I call myself a suicide survivor. Twelve years ago, I woke up one morning knowing I was going to end my life.
I had lived through a decade of relentless pain—childhood abuse, constant stress, self-hate, encounters with CPS, and domestic violence. I was exhausted. Drained. Every part of me had given up, and I had completely lost all will to live.
The next morning, I woke up shocked that my attempt hadn’t worked. And in that moment, I made a decision: if I was going to live, I was going to truly live. I was going to change my life, change my world, make different choices, have fun, and find joy again.
I prayed every single day for God to give me strength. And He did.
Two months later, with hands shaking and heart racing, I said yes to a small get-together. That simple “yes” changed the trajectory of everything.
I met someone—someone unlike anyone I had ever known. We fell in love hard and fast. He was kind, genuine, hilarious, hardworking, and respectful. A year after meeting him, we were married. Johnny and I have now been married for almost ten years, and together we have three incredible kids.
The greatest gift Johnny has given me is safety. Growing up in a tumultuous home, safety is all you crave. In a house where everything could go from zero to sixty in minutes, where a family dinner could turn into police sirens showing up at the door, being on constant alert was normal. When we got married, I didn’t even know how to relax my body or communicate without shutting down for days. Showing emotion, being vulnerable, even trusting someone—these were enormous challenges.
It took about four to five years for me to fully believe that Johnny would never hurt me. Sometimes, when he gestured while making a point, I would flinch. Slowly, patiently, he earned my trust. We read books together, attended marriage conferences, leaned on friends, and set firm boundaries with toxic people. The roots of childhood trauma go deep, but we refuse to give up on each other or settle for a mediocre marriage.
I’ve learned that love adds value. If it doesn’t, it isn’t love.
Our kids will never know what it’s like to be told they are unlovable or worthless. They will never live with debilitating nightmares of parental harm. And that is a legacy I can give them—the opposite of what I endured. You can change your future. The choices you make today can reverberate for decades to come.
For years, I couldn’t share my story. The shame was crushing. Only my husband and my best friend knew about my suicide attempt. Over the past decade, I’ve struggled with depression, anxiety, and postpartum depression. I’ve walked through dark seasons and fought for my own life, constantly battling the lies of my past. I’ve taken steps forward and backward, but I always fight to regain ground—and to go further. I refuse to settle. I want to thrive.
If I could go back twelve years, to that room, I would wrap my arms around my broken self and whisper: “There is so much ahead for you. So much love your heart won’t even be able to contain.”
Now, I have found my voice, and I speak for those who cannot put words to the pain they carry. Childhood abuse is horrific. It teaches you that you are worthless, incapable of love, and of no value. These lies sink deep into your soul. But healing is possible. Your worth is intrinsic—it is not earned and it never fades.
You can fight for your life. Love is big enough, and it does not skip over you, even if it feels like you’re the only one unhealable. Start by deciding to do something different. Take small steps forward, even if your heart races and your hands shake—because that’s how you change your life. That’s how you change the world.
I pray that there is so much love ahead for you that your heart simply cannot contain it.
