how dark—ultimately brought me to a place where I can now stand with confidence, use my voice, and share a message that I hope brings light to others who are searching for transformation.
So what were the adversities I faced?
For over 20 years, I battled substance abuse. My life was a cycle of addiction—moving in and out of treatment programs, probation, supervision, and even custody. Addiction clouded my mind and dimmed my spirit. It created a fog that cut me off from the love and support of family and friends. The deeper I sank, the more isolated I became.
And as many of us know, we are shaped by the company we keep. In active addiction, I surrounded myself with people who were also fighting their own battles, and inevitably, their behaviors became mine. Lying, cheating, stealing, manipulating—whether I wanted it to or not, that lifestyle crept in. It’s proof that the people around us either lift us higher or pull us lower.
But here’s the most important part of my story: I am not who I once was. My past is not my identity. Those years of struggle shaped me, but they do not define me. Today, I stand in a place of freedom, transformation, and authenticity. My hope is that by sharing pieces of this journey, someone else will find the courage to believe that change is possible—for them, too.
Because it is.
And that’s why I’m here now—not just to tell my story, but to use it as a catalyst for change. I want to be part of the conversations that matter: advocating for mental health, supporting survivors, improving community policies, and helping nonprofits secure the resources they need to keep doing vital work. Whether it’s speaking at local events, sharing my voice on podcasts, or assisting organizations with grants and fundraising, I am committed to being a leader and an advocate for transformation.
This is bigger than me. This is about showing that redemption, growth, and authentic living are not only possible—they’re powerful.
