I was born and raised in the Durham and Raleigh, NC area, respectively, in 1990. My mother was a young wife to an older man. I remember he claimed to believe in God and Christ, loved the Commodore’s ‘Jesus is Love’ song, and would often go on rants about himself and his interpretations of the bible. My mother, while a believer, did not teach me about the bible or about Jesus Christ. My sister though, who is a year younger than me, was able to learn about the bible and Jesus as a child. She was a believer from very young. We all (my three siblings and mother) endured my father’s hatred, paranoia, erratic temper, and abuse. He quit his job one day when I was 6-years-old and he lost the house he had us in. We slept in corn fields in rural North Carolina and he eventually moved us into his brother’s abandoned trailer next to another brother’s house. He refused to work, feed, and educate us. At 12-years-old, I still had not stepped foot into an educational institution. From 1996 to 2002, my mother tried to leave him twice and failed, but the third time, she was successful. My father had us living with barely any food, or access to electricity and a phone. Our bones showed through our skin. One day in 2001, after the 9/11 attacks, my mother and my father ran into her friend in NC while she made a call to her mother to check on her. My father never allowed my mother to go anywhere or speak to anyone without him being present, and she had not seen or spoken to this friend in years. Some time after this encounter, my mother snuck behind his brother’s double-wide trailer and called this same friend. Guess how she called? Through a phone pole outside the man’s house, because she couldn’t get inside. How in the world did she make a call with the wiring in the phone pole? We left my father while he was out of the house on September 10, 2002, fleeing to Massachusetts where I lived for 20 years. I hadn’t spoken to him since. He died in April 2021, and I hated him for the longest time. I was angry. From 2005 to 2024, my sister told me about Jesus and I didn’t believe in Him and dismissed the entire thing as organized Religion. From 2010-2024, when my career and education was taking off (librarianship, award-winning filmmaking, master’s degree), I suffered internally. For a decade, I dealt with astrology and astrocartography, searching for healing and peace. In 2022, I moved away from my family to New Orleans, trying to distance myself, forget, and live a “happy life” because it was “on my venus line”. I dealt with tarot cards and went to psychics for guidance; none of that gave me healing, forgiveness, peace, or joy. In 2024, while at my lowest and living in New Orleans, I cried out to Jesus for help. At that moment, He flooded me with a peace that I had never felt before. I knew He was real. I was convicted in my spirit to leave that city and go back to the east coast months later. A year later, I can say I forgive my earthly father, truly. I forgive myself. I am healing everyday, and I feel more peace and joy than I have ever felt before. Jesus Christ really is the way, the truth, and the life. He is real, and no one can tell me otherwise.