I was raised in an extremely sheltered church environment in South Florida. Officially, it was a “Fundamental Baptist” upbringing, but to me, “cult” often feels more accurate. Britney Spears was considered a devilish influence, wearing thong underwear was a sin, dancing or wearing sleeveless shirts could attract dangerous attention, and God forbid glitter eyeshadow or a skirt that grazed above the knee. Preachers called our house if my family missed Sunday service, and the ultimate goal for young women like me was to become a missionary or a preacher’s wife.
Public schools were labeled “secular,” any music outside of gospel was sinful, and holding hands with a boy was taboo—enough to make the congregation assume worse behind closed doors. I didn’t own jeans until ninth grade, and culottes—unflattering, awkward, hideous culottes—were my substitute for shorts. One-piece swimsuits were the only acceptable option for the pool or beach. Every thought, action, or whim was a “sin,” and if anyone was caught, gossip would spread like wildfire. I remember praying constantly for forgiveness, always feeling like I was falling short. I attended my church’s Christian school with only 100 students from kindergarten to twelfth grade, going through Bible lessons Monday through Friday, Wednesday night youth group, and Sunday morning and evening services. My mom worked at the church, and my dad led the bus ministry. Church wasn’t just a part of our life—it was our life. My family was drowning in the “holy blood of the Lamb.”
This was my world for so long. Sometimes I despised it, yet I didn’t know any other life. As an adult, I appreciate the moral foundation and love for God it instilled in me, but living in that bubble for half my life felt like existing on another planet. In 2004, everything shifted when my parents made the difficult decision to leave the church. Two years later, seeking a fresh start, we moved to Georgia.
I walked into Newnan High School as a terrified junior, having never attended public school past first grade and knowing no one. The transition was jarring; it forced me to grow up faster than I ever imagined. Part of me mourned my old life because the new world was unfamiliar and overwhelming. Around this time, I met a boy—let’s call him Sam.
He was the quintessential “bad boy”: skipping school, eventually dropping out, stealing, lying, verbally abusive, and unfaithful countless times. Yet, I fell hard for him, believing he was “the one.” Having never had a boyfriend, I was swept away by the feelings he stirred in me. I lost my virginity to him, a huge leap for a girl who had been taught to wait until marriage. I lied to my parents, claiming sleepovers with girlfriends while spending nights with him. Sam never had a permanent home and would crash wherever he could. I tried breaking up countless times, but his rebellious allure kept pulling me back. For six years, I rode that unpredictable rollercoaster, knowing deep down it wasn’t healthy.
By college, I gained significant weight—50 pounds over two years—and convinced myself no one else could ever love me. I believed I was unworthy, my self-esteem buried under the scale’s numbers. Around 21, I joined my first MLM (multi-level marketing) business. Terrified at first, I hosted in-home parties educating women on sexual health, an ironic choice given my conservative upbringing, yet I found it empowering. That same year, a motivational conference sparked a fire in me. I began setting goals, reading personal development books, building confidence, and losing weight.
A year later, I discovered I was pregnant by Sam at 21. Living with my parents, with a partner who had no job or home, I was initially devastated. Gradually, excitement crept in—I would become a mom. But at eight weeks, I had a miscarriage, leaving me feeling hollow and broken. I channeled my pain into ambition, working tirelessly to prepare for a future I hoped would include Sam. But when I caught him talking to another woman—again—I finally found the courage to leave him for good, empowered by the strength I’d gained from motivational conferences. The regret of staying so long haunted me, but I was done sacrificing my life for someone else.
I threw myself into work and my side hustle. I built a team, booked weekend parties, and obsessed over personal development. Books like How to Win Friends and Influence People and Eat That Frog transformed my mindset. I saved money, gained independence, and felt unstoppable.
At 23, I met Alex, the complete opposite of Sam. Within months, I was pregnant, but this time, I was prepared. I bought a home, we co-parented Ryleigh, and although our relationship eventually became friendship, I focused on building a stable, loving environment for her. At 24, as a single mom, I sought companionship, leading to a blind date with Larry. We waited months before becoming intimate, ensuring emotions guided our connection, not impulsivity. Slowly, I reduced social drinking, stepped back from hustling parties, and concentrated on my family.
After six years in my first MLM, I walked away, dedicating myself to my full-time job, daughter, and Larry. We eloped to Hawaii, and in 2016 welcomed our son Mackson. I later joined a second MLM selling hair care products via Facebook Live, quickly building a team, earning rewards, and experiencing success again. But the hustle consumed me. Daily pressure, constant notifications, and relentless pursuit of growth led to anxiety, depression, and emotional exhaustion. I was losing grip on life, my family, and myself.
By 28, I realized I had strayed from God, relying only on myself. I returned to church, prayed, and sought His guidance. Separating from toxic business influences, I regained balance and pride in who I had become. In 2019, sharing my experience with CBD to manage anxiety led to being unfairly terminated from my MLM, losing two years of work and nearly 2,000 clients. It was devastating—but it also revealed how much I had tied my identity to external validation.
MLM initially awakened me, showing me my strength and potential. But ultimately, it taught me that success and money are meaningless if they cost your sense of self. My journey is long, winding, and full of lessons: fulfillment isn’t about relationships, babies, business, or appearance—it’s about shedding what isn’t you to embrace who you were always meant to be.
Today, I share my story to inspire others. I focus on my family, grow my dad’s business, trust God’s plan, and pursue happiness on my terms. I hope it encourages anyone reading to embrace their journey, honor their intuition, and realize that everything they need to thrive is already inside them.
