Sharing reflections on healing, motherhood, and spirituality, inspired by my vision for
The Crystal Haven - A place where children can heal and grow.

My earliest memory is that of domestic violence. My body learned tension from watching adults. From the energy in the room — or even the next room over. I paid attention to what couldn’t be seen but could be felt. I somehow knew I needed to stay quiet. It wasn’t something I thought through — I just knew. Maybe it was fear. I’m not sure. I only know that silence felt necessary. It became normal for me to focus on the TV when these violent situations happened. I would lock my a

Once upon a time, accomplishments were things you could put on a résumé. Now they’re more… situational. If everyone eats — success. If no one cries in public — exceptional performance ( this one deserves a medal ). If I drink my coffee while it’s still warm — historic achievement ( still, no crying in public takes the win). Some days, being productive looks like doing laundry and putting it away. Other days, it looks like offering every possible solution you can think of — sn

Lately, I’ve noticed something quiet happening. I still run every scenario through my head—that part of me hasn’t disappeared. But the fear behind it has softened. I’m no longer convinced that the worst-case outcomes are the ones that will play out. For someone who spent most of her life in survival mode—where a lot actually did go wrong—this steadiness feels unfamiliar in the best way. It’s welcome. And it feels like something that’s been a long time coming. Something I neve