My story: The ugly & dark. The beautiful & miraculousness.

Part 1

I used to be lazy and addicted to junk food.

I used to pop vicodin every night.

I used to smoke.

I used to binge eat.

I used to be depressed.

I used to be a liar. A cheater. A thief. Everything.

I hid it from everyone as best as I could.

I used my story, my traumatic childhood, my hardships as an excuse to justify my behavior.

 

Then…

 

I got sick.

 

Life FORCED me to take responsibly for my actions.

 

It wasn’t easy but in time…. I slowlyyyyyyyyy went from being a miserable, depressed, people hating person….to who I am right fucking now – a beautiful, loving, empowering, rockstar of a health coach. I LIVE for teaching health and wellness. I LIVE for showing others how to take control of their health. I LIVE for helping as many people as I can to live awesome.

 

Let’s rewind for a bit, back to where it all began…

I was born in Colombia and abandoned by my father. My mother raised me on her own for the next year and a half. Until she was killed. She was shot. For the next year and half I was bounced around from home to home, no one wanting the responsibility of a child. I have this distant memory of being outside somewhere, naked, and eating grass because I was so hungry.

 

Eventually I ended up at my great, great grandmother’s house. She became my mom. I was so close to her. I loved her so much.

 

Then my father who at this point was living in NY, came back to Colombia for me and ripped me away from the woman I had come to love as a mother, and brought me back to NY to live with him, and his new wife.

 

I don’t know why he did that. He didn’t want me and my stepmother hated me because I was the daughter of another woman. Even if that woman was dead.

 

The combination of being rejected by my own family, losing my mother for the second time, and living in a foreign home caused me to fall into depression. A doctor diagnosed me with depression at age 4. Yes. FOUR. The doctor told my father that if I did not get better soon, I would die from depression.

 

Part 2