Forged By Fire

I. Who I Am

I was born in a small town in South Texas, delivered by a midwife. I'm a Hispanic female. We lived on the south side of Dallas, which wasn't the best of neighborhoods, but it was home. Life was normal for me as a young kid — I still remember my kindergarten teacher, Miss Phillips, who helped me learn to tie my shoes. I was a straight-A student, book smart, loved reading, and stayed out of trouble. We grew up in a Pentecostal home, so we lived by the scripture. My father was a deacon at the church, so there was some status we held. Church was our life. Childhood was very controlled and structured in a way that you could not deviate, or else. I was daddy's girl and always wanted to be close to him. After my parents split, I begged my mother to let me live with him. My world was happy again — but what happened behind closed doors, away from the public eye, would soon turn my world upside down.

II. What Happened

I was very young the first time it happened; I was around 6 or 7. I would sleep in my father's room; it was just the two of us. That night, he guided me to touch him, and afterward he asked that we both pray and ask for forgiveness. From then on, everything changed. Over the years it continued. He always told me to keep it a secret and that I couldn't tell anyone. Who would believe me? He was a deacon of the church, held in high regard. I became isolated; I felt lonely, and I wanted out of the home. I was in 6th grade, 11 years old, when I finally told a teacher everything happening in my household and what my father had done. It was a sigh of relief when I finally confided in someone. A social worker came, and I did not go home that day. I later learned he was found guilty and was eventually deported. Speaking up was an act of courage.

III. What My Life Became

After I spoke up, my family blamed me for outing my father and our dirty secrets. My stepmother accused me of lying. The church turned its back on me; rumors spread fast, and I became an outcast. I felt lonelier than ever — worthless, guilty, and shameful. It didn't take long for me to become careless. My rebellious side erupted. I started skipping school, drinking, shoplifting, sneaking out at night, running with the wrong crowds. I was pregnant at 12; my mother would not let me keep the baby. I felt unwanted; nobody wanted me, and my thoughts drained me. There were nights I did not want to wake up. The sadness was intense, and I came close to ending my life more than once. Life continued, and I built emotional walls — angry, determined that no one would tell me what to do, hurt, or touch me again. People would describe me as a tough cookie: cold, direct, bold. It was the wall of defense I built around me.

IV. What Changed

My real healing began in my early 30s. Why so long? Growing up, you didn't talk about your problems; you knew to “suck it up, buttercup.” Eventually I sought professional counseling. I showed up saying I had nothing specific to talk about — and next thing I knew, I was crying and talking about all my past and trauma. She introduced me to EMDR, and it became one of the best things I have done in my journey to healing. Things took a turn when I decided to forgive my parents. I was sitting in church one Sunday when the pastor said it didn't matter what had happened to me in the past — and I started crying. I forgave them at that moment and let go of the hatred and resentment I had carried. I learned to love myself, to set boundaries, and to surround myself with people who would uplift me. Later, I found The Empowering Story through another survivor. The one-on-one sessions with Jean helped me revisit my story and gave me the confidence to tell it. Writing this book became more than a testimony — it became a reclamation.

V. Who I Am Now

I've transformed from someone with low self-esteem, self-hate, and emotional walls into a person who is confident, determined, and resilient — still on a journey of growth. I'm a writer, a Certified Life Coach, and a healthcare professional based in Dallas. I'm a single mother to a thriving young man, engaged to be married, and I've traveled to over 15 countries and counting. As a life coach, I'm seeking speaking opportunities to be a “Voice of Hope” for others — especially women who have suffered trauma. I didn't have that as a kid, and my intent is to be that for someone else. I was only 12 when I chose to speak up. Although I wrestled with guilt and self-blame, I've come to understand that it was NOT my fault. I have no regrets about breaking my silence, and neither should you. Healing is a journey that requires patience — it doesn't happen overnight, but with time, it truly gets better. You are worth it, you are loved, and you can overcome any life curveballs. The journey is worth every step, and so are you.