"In New Mexico, the air wasn't safe. In Tennessee, my gut was in a state of battle. I used to think my body was failing me, but now I see the design. We’re talking about epigenetic tags, the vagus nerve, and the Ruach—the breath of God that sustains us even when our lungs want to fail. This is the biology of survival."

My diagnosis of PTSD became my caretaker’s greatest shield, used to dismiss my reports of pain as mere "flashbacks" while I performed as a "perfect" Honor Roll student to survive. From a 2007 report of a large bruise on my side to a 2013 hospital meeting where a suicide attempt was met with only "10 minutes" of a caretaker’s time, these records document a pattern of abuse and clinical indifference.

At fourteen, I was a gifted student, a flute player, and—according to my Tennessee records—a thief. For years, I let that label define my cracks. But I’m learning that God doesn't use clear glue to fix us; He uses gold. Discover how the ancient art of Kintsugi and the truth of Psalm 139 are rewriting my story from 'broken' to 'beloved.

One act of defiance snowballed into a habit I couldn't explain. While the adults around me lectured on "trust" and "choices," I was navigating a world of fear. I remember the cold silence of the courtroom and the desperate promise I made to the judge to "fully participate"—not because I understood the gravity of the law, but because I was terrified of being defined by my mistakes.

Our body really holds the trauma we face even at a cellular level!