Rebecca

Justin, Texas

In my childhood home, arguments were basically my bedtime stories — some kids had lullabies, I had nightly arguing matches echoing down the hallway. Humor is how I cope, so yes, I say that jokingly… mostly. My dad was (and still is) a cross dresser back in the 90s, which was a much more delicate time for that kind of lifestyle. Between that and the chaos at home, “I love you” was something I was expected to say long before I actually understood what love was supposed to feel like. Add in the usual millennial starter pack — financial stress, figuring out adulthood on the fly, and learning life the hard way — and somewhere along the road I got love-bombed into marrying a narcissist. That chapter wrapped up with a divorce before we even made it to year three. Turns out some lessons come with paperwork. It took me 35 years — and moving about 1,000 miles away — to learn what a peaceful life actually feels like. And one of the most important things I’ve learned is that it’s okay to leave behind toxicity if it makes you a better, healthier person. Sure, life has had some dark moments. But I also have a cat who already hates the world and would absolutely not survive without me, and a Velcro dog I lovingly call my walking suppository because she’s never more than two inches behind me. They simply don’t stand a chance if I check out early. Humor really is powerful medicine. But so is sharing your story. A lot of people carry shame or embarassment because they think they’re alone. The truth is, many of us have lived through similar chaos — and we’re still here, still growing, and still capable of building a life that actually feels good.