Incarceration is something I never imagined would be part of my story, but it is. From 2015 to 2018, I was in prison and for a long time, I carried shame about it, like it was a label I could never escape. Being locked up strips you of everything your freedom, your dignity, your sense of self. But it also forces you to sit with yourself in a way nothing else does. When everything is taken away, you have no choice but to face who you are and who you've been. What impacted me the most was the time I lost. Three years of my life spent behind walls while the world kept moving without me. I missed out on relationships, opportunities, and the chance to build something meaningful. It stays with you not to punish you, but to remind you of what matters. I knew that when I came home, I couldn't afford to waste another day. But incarceration also taught me things I carry with me every day. It taught me discipline. It taught me patience. It taught me that rock bottom isn't the end it's a turning point if you choose to make it one. I learned that I'm stronger than I ever gave myself credit for, and that I had been wasting my potential by making choices that didn't reflect who I really am. I had time to think about the life I actually wanted and the person I wanted to become. That clarity changed everything. When I came home, I made a promise to myself that I would never go back. Since then, I've become a mother to my daughter Marliannah and my son D'Angelo, and they are my reason for everything. I enrolled in cosmetology school and I'm now working toward my Associate's degree, graduating in June 2027. I'm building my own business, Diamond Drip Body Art a premium teeth gem and tattooing studio. These goals were born out of my lowest moment. Incarceration lit a fire in me that hasn't gone out. I realized I had skills, creativity, and ambition that I had been ignoring for years, and I owed it to myself to do something with it. My experience pushed me to take school seriously in a way I never had before. I don't take this opportunity for granted. Every class, every assignment, every hour of training I show up because I know what it feels like to have nothing. I've seen where the wrong path leads, and I refuse to go back. The truth is, incarceration didn't define me but it did redirect me. It gave me perspective I didn't have before and a hunger to build something real. I want to prove to my kids, to my community, and to myself that your past doesn't own your future. I'm not proud of where I've been, but I'm proud of who I'm becoming. I plan to use every lesson I learned to build a life that reflects growth, purpose, and resilience.

For a long time, I didn't want to admit that addiction had taken control of my life. I told myself I was managing, that I had it under control, that I could stop whenever I wanted. But the truth was, drugs had become my way of coping with pain I didn't know how to face pain from growing up in foster care, from instability, from years of feeling like I wasn't enough. Instead of dealing with it, I numbed it. And in doing that, I almost lost everything that mattered to me. The hardest part wasn't the addiction itself it was seeing how it affected the people I love. My children, my relationships, my goals everything suffered. I was living in survival mode, going through the motions but not truly present. There were moments I didn't recognize the person I had become, and that scared me more than anything. I knew that if I didn't make a change, I was going to lose myself completely. In March 2025, I made the decision to enter an Intensive Outpatient Program. That was one of the hardest and most important choices I've ever made. It wasn't easy facing my trauma, being honest about my mistakes, and learning new ways to cope took everything I had. But it also opened my eyes. I started to understand that my addiction wasn't who I was it was a response to pain I never properly dealt with. Healing meant going to the root, not just the surface. Since then, I've experienced real growth. I enrolled in cosmetology school and I'm working toward my Associate's degree, which I'll complete in June 2027. I'm also building my own business, Diamond Drip Body Art, a premium teeth gem and tattooing studio. These aren't just dreams anymore they're goals I'm actively working toward every single day. For the first time in a long time, I have direction, purpose, and clarity. My plan for moving forward is simple keep going. I stay committed to my recovery, my education, and my growth. I show up for my kids, my daughter Marliannah and my son D'Angelo, because they deserve a mother who is present and fighting for their future. I lean on my faith, which has been my anchor through every storm. And I take it one day at a time, because I've learned that progress isn't about being perfect it's about never giving up. The impact I hope to have goes beyond myself. I want to show other people especially women and parents who are struggling with addiction that it's never too late to change your story. I want to be living proof that where you come from doesn't have to determine where you end up. Through my business, my education, and my life, I want to create something that inspires others to believe they can rebuild, no matter how broken things feel. My addiction was part of my story, but it's not the end of it. I'm still writing, and the best chapters are ahead of me.

Growing up in foster care, I learned very early what it means to feel invisible. I was moved from home to home, never knowing how long I'd stay or if anyone truly cared about what happened to me. That kind of instability stays with you. But instead of letting it break me, it became the foundation for everything I believe in and everything I'm working toward today. My faith is what carried me through. Even in my darkest moments — when I didn't know where I'd sleep or who I could trust I held on to the belief that God had a plan for my life. That faith wasn't something I was handed. I built it through every hard season, every disappointment, and every time I had to start over. It taught me that my circumstances didn't define my worth, and that no matter what I went through, there was purpose behind my pain. That belief is what keeps me grounded today, and it's what pushes me to keep going even when things get hard. Foster care also gave me something I carry in everything I do — empathy. I know what it feels like to be overlooked, to feel like nobody is in your corner, and to wonder if your life even matters. That experience gave me a deep desire to help others who are going through similar struggles. I never want anyone to feel the way I felt as a child. That's why my goals aren't just about personal success they're about creating something that gives back and lifts people up. Right now, I'm working toward my Associate's degree in Cosmetology, which I'll complete in June 2027. I'm also building my own business, Diamond Drip Body Art, a premium teeth gem and tattooing studio. These goals didn't come out of nowhere. They were shaped by my experiences in foster care. I learned to be resourceful, independent, and driven because I had to be. I didn't have anyone handing me opportunities I had to create my own. That mindset is what fuels me as an entrepreneur and as a student. More than anything, my experience in foster care shaped my role as a mother. I have two children my daughter Marliannah and my son D'Angelo and everything I do is for them. I am determined to break the cycle. I want my kids to grow up with the stability, love, and security I never had. I want them to see their mother earn her degree, build a business, and stand on her own two feet, so they know that anything is possible no matter where you come from. Foster care tried to define my story, but my faith rewrote it. I'm not a product of my past I'm proof that with belief, hard work, and the desire to help others, you can turn your pain into purpose. That's exactly what I plan to do.