I’m Not Here to Prove Myself.
I’m Here to Be Myself.

I’m not here to pretend I have it harder than I do.
I’m not here to compare pain, or silence myself because someone else might be hurting more.
I’m not here to make my truth more palatable, or my work more acceptable.

Yes, I am privileged in ways I didn’t earn.
And yes, I’m healing wounds I didn’t deserve.
Both can be true.

I didn’t choose my skin colour, my passport, or my partner’s income.
But I also didn’t choose the spiral that broke me open.
The grief that gutted me.
Or the silent years I spent shrinking myself to survive.

And if you’ve ever looked at someone and thought,
“Must be nice…”
Then I want to tell you, I’ve thought that, too.
And it never helped me heal. It only kept me small.

So here’s what I know now:

I am not lucky.
I am devoted.
Devoted to truth.
To becoming.
To breaking patterns that kept me polite and invisible.
To raising my hand even when it shakes.
To building a life that feels like mine, even if I have to start from scratch, again and again.

This work? It’s not a formula.
I’m not here to dazzle you with case studies and testimonials.
I’m here to tell you: you are not alone in this.

When I say “Fuck it, I’m in,”
I’m not just talking about a program.
I’m talking about the decision to stay with yourself.
To walk your way back.
To say: “This gets to be mine. Even if it’s messy. Even if I’m not there yet.”

If you need numbers and credentials, I may not be your girl.
But if you need someone to stand beside you
when your knees are buckling and your truth is screaming to get out,

I’m right here.