I grew up in a home marked by divorce, brokenness, and constant conflict. By the time I was eight, my parents had separated, and my siblings and I were split between them. My brother and I lived with my father, but it was my grandmother who raised me — a strict, guarded woman who believed that nothing was ever done right unless she did it herself. Life felt rigid, lonely, and lacking joy. I learned early on to be strong, self-sufficient, and quiet about my pain.
At eighteen, desperate for freedom, I rushed into a marriage with an atheist man, hoping things would be different. Instead, the relationship was filled with arguments and heavy drinking. After three years, we divorced, and I became a single mother to my young son. Money was tight, life was heavy, but by the grace of God I always found a way — even managing to put him in private school.
