I grew up in a home where my mother was constantly working and my biological father was absent. As a young girl, I looked to the men in my life for the love, protection, guidance, and security I desperately needed. I believed I had father figures I could trust, never imagining that one of the people closest to my family would become the source of unimaginable trauma. As a child, I experienced sexual abuse at the hands of my relative. When I found the courage to speak about what had happened, I was met with blame rather than the protection and understanding I needed. Yet, in the middle of that darkness, one of the men I had trusted as a father figure believed me, took me to the hospital, and helped make sure my relative was removed from the home.

That experience changed me. As I grew older, I witnessed painful and troubling circumstances involving my family. I made a promise to myself that I would never repeat the patterns I had seen growing up. I believed I could create a different life, but life took me down roads I never expected.

At sixteen, I became pregnant. Shortly after my daughter was born, I married and entered a relationship that would expose me to another devastating cycle of abuse. What began as a marriage became years of physical, emotional, and psychological pain. There were black eyes, busted lips, painful knots on my head, and wounds—some visible and many invisible—that I wondered would ever heal. As more children came into my life, I found myself trying to survive while holding a family together. Intimacy became something I used to calm the chaos around me, rather than something rooted in love, safety, and connection. I was trying to find peace in circumstances that continually took it away.

But somewhere inside of me, a voice kept saying, “There has to be something better than this.”

 

I had attended church for much of my life. I knew about God, but knowing about God wasn’t the same as knowing how to truly call on Him, trust Him, and surrender my life to Him. I had to learn that through experience.

Music had always been a part of my life. From a young age, I was musically gifted and played in church. When music was removed from my school, however, I began looking for another way to grow, learn, and create a future for myself. I decided to attend truck-driving school, following the path of my husband, who was an over-the-road truck driver. Earning my CDL represented much more than learning how to drive a truck; it represented freedom.

 

For the first time, I could see a possibility beyond the walls of an abusive relationship. I could imagine independence. I could imagine becoming the woman I knew I was capable of becoming. But when I told my husband about my plans, he demanded that I stay home. My decision to pursue my education resulted in the worst beating I had ever experienced.

Still, I kept learning. I took classes whenever I had the opportunity. I pursued knowledge because something inside me refused to die. Even when people tried to convince me that I couldn’t become more, I continued searching for ways to grow.

Eventually, I found myself in another marriage—one filled with mental and emotional abuse, deception, and manipulation. Once again, I had entered a relationship that caused me to question myself and my worth. And that was one of the hardest battles of all, because the truth was, I was beautiful, intelligent, productive, capable, and full of integrity—but I didn’t see myself that way.

 

I had spent so much of my life surviving that I had forgotten how to recognize my own value. But God had not forgotten me. Through every broken place, every disappointment, every tear, every relationship, and every moment when I wondered why I was still going through these things, God was teaching me something. He was teaching me to trust Him. He was teaching me that my past did not have the final word. He was teaching me that surviving was not the same thing as living.

Eventually, I cried out to God, “What is my purpose? Why have I been through all of this? And how can I use what I’ve experienced to help someone else?”

 

That question became the beginning of something greater. It became the foundation for the Let’s Talk In The Beginning Podcast.

This podcast was born from a desire to reach back for the person who may still be standing in the place I once stood—the person who feels trapped, broken, ashamed, forgotten, confused, or afraid to believe that life can ever become better. I want people to understand that their story does not have to end where their pain began.

I want to talk about the things we don’t always feel comfortable discussing: the trauma, the abuse, the relationships, the mistakes, the secrets, the struggles with self-worth, the moments when we lose ourselves trying to survive, the questions we have about God, and most importantly, the journey toward healing.

 

Let’s Talk In The Beginning is a place where we can go back to the beginning—not to remain there, but to understand where we came from, recognize what shaped us, confront what hurt us, and discover a path forward.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. I’m simply someone who has lived through some difficult chapters and discovered that God can meet us in the middle of our brokenness and begin writing something new. My story is still being written.

If sharing my story helps even one person find the courage to leave an unhealthy situation, recognize their worth, seek healing, reconnect with God, or simply believe that tomorrow can be different from yesterday, then every chapter was worth sharing.

This is why I talk. This is why I listen. This is why I share.

 

Because sometimes, healing begins when somebody finally has the courage to say, “Let’s Talk In The Beginning.”

 

And together, we can discover what comes next.