I never asked to become an expert in surviving storms, but life made sure I learned early. At just seven years old, I was left at my grandparents’ house with everything I owned, abandoned without answers, forced to grow up before I had a chance to breathe. From that moment on, chaos replaced comfort. I learned to hold my breath through moments that should have held me. I carried the weight of my parents’ battles, the loneliness in every move, and the silence that grew louder with every broken promise. Healing didn’t begin the day the pain stopped—it began the day I stopped hiding it. The day I realized my voice could be a lifeline, not just for me but for anyone who has ever felt unseen, unheard, or forgotten. This space is my offering. A tender place where trauma can be spoken without shame and where every scar becomes proof that survival is an art. Here, we heal together. Here, you are never alone.