For generations, the women in her family had mastered the art of illusion. A malevolent curse, passed down like a poisoned inheritance, bound each mother to the same legacy: seducing men into love, trapping them in marriage, and securing a life of dependency. This cycle of greed, emotional vacancy, and toxic manipulation echoed from one woman to the next, each marriage a carefully constructed trap. As the eldest of a new trio of sisters, she grew up burdened by this twisted heritage.

From the start, she was not seen as a child but as a prop. As a mirror twin, she was a curiosity—an oddity to be displayed rather than nurtured. In her mother’s eyes, she was not a daughter but an extension of her ego—a tool to manipulate, an object to control. Her father, simmering between anger and indifference, only saw her as another reason to lash out. In this household, she learned early on that love was conditional and that speaking up was dangerous. Her mother’s narcissism cut her down like a scalpel, dissecting her sense of self, while her father’s temper hammered home the silence. She was left to navigate a maze of fear and isolation.

Even at just five years old, the weight of responsibility pressed down on her small shoulders. She remembers living in Chula Vista, California, where she and her twin sister wandered the trailer park alone, two little blonde girls navigating a world without supervision. Her parents didn’t care—they saw her as something to manage, not nurture. Wherever she went, her twin was there, not as a companion but as a burden she had to bear.

There was a canal next to the park, and the fence separating them from it was broken. They would slip through the gap and follow the canal, heading straight to McDonald’s like they knew exactly what they were doing—two kids, on their own, traversing a world that seemed indifferent to their existence. Every day, she walked to kindergarten by herself, her twin trailing behind. No one checked on them. At five, she was already in charge, already used to carrying the weight of her sister’s presence. Looking back, she could see how her parents’ indifference shaped her, how their neglect taught her to fend for herself in ways most children never had to.

Yet, even in the middle of this neglect, she felt a quiet sense of protection—something she couldn’t explain then, but that gave her the strength to survive. At that age, she didn’t have the words to describe it, but deep down, she knew she was meant to be here, meant to make it through, even when everything around her suggested otherwise. It took years to understand that feeling, but even at five, she knew something greater was at play.

High on the autism spectrum, though unaware at the time, she found comfort in the predictability of her thoughts, in the patterns she could control. ADHD became her defense—a way to fragment the chaos into pieces small enough to manage. But it wasn’t until she turned 39 that she found the words to describe the storm within her.

Amid the pain and control she endured, she found a spark of defiance. When she came of age, she escaped to the military—a world far removed from her mother’s grasp and her father’s fists. She joined the Air Force, stepping into roles traditionally reserved for men. It was a different kind of battleground, where she confronted the familiar power dynamics she had always known. Men viewed her as an intruder in their world, and respect had to be earned time and again. But she thrived. Unwittingly, she became a beacon for other women, a quiet testament to what could be achieved despite the obstacles.

Still, the shadows of her upbringing clung to her heels. Her career, both in the military and later in corporate security, mirrored the turbulence of her early life—a wave of constant motion and high stakes. It was as if she was riding the crest of the generational curse, all the while searching for a way to break free.

A turning point arrived quietly, like a whisper in her mind. In March 2022, she felt an overwhelming urge to escape—to leave the grind of daily life behind. It was the first time she recognized the pull of her intuition. Without hesitation, she found a secluded treehouse near Mount Rainier and set off on a solitary journey. The towering trees and hushed whispers of nature embraced her in a way she had never known. In that magical place, amidst the rustling leaves and the mountain’s breath, something shifted. The forest gently peeled back the layers of survival, revealing her raw core.

Shortly after, she took another bold step into the realm of magic mushrooms. This experience, like the forest, cracked open her understanding of herself and the world. In that altered state, she saw the patterns that had imprisoned her for generations. For the first time, she glimpsed the possibility of a life unbound by the curse.

This journey—into nature and through psychedelics—ignited a transformation. With newfound awareness of her autism and ADHD, she viewed her life’s story through a different lens. What she had endured wasn’t a weakness or flaw in her character but a testament to her strength. Her destiny wasn’t to repeat the cycle but to shatter it. The wave that had carried her for so long was finally mellowing, settling into a new form.

She realized she wasn’t merely a reflection of the women before her. She was the one who had broken free, who had faced the wave and come out the other side. Her life, once a mirror of chaos, was becoming a testament to resilience and self-discovery. She was ready to share her story—not as a prop in someone else’s narrative, but as the author of her own.