Fighting For My Future

Breaking Free From My Past

Against all odds, I’ve overcome many life changing obstacles and made it to this point. My journey has been shaped by agony, tears, doubt, and pain, all driven by relentless hustle and determination. I’m Denay Sky, born on December 17th, 2000, in San Antonio, Texas. I’m a licensed manicurist and a multi-passionate entrepreneur, building my empire, 4DAYZE. Above all, I’m a proud mother of two. 

This is my truth. It’s not meant to make anyone feel any type of way, but rather to offer a view of my life from my eyes. I am going to highlight some major turning points in my life to teach some important lessons I learned early on, lessons that helped me become the person I am today.

Growing up with absent parents and a complicated family dynamic, I faced abandonment issues, low self-esteem, and struggles with anxiety, trust, and emotional growth. My mother was more of a holiday figure, and my father was completely absent, leaving me with a constant sense of loss and isolation.

Their absence taught me the kind of parent I never wanted to be, and showed me how important it is for my children’s fathers to be present in their lives. Despite these challenges, my grandparents taught me the value of hard work, ambition, and self-reliance, which helped shape me into the fearless, determined woman I am today.

I grew up in a Presbyterian church, but I struggled to believe in God. Faith was something that was forced on me, and with all I was going through—especially growing up without my parents—I couldn’t connect to it. From the moment I was born, I lived with my great-grandma, grandma (my mother’s mom), ‘step’ grandpa, siblings, and whoever else they took in along the way. My childhood is mostly a blur, clouded by emotional overload and the stress of it all.

The Cast Of My Chaos

My great-grandma was strong-willed, brutally honest, always giving, and independent, yet dismissive. She held the family together until she passed. RIP G MA

My ‘step’ grandpa, with his old-school wisdom, taught me the value of hard work, discipline, and dependability. He showed me what it truly means to provide for those you care about, all while maintaining a laid-back, nonchalant demeanor. He taught me that blood isn’t thicker than water. He never switched up on me, and despite the ultimatums, he was always there for me. He’s done everything he could to help me succeed, and even though we’re not biologically related, that’s my dad.

My grandma is a paradox—both deeply caring and ruthlessly cold. She shaped me into a woman who is ambitious, fearless, compassionate, and, when necessary, unyielding. She also struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder, depression, and bipolar disorder, which added complexity to our relationship. She’s also always volunteering at church, giving back to the community, helping out at the food bank, and distributing food. She basically a neighborhood daycare with all the kids she watches and is always helping whenever she can. Her purpose in life is to nurture and take care of the family. Even though sometimes she’s challenging to tolerate, she’s important in everyone’s lives. Holding the family together.

My mom, my “older sister,” always thought life was a joke when I was growing up. Back then, she was a stripper, and we were exposed to a lot at a young age when we went to visit her. By the time we stopped spending the night at her place, it was clear her lifestyle was taking a toll on us. I remember going to school exhausted from staying up all night taking care of my siblings while she did her own thing. It got to the point where the school started calling my grandma, and after that, we weren’t allowed to stay over anymore. My grandma don’t play about phone calls from the school.

My mom has always chosen men over us. Her priorities were completely out of order, and it showed in her decisions. I’ll never forget when she left her apartment in her name to go live with a guy who didn’t even put her on his lease. He eventually kicked her out, and she ended up living in her car. That car got repossessed, and she found herself homeless and on drugs, living on Vance Jackson and I-10 under the bridge or with my pedo uncle.

I do believe my mom has a story to tell about how she ended up this way, and I’m sure it’s filled with pain and struggles I may not fully understand. But from my point of view, she was someone who was cool to hang out with, not a role model or someone I wanted to be like. She’s the reason I hold onto my morals so tightly and refuse to sell my body for profit. Her choices showed me the kind of woman I never wanted to become, and that’s why I’m so committed to living with integrity and building my life on my own terms. While I can acknowledge her humanity and the hardships she’s faced, she’s never been the example I wanted to follow.

I’m the oldest of three, and my brother and I share the same father. I’ve always taken on the role of the mother figure, always by my grandma’s side—whatever she needed, whenever she needed it. I’ve been there, 10 toes down. But I’ve also always been the type to say, “I don’t need anybody. I got me. 1DEEP.” I’m the person who won’t hesitate to cut someone off when needed. I’ve proven I can do it on my own, so everybody falls in line. My presence is a blessing, and I refuse to surround myself with people who don’t respect me. I wasn’t always this way—I used to shut down, keeping quiet instead of speaking up. But then I realized, how do you expect people to know how you feel or change if you don’t say something?

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that once my grandparents are gone, I’ll have only my siblings. That’s why it’s important to me to address things as they happen, rather than pushing them aside and pretending everything is fine. I want to ensure that my grandparents experience pure bliss in their later years and that my brother and sister are on the right path to creating good lives for themselves. Growing up, we were looked down upon. As a unit, we were seen as “my mom’s children”—and people expected us to let our circumstances define us. But I refuse to let that happen. I know better, and I’m determined to change the narrative for myself and my family.

My sister, the middle child, has ADHD and depression. We didn’t grow up close—we strongly disliked each other. Things started to shift when I got kicked out, and we began spending more time together after she also got kicked out and lived with me. I let her stay with me, encouraged her to pursue her education, and helped her with some favors. However, over time, I realized that I have friends who truly show up for me, who are more solid and reliable than she has been. While I’ll always be there for her if I’m the last one standing, I’m no longer in the front row because I’ve learned to prioritize myself and my peace.

It hurts me when I’m down bad, and she’s nowhere to be found. But when she needed help or encouragement, i was there for her. Whenever she called, I would pull up—whenever she had a problem, I had a problem. I’ve always been there for her without hesitation. But now, I’ve learned that I can’t keep pouring into someone who isn’t willing to pour back when it counts. I’m not going to stay in a one-sided relationship where the support only flows in one direction. I deserve mutual respect, and I’ve realized I need to prioritize my own well-being first.

My brother is the youngest, my ride or die. We were incredibly close growing up, but now he’s lost and trying to find himself. He is now in college, working, and figuring life out. He got it the easiest and has always been the favorite. He has a good head on his shoulders and a bright future ahead of him.

All three of us are doing something amazing for ourselves, and I couldn’t be more proud of the life we have ahead of us. I ask God every day to allow my grandma and grandpa to watch us and see the success we’ve worked so hard to achieve.

The Weight Of Us

After I turned 12, everyone started isolating. We don’t really know each other on a deep level.

We stopped eating dinner together, and the house was filled with constant yelling, negativity, and an overwhelming sense of unhappiness. Everything felt forced. In middle school, I immersed myself in sports just to stay at school longer. By the time I was 16, I got a job at Taco Cabana, working after school, overnight shifts, weekends, and overtime—all for $7.50 an hour—just to escape home.

Our household handled issues by pretending they didn’t exist. There was no healing or space for hearing each other’s feelings—it was all about authority and moving on as if nothing ever happened.

To understand my mindset and what I had to walk away from, I want to share that I isolated myself and locked myself away. Even though I had a family, it was broken, and I always felt mentally alone. I’m grateful to my grandma and grandpa for providing financially, but the truth is, they were broken too. They carry unhealed trauma that they never dealt with, and that pain was passed down to my mom. If you ask me, I believe it’s part of the reason my uncle joined the military and moved away. Both of my grandma’s children left the house at a young age, and it’s because my grandma is a strong, “my way or the highway” woman—rightfully so. It’s her world, and we’re just living in it.

But now, it’s my world, and I’m no longer tolerating things that don’t serve me. That mindset, however, hasn’t come easily. Growing up in a family where problems were either ignored or escalated into conflict taught me to shut down emotionally. As a family, we’re so strong-minded that we’d all rather walk away and be alone than take the time to hear each other and understand how situations make us feel. We’re so passionate that our discussions often come off as yelling, and things escalate quickly, leaving little room for resolution. This environment made it hard for me to feel safe expressing my emotions, which led to feelings of loneliness and emotional isolation.

We’ve been through so much to get to this point, and I’m incredibly proud of everyone’s growth. Especially my grandmas and the way she’s calmed down over the years. She’s not perfect—none of us are—but I never thought we’d be able to talk again, and I’m so grateful to have her in my life now. I have the mental capacity to truly understand and appreciate this beautiful, crazy dynamic we call family.

Carrying the weight of generational trauma has been an ongoing struggle. Their pain became my pain, and it’s taken a lot of effort to break those cycles. I’ve realized that unhealed wounds don’t just disappear; they linger, influencing how we treat ourselves and others. The pressure of being the family “helper” or “mother figure” has often made me feel overwhelmed and anxious, especially while trying to build my own life and ensure that my siblings are on the right path.

In this family, we all know we don’t need each other, but we work together because we understand that time is not forgiving. We’ve learned to make it work, knowing that our time together is valuable and irreplaceable. And while we’re all independent, it’s the kids who truly keep us alive and happy. They remind us of the joy in life, the importance of connection, and the love that holds us all together despite everything.

At one point, I lived with a “1DEEP” mindset—fully self-reliant, never asking for help, and quick to cut people off. While this mindset gave me strength, it also built walls that were hard to break down. I’ve struggled with trust and vulnerability, finding it difficult to let people in or believe they’d be there for me. For a long time, I believed my presence was a blessing in others’ lives, and I refused to surround myself with anyone who didn’t respect me. While that’s still true, I’ve learned that balance is important.

On top of that, constant exposure to negativity, yelling, and unresolved conflicts left me with high levels of stress and anxiety. That stress shaped how I approached relationships, conflict, and even parenting. It’s hard to balance being financially and emotionally present for my children when I didn’t have a healthy example of what that looked like growing up. Still, I’m determined to break those cycles for my kids and ensure they grow up feeling secure, loved, and supported.

I’ve also learned that just because I don’t need anyone doesn’t mean I can’t accept help or support when it’s genuine. Vulnerability is not a weakness, and by allowing myself to feel and communicate openly, I’ve been able to foster healthier connections. This realization is a big reason why I’m working hard to repair family dynamics rather than avoiding the issues. Once my grandparents are gone, it’s just my siblings and me. That’s why it’s so important to me to address things now and ensure my grandparents experience peace and joy in their later years.

Growing up, my family was looked down upon. As a unit, we were seen as “my mom’s children,” and people didn’t expect us to amount to anything. They thought we’d let our circumstances define us. But I’ve worked hard to prove them wrong. I’m breaking every generational curse, creating a better future for myself and my family, and showing my children that their story will be different.

 

Now that you’re familiar with everyone and the story so far, my journey begins in 2012 when I was 11 years old, and my birthday completes the year. There’s so much more to tell, but this is just a short summary to help you understand things quicker. I’m not trying to tell anybody else’s story—just how I saw the situation, how it made me feel, and how it either helped or tried destroyed me. 

 

2012: 11 Years Old
Granny Tried To Take Herself Out
Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt
Hunger Games came out, I remember sitting downstairs on my brother’s birthday, August 18, which happened to fall on a Saturday. I tried to watch the movie, but the tension in the household kept me from focusing. Later that night, my sister and I were upstairs, eavesdropping through the vents as we overheard my grandparents arguing downstairs. On Monday, my grandma called me downstairs. She was lying in her room with the lights off and told me that I was going to need to take care of my brother and sister. So, I did what I had to do. I called them downstairs, told them to stay in the front of the house so my grandma could rest, and texted my grandpa to bring a box of Hamburger Helper, as I had already taken out the hamburger meat. When my grandpa came home, we were in the kitchen together. I’ve always been able to sense when something is wrong, and I could tell something was off when he started frantically running back and forth between the door and his room, looking for the keys. I went back to check on the food, and when he returned, he opened the door and struggled to tell me to call 911—my grandma had shot herself. The weight of that moment hit me hard. I froze. I grabbed the phone, called 911, but didn’t even know the address. I ran outside with my brother and sister, trying to find the house number. After finally calling for help, I helped my momo to my grandma because the amount of blood was overwhelming, we weren’t sure she was going to make it. Meanwhile, my grandpa was moving cars to help EMS get through faster. When the paramedics arrived, they accused him of being the one who shot her because he had picked up the gun. I stepped in and saved him from being arrested that day because they had me bent. He was cooking with me the whole time until he heard what he heard. By the grace of God, the bullet entered and exited, missing my grandma’s heart by just a few millimeters. This happened right before I was set to start 6th grade at an all-girls school the following week. I was 11, facing something no child should have to deal with, and it was impossible for me to process the gravity of it. Despite everything, we pretended like nothing happened. When my grandma came home from the hospital and recovered, she would constantly make me relieve the situation, trying to piece everything together for herself. It was hard for me, and I felt like I had to take on the weight of it all.
 
2013: 12 Years Old
All Girl’s Middle School

During this time, I found myself often disliked, caught in constant drama. I wasn’t afraid to call people out, even bullying the bullies. I questioned authority and always stood up for what I believed was right, which didn’t always win me any favor. The school I attended was a free private school, one I desperately wanted to attend after being bullied in elementary school. I didn’t want to go to my local middle school, so this school seemed like a fresh start. But it wasn’t all it appeared to be. The school played favorites, particularly with children of staff members, and with such a small student body, it wasn’t uncommon for adults to act immaturely, singling out or mistreating certain students. Despite all of this, I worked hard to stay focused. I was a good student in GT, bringing home strong grades, and staying involved in extracurricular activities. I played volleyball, basketball, ran track, and danced. I joined every club or event I could to stay busy, but no matter how hard I tried, I always felt like an outsider. It was around this time that I also realized I was attracted to girls. I kept this part of myself hidden from my grandparents, as I knew they held old-school values and I didn’t think they would understand or accept it. I would stay after school with my girlfriend at the time or get involved in whatever she was doing just to spend time with her, trying to protect that part of myself from judgment. These were some of my darkest days. I constantly struggled with insecurity and was painfully aware of all the things I disliked about myself physically. I was going through everything any typical teenager faces—insecurities, fitting in, self-identity—but on top of all of that, I was also carrying the weight of my grandmother’s pain. Her unspoken struggles were mine too, and it made it even harder to navigate my own growing pains. But in looking back, I can see how those challenges taught me some of my most valuable lessons: the importance of self-acceptance & standing up for myself even in the darkest times.

 
2014: 13 Years Old
College Overload
The school I attended was a college preparatory school, which meant every summer we had homework to complete before school started. Even during the time my grandma’s situation happened, I remember standing in line with the teacher asking for the summer homework, knowing what I had been through. By this time, I was being singled out for calling out the favorites, and my relationship with my girlfriend was falling apart. I really wanted to leave and transfer to the local middle school, but my grandma insisted I couldn’t quit, so I completed eighth grade. Attending this rigorous school exposed me to the pressure of college-level expectations. The stress and workload, including extensive homework, made it harder to balance everything in my life. It affected my mental well-being, causing anxiety and burnout. As a middle schooler, handling such a heavy academic load was overwhelming, especially when trying to hide my personal struggles, like my feelings for girls, from my old-school grandparents. The school’s competitive environment, with its favoritism and demanding expectations, left me feeling isolated and stressed, while I also had to cope with personal issues and the pressure of trying to fit in. I let the girls around me bully me into giving up a full-ride college opportunity. At one point, I regretted that decision, but now I no longer do. I’ve realized that many of those girls, who were pushed into pursuing something they didn’t truly want, are now lost and confused. They listened to their parents and the school’s pressure, instead of following their dreams, and are now stuck in paths they never wanted for themselves. My experience taught me the importance of following my own desires and making choices that align with who I truly am, even when the world around me tries to tell me otherwise. Looking back, I think this program is great for people who know exactly what they want to do after graduation or going into it. But it’s not meant for people who have no idea what they want and are forced into spending four years pursuing something that will leave them unhappy later. The pressure and expectations can be overwhelming for someone who is still figuring out who they are and what they want out of life. It’s important to make choices that align with your true passions, not just because it’s what’s expected of you.
 
2015: 14 Years Old
Ran Away
Finishing middle school, I decided to branch out and attend a high school on the west side to join the business careers program. By the time I entered high school, I had already earned four high school credits from middle school, which meant I was taking classes alongside older students. Little did I know, the environment I was stepping into and the challenges I was about to face would completely shift my perspective on life. When I started high school, I was on track to be valedictorian. I was enrolled in all AP classes and working towards college credit in business. I also played volleyball and ran track, staying active and focused. At the west side school, I actually felt like I fit in more because many of the students there had similar backgrounds to mine. A lot of them didn’t have parents and were raised by their grandmas, or they had difficult childhoods, which made it easier to connect and form friendships. This is when DAYZE came to life, someone asked me what my tag name was at the west side school so we came up with one together. DAYZE is my first name mixed with my middle name. D***E + SKY mixed around with a Z added I got DAYZE. It sounds like “days“ & kept it ever since. However, things took a turn when my sister found some MJ in my room, she told my grandma, and I received a phone call while I was at school. After class, I ran away, told one of my friends and he took me to the red tops across the street, which led me to a known trap house. At the time, I didn’t realize it was a trap house, but I soon found out when officers arrived, knocking on the door and threatening to raid the place if they didn’t send me out. I was escorted out, placed in handcuffs, and brought back to the school jail. From there, I was released into my grandparents custody. Following that incident, I was unenrolled from the west side school and placed in a private school with predominantly white, wealthy students. Looking back, I realize that I never truly fit in at that new school. I was isolated from the environment I was used to and struggled to find my place. But despite the struggles I faced, those experiences taught me valuable lessons. I learned resilience in the face of adversity, understanding that no matter how tough life got, I had to keep pushing forward. I also realized the importance of self-worth, that my value wasn’t defined by where I was or who accepted me. It was about staying true to myself and knowing I was worthy, no matter the circumstances. My struggles also taught me empathy and connection, as I built meaningful relationships with people who shared similar backgrounds. I learned that running away only led to more problems.
 
 
2016: 15 Years Old
It’s Denay B*tch
I started this year off strong with a Britney moment—shaving the bottom half of my head, slapping designs on it, and going to a school that had uniforms but allowed for full dress on certain days. At the time, I was struggling to find out who I truly was. I didn’t have any electronics because I was being punished for running away. But that’s when I began diving into makeup heavily this was the time when bold makeup was trending. I loved experimenting with colorful looks and bold eyebrows. I started learning how to edit videos and record makeup tutorials on YouTube once I got my phone back, and I was taking it seriously. However, I quickly became discouraged when people found my videos and would laugh at them or play them in front of me, especially since I didn’t like hearing my own voice. During this time, I had another girlfriend, and this was my first serious relationship. During all of this, I was able to switch from a sophomore to junior with the credits that I had later that year, my great-grandma passed away. It was a huge loss for me, and I felt my faith in God slipping. I stopped going to church and began to lose the sense of peace I had once found in my spirituality. It felt like my world was crumbling, and I struggled to find any kind of comfort in religion or in anything I used to believe in. The family fell apart. Everyone stopped talking to each other, and it felt like greed took over. Some family members had wanted to put her in a nursing home, but we had taken care of her until the end—helping her with everything. We would butterfly her cuts, give her baths, wipe her, brush her teeth, and do whatever she needed. Yet, after she passed, the audacity of some family members to disrespect my grandma and our efforts was infuriating. It was heartbreaking to see the family divide over money and control when we had given everything to care for her, and it only added to the pain I was already feeling from her loss. If anybody says they’re related to me, tell them they’re lying. I do not claim them. The way they’ve treated me and my family has made it clear that the bond we once had is gone. All the love and effort we put into our relationships was met with betrayal, and I’m done pretending that they’re anything close to family. The support I needed from them never came, and I’ve learned that I’m better off without them in my life.
 
 
2017: 16 Years Old
Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt
After my momo passed away, I started to isolate myself again. By this time, I had been working at Taco Cabana for about a year, and I was using school and work to distract myself from everything I was going through and feeling. I told myself I couldn’t handle dealing with another person anymore, so I made the decision to take some time alone. But that decision led to my girlfriend at the time attempting suicide. This was the second person in my life who had tried to take their life, and it hit me hard. I called the cops, thinking she was bluffing, but it turned out that if I hadn’t made that call, she would’ve overdosed. She was immediately admitted to Clarity, a mental health facility. This experience taught me several painful lessons. First, it reinforced the importance of not ignoring someone’s cries for help, even when they seem like they might be exaggerating or bluffing. It showed me how serious mental health struggles are, and how vital it is to take action when someone is in distress, even if it’s uncomfortable or hard to believe. I also learned the weight of responsibility that comes with being in a relationship, especially when one person’s struggles can affect both people deeply. I carried the guilt for a long time, believing that I should’ve done more, and it took me a while to realize that I couldn’t save anyone—only support them. At such a young age, dealing with multiple suicide attempts from loved ones affected my mental health deeply. It contributed to feelings of guilt, helplessness, and anxiety, and it made me question my ability to handle relationships or be a support system for others. It was hard to process my own grief and struggles, let alone be there for someone else who was going through something similar. I didn’t know how to manage my own emotions, let alone help someone else with theirs. This was also during my senior year of high school, and it was around the time I met my first best friend. As I struggled with my mental health, I began sneaking out and putting myself in dangerous situations. Looking back, I can see that I was trying to escape from everything I was feeling, but I didn’t know where to go or how to get the support I needed. I was self-destructive, and that was a way for me to express the chaos I was feeling inside, without fully understanding how to cope with it. Despite all of this, meeting my first best friend was a turning point for me. It showed me the value of true friendship and the importance of surrounding yourself with people who understand you.
 
2018: 17 Years Old
MUAFORDAYZE & BAKEDFORDAYZE

At the beginning of 2018, I met my kids’ father through my best friend. We were part of a large group that spent time together before and after school. Over time, we all became close friends. However, when my daughter’s dad found out I was with my son’s dad, he left the school, and I never saw him again. By the end of that summer, I had graduated and started taking baking and makeup more seriously. No longer tied to school, I threw myself into creating YouTube videos and experimenting with makeup looks. I went by the name “YVNGDAYZE” and began vlogging regularly, determined to get my name out there. Makeup became my creative outlet—a way to express myself when words weren’t enough. I would sit down and apply makeup over and over, wiping it off and starting again, trying to perfect my eyebrows, eyeliner, and cut creases. I wanted to be a makeup artist so badly. I dreamed of being an influencer, making videos, and inspiring others through my artistry. My dedication started paying off as people began noticing my talent. Prom season rolled around, and I was fully booked, charging $45–$60 for my services. Yet, despite my progress, I allowed other people to discourage me. I let them determine my future, doubting my ability to succeed. Looking back, I can’t help but imagine how much farther I would be today if I hadn’t let others limit my dreams. I knew from an early age what I was meant to do. Even though I allowed others to dim my light for a time, everything I learned and taught myself has paid off in the end. The skills I gained—editing, recording, creating digital content—laid the foundation for the life I’m building now. The passion I had back then never left; it simply evolved into something greater.

 
2019: 18 Years Old
Air Force & Getting Kicked Out

In the household I grew up in, the expectation was clear: college or military—there was no in-between. If you didn’t have a plan, the military was seen as the default option. There was no time to figure things out, no space for uncertainty. This pressure heavily influenced my decision to enlist in the Air Force, as I believed it was my only viable option at the time. That year, I went through the entire enlistment process. I completed every requirement and was confident I was on the right path. But then my recruiter informed me that I had to take what I thought was a pre-trial exam, which turned out to be the real thing. Completely unprepared, I failed by just two points. I was devastated. When I got home, my grandma insisted I take a drug test. Frustrated and emotionally drained from failing the exam, I told her I wasn’t in the mood and admitted I’d fail the test. My tone and attitude sparked a heated argument, and tensions boiled over. Already of age, I was told to leave. I packed two bags and walked out, never looking back. That was the last time I ever spoke to my grandma or lived at home. Looking back, I realize that being at my grandma’s was enabling me in ways I didn’t see at the time. It allowed me to stay comfortable and stagnant, giving me no reason to push myself or grow. Getting kicked out was a harsh wake-up call, but it forced me to step out of my comfort zone. For the first time, I had to work harder than I ever had before just to survive. After getting kicked out, I felt like I lost a part of myself. I stopped doing YouTube videos, stopped creating makeup looks, didn’t bake anymore, and didn’t pick up a paintbrush. I lost all sense of creativity, and for a while, I didn’t even know who I was. The hobbies that once gave me joy and purpose were gone, replaced by a need to simply get by. This experience taught me one of the most important lessons of my life: I never wanted to rely on anyone else for my needs. That feeling of being stuck, with nowhere to go, was something I never wanted to experience again. It gave me the drive to work for what I needed, to become independent, and to ensure I could always stand on my own. Failing the Air Force exam showed me that preparation and perseverance are key, but it also taught me that failure isn’t the end—it’s a redirection. Losing my creative outlets reminded me how vital they were to my identity and mental health. Getting kicked out of my grandma’s house was painful, but it was the moment that pushed me to grow, to fight for myself, and to work toward a future I could be proud of.

 

Lessons From The Storm

Resilience is something you build, not something you’re born with. Life will throw challenges your way, and you’ll face moments where giving up feels easier than pushing forward. But every step you take, no matter how small, makes you stronger. You have the power to choose resilience, to rise above your circumstances, and to keep moving forward even when the odds are stacked against you.

 Breaking generational cycles is possible, and it starts with you. Just because you grew up a certain way or inherited pain from your family doesn’t mean you have to carry it forever. Acknowledge the trauma, face it head-on, and work on healing so you can create a better future for yourself and those who come after you. You have the strength to be the one who ends the cycle and builds something new.

Self-reliance is a superpower. When everything around you feels unstable, trust yourself. Learn to set boundaries, stand firm in your worth, and take control of your life. While it’s important to accept support when it’s genuine, knowing you can rely on yourself gives you the foundation to handle anything life throws your way.

At the same time, vulnerability is strength. I used to think asking for help was a sign of weakness, but I’ve learned that opening up and letting people in is how you build deeper, healthier connections. Don’t let pride or fear keep you isolated. True strength lies in being able to trust others and share your journey with those who genuinely want to support you.

Finally, forgiveness is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself. It’s not about excusing the harm others caused—it’s about freeing yourself from the weight of anger and resentment. When you forgive, you allow yourself to move forward without carrying the burden of the past. It’s a process, but it’s worth it.

 

My story is proof that no matter what you’ve been through, you can create a life that’s meaningful and fulfilling. You have the power to rewrite your narrative, heal from your pain, and build the future you deserve. Keep pushing, keep growing, and never stop believing in your ability to rise. At this moment, I’m not entirely sure how I want to express my feelings about my children’s fathers. Right now, things are calm and we are co-parenting peacefully. Since everything is still fresh, I’d rather not stir the pot any further. While it may be chisme for you, it's real life for me and my spawns. We've been though some stuff together, that is to real for the world. When the time feels right, I’ll share more about the experiences I’ve been through, but for now, I’m choosing to leave it here. I hope something you read inspired you or helped you understand me a little bit better.

 

 

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