I’ve always believed in doing life the “right” way. Whether rooted in perfectionism or a desire for stability, I gravitated toward structure, order, and staying out of trouble. When classmates began experimenting with risky behaviors in middle school, I chose a different path, finding belonging in music, academics, sports, and activities that felt aligned with who I was becoming. After high school, I faced a familiar uncertainty: What am I meant to do? Who am I supposed to be?

Writing and fighting for the underdog had always been a passion, but turning it into a career felt unrealistic. Like many others navigating early adulthood, I chose the path that felt responsible and secure. I entered the medical field and followed the expected milestones – college, career, marriage, and motherhood. I was doing everything “by the book,” in the order it was supposed to happen.

For a time, that structure felt reassuring. But life does not always honor the plans we make. My marriage ended, and on November 17, 2018, my life changed in ways I never could have anticipated. At that point, I had been separated for about a year, working full-time as a nurse at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, raising my three-year-old son, and building a life independently.

I believed I was doing well. I believed I was safe.
I was wrong.

My life is now defined by two distinct chapters: before November 2018 and after November 2018. What followed were some of the most difficult years I never chose. Years marked by profound loss, including relationships, stability, safety, and a sense of self. Yet within that loss, there was growth. I learned, adapted, and became stronger than I ever believed possible.

When the man who assaulted me tried to bury me, he did not realize that I am a seed. Advocacy, writing, and standing up for others has always mattered deeply to me. But it was through lived experience that those passions gained clarity and purpose. Since November 2018, I have rediscovered myself and rebuilt a life filled with meaning, color, and intention. While healing is not linear, and moments of difficulty still exist, I’ve found that channeling pain into advocacy and community education has been both grounding and transformative.

Thank you for taking the time to be here. Whether you are considering working together, attending a presentation, or reading my books, I am grateful for your presence. I stand with survivors.