I’ve wanted to be a nurse for over 18 years.
But life had other plans. Plans that involved self doubt, fear, and years of not believing I was capable. I wasn’t diagnosed with dyslexia until I was in my early 30s. Before that, I just thought I wasn’t smart enough. I carried that belief through childhood, into my teens, and well into adulthood. It affected everything, especially how I saw myself.
But underneath the doubt, there’s always been something stronger. A quiet fire. I’ve always had ambition. A drive to succeed. And I’ve always been a dreamer. Big, bold, wild dreams. Even when things were hard, I never stopped hoping that life could look different one day. That something better was possible. I still dream. All the time. And I still believe.
I’ve set up businesses. I’ve worked hard.
And if I’m honest, part of that comes from wanting to prove myself, especially to the people who hurt me. I wanted them to see that I made it. That I’m more than what they tried to break. But these days, I’m learning to let go of that weight. I don’t need to prove anything anymore. I’m finding myself after trauma, learning that peace matters more than proving a point. I’m building a life that feels good to me, and that’s enough.
The biggest part of my life, and the one I cherish most, is motherhood.
I love being a mum. My children are everything. They’ve seen me at my lowest, and they’ve loved me through it. They’ve stood by me during my breakdowns, cheered me on when I doubted myself, and reminded me of my worth when I couldn’t see it. They are my greatest gift. I can’t imagine life without them.
If I could have it my way, I’d be the mum who’s always home.
I’d cook dinner with music playing in the background, keep the house filled with laughter, and build something meaningful on the side just enough to stay independent. Because I’ve always had that part in me too. The part that never wanted to rely on anyone. The part that worked hard even when I was tired. The part that refused to give up.
I’m a survivor in every way.
I carry physical scars and emotional ones too. But I’ve stopped hiding them. They’ve shaped me. And I’ve learned how to live with them, not with shame but with grace. Finding myself after trauma has taught me that healing doesn’t erase the pain. It transforms it.
And through it all, I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.
I’ve loved deeply. Given my heart fully. Even when it hurt. Even when it left me broken. There’s something in me that refuses to let go of the idea that real love exists. I still believe that one day I’ll meet the man who is for me. Someone who understands the journey I’ve walked. Someone who doesn’t try to save me but stands beside me while I continue saving myself.
I’m turning 40 in 2026. And honestly, I’m looking forward to it.
I’m entering a new chapter. One where I’m no longer trying to be perfect or please anyone else. I’m finding myself after trauma, learning to love who I am becoming, and embracing every scar that tells my story. This journey of self love, healing, and rediscovery is the most important one I’ve ever walked.
This is me.
Still scared.
Still hopeful.
Still becoming.
Still finding myself after trauma.
