I took my first breath, in this world, a survivor. We find survivors everywhere now; it’s more common to be able to relate.

I narrowly escaped an attempt on my life, roughly 28 weeks prior to my first breath, when my mother tried to erase her second pink line. No such luck. The universe had a plan.

I wound up in the system a few years later.

That time is a blur for me; a storm I could spend a lifetime unraveling. I never knew how badly that time of my life failed me until I was full- swing in to my adulthood, trying to raise kids of my own. That led to its own series of catastrophes.

What this blog is about is a safe place for me to process, not only for myself, but for anyone else in need of a Rae of grace in their day.

As a Trauma Support volunteer, I believe it’s necessary to not only be grounded in our identity as a survivor, but be able to learn how to transition into the phase of thriving.

This is a difficult concept for many people, from many approaches, which I spend my days processing, as I play with food.

When I figure things out and wish to share, I place my thoughts here.