First, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to you—for taking a moment to connect with my story, for choosing to be present here. This journey I’ve walked has been anything but ordinary. It’s been wide and winding, rich with hardship and healing. My hope is that, in sharing it, I may speak to the heart of someone who needs to know that they are not alone… and that even in the darkest of valleys, light is still possible.

This life has tested me, but in those very tests, I was gifted a truth my father always echoed: “Dreams do come true.” So take a breath with me—deep, grounding—and allow me to walk you through the path that brought me here.

I was born in New Jersey on October 20th, 1996. My earliest memories are gentle and scattered, mostly rooted in a house in Maryland where life felt whole—my mom, dad, three older brothers, and my little sister. For a moment in time, it was a childhood like any other. But that moment was cut short. Just three days after my sixth birthday, my mother transitioned from this world due to cancer. Her passing shattered our lives in a way that words still struggle to hold. I don’t have many memories of her, but the ones I carry are filled with warmth, laughter, and love.

Life unraveled quickly after that. My brothers moved on to carve their own paths, and it was just my father, my sister, and me. Though everything around us was crumbling, my father—my anchor—wrapped our days in playfulness and love. He made even the hardest moments feel like home. But eventually, life threw more weight than we could carry, and my sister and I found ourselves in the foster system.

In one single year, we were shuffled through more than eight different homes. If you’ve ever been touched by that system, you know how easy it is to feel invisible. They didn’t want to reunite us with our father. But he never stopped fighting. Even as we bounced from house to house, school to school, he would show up every two weeks for our brief hour together—never empty-handed, always with a gift, always with hope.

We lived in an orphanage for a time, watching other children leave with new families, not knowing that our father wasn’t even told where we were. Still, despite everything, my sister and I stayed together—and that, in itself, is a rare miracle. And eventually, our father brought us home.

From fourth to eighth grade, we found a rhythm again in New Jersey. We attended a Christian school and leaned into the safety of a supportive family friend who helped hold the pieces together. After school, I’d help my dad on construction sites, learning with my hands and heart side by side. For a little while, we had peace.

But life, again, shifted. In eighth grade, we found ourselves without a home, sleeping on couches and trying to stay afloat. My father, determined to shield us from instability, made the painful choice to place us back into foster care until he could rebuild. That stretch lasted through the end of eighth grade and into my freshman year of high school. But even then, he would sneak into the stands to watch my baseball games or take lunch breaks just to sit with me. He showed up in every way he could—quiet, constant, unwavering.

Halfway through freshman year, he brought us back once more. I started my second high school of that year and got a job at 15 to help with rent. Life was far from easy, but we were together.

A sudden move to California brought a fresh start, thanks to that same family friend who never let us fall too far. I finished sophomore year homeschooled, unsure of who I was or what I wanted. Then something inside me stirred—I discovered bodybuilding. I trained relentlessly, fueled by a desire to rewrite the story I had been told about myself. The “fat, ugly kid” faded away with every rep and every sweat-soaked day. At 18, I stepped on stage for my first show and took second place. That moment marked not just a win, but a reclamation.

I earned certifications in personal training and kinesiology, and while they gave me tools, they didn’t spark my soul. What did? Seeing people online living boldly, inspiring others, daring to dream. So, I leapt. I tried YouTube, pursued acting, built a social presence—none of it caught fire. None of it took off. But everything was leading somewhere.

That’s when I met Brittany. She arrived during a season of shedding and becoming. I moved to Arizona to be with her, and then the world stopped—COVID hit.

With the world paused, I found myself on a construction site, back in the labor my father had once warned me against. Long hours, heavy burdens, and a sense that I was slipping backward. My dreams felt faint. But then, grace showed up again—in the form of a book: The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer. Its words cracked something open in me, revealing a deeper truth. I began to wake up.

That’s where the real story begins