Posted on July 14, 2025
I never planned to become a memoirist.
For years, I carried my story like a suitcase I couldn’t put down. It was heavy and unwieldy. It was filled with things I wasn’t sure anyone else would want to see. I faced childhood trauma. I endured religious manipulation. I navigated custody battles and war zones. Slowly, I learned that love doesn’t have to look like captivity.
These felt like private wounds, personal failures, the kind of messy human experiences that polite people don’t discuss over dinner.
But then Luna called.
“Mom, I need to come live with you.”
For fifteen years, I loved her from exile. I built a sanctuary while she lived in someone else’s tower. My daughter finally chose the life we had built over the dysfunction she had inherited. In that moment, I understood why I had survived everything I’d survived. I realized why I had learned to transform pain into purpose. I saw why my story demanded to be told.
Someone needs to know it’s possible.
You can grow up in a story that isn’t your own. You can still write your own ending. That towers fall eventually—not through our force, but through their own contradictions. That the patterns that seem unbreakable can be broken by someone brave enough to refuse the inheritance of trauma.
Songs of Silence: Growing up in a story not my own isn’t just my story. It’s the story of anyone who has recognized the architecture of control. They chose to become a sanctuary architect instead.
This memoir is for:
- The daughters questioning their mothers’ definitions of protection
- The mothers refusing to pass down unhealed wounds
- The military veterans translating combat strength into emotional resilience
- Anyone building something new from the rubble of what came before
I’m writing because transformation is possible. Because patterns can be broken. Because love that creates space for growth is more powerful than love that builds walls for control.
What you’ll find here
On this blog, I’ll share excerpts from my upcoming memoir. I’ll provide insights from my journey from towers to sanctuary. I’ll discuss the daily work of choosing healing over repeating. You’ll get behind-the-scenes glimpses of the writing process. You’ll also have honest conversations about what it takes to become the ancestor your descendants will thank.
The Keeper taught me that stories belong to whoever tells them loudest. But I’ve learned that some stories belong to whoever needs them most.
If you’re building sanctuary instead of towers, this story is for you. If you’re choosing transformation over survival, this story is for you. If you’re brave enough to love without guarantee of return, this story is for you.
Welcome to the conversation.
