At eleven years old, I stood under an altar in a white lace dress, received a ring, and pledged myself to a promise I didn’t fully understand.

This is the story of how a single question from a friend shattered my perception, how a comment in a car made me question everything, and how I slowly unraveled the fear, control, and shame that had been woven into my understanding of myself.

Trigger Warning: This episode discusses themes of religious influence, purity culture, and the impact of shame-based teachings around sexuality. Listener discretion is advised.

It’s hard to release control when you’ve learned that survival means standing on your own. But what happens when someone steps in, ready to hold you, protect you, and take care of you? This is the story of falling in love, leaning in, pulling back, and learning—after 14 years—to finally let go.

It wasn’t just a memory—it was a dream. Or maybe something else entirely. Floating on a cloud, caught between two worlds, I had to make a choice. It wasn’t the first time I felt the weight of deciding, but it’s the earliest I can remember. Some feelings stay with you, even when the moment fades.

A faint line on a test can change everything—your plans, your hopes, your whole world. But what happens when that line disappears just as quickly as it appeared? This is the story of a decision, a fleeting moment of joy, and the quiet grief that followed.

It was supposed to be a fun night out—dancing, new friends, and the carefree freedom of being 21 in Florence. But a split-second decision changed everything. Alone on dark, empty streets, with no phone, no language, and no idea how to get back, I had to rely on strangers and a little faith to find my way. Some nights stay with you forever.

Sometimes, the people you think you know best reveal sides of themselves you never imagined. This is the story of one night, static at full volume, and a sister I thought I knew—until I didn’t. What do you do when the distance between you and someone you love feels like a chasm?

I was eight years old, and I wanted to ride the rides. But that morning wasn’t about me—it was about her. This memory lingers, not because it was the first time, but because it wasn’t the last. A fragmented moment of chaos, silence, and survival.

"Andrew was killed.” That message changed everything. A quiet day turned to chaos, a friend lost, and an empty seat that stayed empty. This is the story of grief, childhood, and the day I stopped being a kid. Sometimes, tragedy is the beginning of understanding the world’s dark corners.