Soldier Mom.

I often reflect on the twists and turns that brought me to this moment. It’s been a wild ride, fueled by determination, fierce ambition, and an unrelenting desire to grow and evolve. This is the story of how every challenge, every triumph, and every setback shaped me into the person I am today—and how I continue to strive for the life I’ve always dreamed of.

I am Kelly and I yell during football. I dance any chance I get, I roll my eyes, I cry a lot, I burp, my knees now crack when I get off the couch, I talk to myself in the mirror, I make mistakes as a mother and somedays I don't want to get out of bed. I love to change my hair, I feel great after the gym, I skip church sometimes, I love a warm cup of tea and I hide chocolate from my daughter. I get angry, I avoid people sometimes, I enjoy being alone, I love to try new food and magnesium mocktails make me happy! Oh, and being outside with the sun kissing my cheeks with bare feet makes me feel alive!

I am raising my daughter on my own and I made a choice to be the medicine for my family. I want to be a vessel of hope for those navigating through motherhood while healing their past lives. My story is for God’s glory and to emphasize how we were created in His divine image, no matter what was done to us. The idea that the energies, decisions, and patterns of our ancestor's ripple into our current lives, has always fascinated me, but the more band aids I started ripping off, the more it infuriated me that the women before me didn't choose to heal the trauma. Instead, it continued to bleed into their offspring until it hit me. I was chosen to stop it, and I know my ancestors who have crossed over to the veil are cheering me to break the chains of this deep-rooted generational curse. It’s like carrying a backpack you didn’t pack, loaded with items you never chose. The level at which I am healing has been defeating, exhausting and lonely. The deeper I go, the more pain is uprooted to the surface and it is so hard to feel all this pain and radically accept what has been done to me. I carry scars everywhere I go and cry tears no one knows about. I wrestled with bitterness and rage for years after accepting the reality I stopped masking. My anger played a purpose, and it kept me alive, but my anger wasn't serving me anymore, it was literally depleting my liver. I decided to grieve my reality, sort through it and learn to embrace my dark parts. I learned how to catch the glimmers of healing that now override the bitter parts that consumed me. It is so freeing; I can look into the mirror daily and smile at who I am now.

Growing up, I was surrounded by cycles of emotional neglect, unhealthy outbursts, and rage that I had no words for. I became a sponge for the projections of others’ fear and anxiety, absorbing them deeply into my being, their pain embedding itself so deep I could hardly distinguish it from my own. The weight of religious shame draped over me like an invisible cloak, heavy and suffocating, stealing the very breath from my lungs. I shut out the trauma of childhood abuse, locking it away in the deepest corners of my mind, only to watch as it slowly poisoned me from the inside out. And through it all, I fought the battle that no one saw—the one against an eating disorder that whispered lies into my ear, the dark thoughts that led to my attempt to leave this world, the broken pieces of intimacy that I couldn’t piece together. The scars of complex PTSD ran deep into my soul.

It often felt like I was drowning in a storm where the rain would never end, unable to outrun the chaos that raged around me. But somehow, buried beneath all the pain, there was a flicker of something—something fierce and unyielding that refused to surrender. I knew, deep down, I had to break free from this relentless cycle, to make sure it didn’t claim me forever.

Healing the wounds of my ancestors, the scars passed down through generations, became a battle I knew I had no choice but to fight. It wasn’t a journey for the weak—it demanded everything I had, all the courage I had left. I had to confront the darkness I’d hidden from for so long—the parts of me I’d desperately tried to bury. I had to challenge the beliefs that had been ingrained into me, beliefs that kept me shackled to my pain, and tear down the walls I’d built to protect myself from the world. The process of self-discovery was messy, uncomfortable, and often unbearable, but it was the only path forward.

I sought therapy that challenged me to dive into the deepest parts of my soul, I embraced spiritual practices that pushed me past my limits that changed the definition of being bold, and I leaned on the strength of those who had weathered their own storms for encouragement. But the most powerful decision I ever made was choosing to heal, choosing to face the "dark night of the soul." And in that choice, I rediscovered myself, I fell in love with myself and finally decided to walk away from people pleasing and set boundaries that protected my heart and energy. No one was taking my peace anymore, no one. Through the heartache, the sorrow, and the tears, I came back to life—not as the person I once was, but as someone reborn, stronger, wiser, and more whole than I ever imagined I could be. Deuteronomy 30:3-13: "God, your God, will restore everything you lost; he'll have compassion on you; he'll come back and pick up the pieces from all the places where you were scattered."

Changing the legacy means more than just healing my own wounds; it’s about instilling new values and patterns in my daughter’s life, transforming the very foundation on which my daughter will build her life. It’s teaching her that boundaries are a form of self-love and that her voice is a tool of empowerment. It’s showing her that love does not equate to suffering, that strength lies in kindness, and that her worth is inherent, not earned. It's about being bold, but humble with your healing to become unrecognizable in front of what tried to destroy you. To have the spiritual stamina that makes you untouchable partnered with the mental strength that doesn't allow any distractions to keep you stagnant and away from your God-given purpose. Joel 2:25: “I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you.”

Breaking cycles means building new ones—cycles of love, respect, emotional intelligence and spiritual stamina. Every step, lesson, and breakthrough is a stone laid on the path to a brighter, lighter future for my daughter. I wear this divine assignment with humility and gratitude, committed to being the vessel of hope for the future.

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Love and Light,

Soldier Mom