About Holy Habits

I struggle with addiction, control, sexual integrity, anger, and codependency, to name a few things. I was abandoned by my mother when I was just two years old. I didn't grow up knowing love in a way that nurtured me; I was managed. My father struggled with his own hurts and habits — narcissism, bipolar disorder, and chemical dependency — and I was raised in a strict, controlling environment where I had no voice, no choices, and no freedom to just be a child.

My grandmother, who was blind and in declining health, became my responsibility, and I learned how to be her caretaker at a young age. That experience shaped so much of who I became. Being needed gave me something I felt proud of, but inside, I started to lose the part of me that just wanted to play, to laugh, to be a girl. I grew up way too fast. When I began to crave independence and my own choices, I was shut down every time, and that continued rejection planted seeds of rebellion inside me.

My grandmother was the first to introduce me to God. Still, I never felt like I belonged — not at church, not among my peers, not even in my own home. As a teenager I suffered from extreme depression and went through the darkest season of my life, trying to escape a life that felt like bondage. After being placed into the foster care system, it wasn't the darkest season, but it was the loneliest one. I still felt invisible, unloved, without guidance or support. When I graduated high school, I walked the stage alone, with no family and no friends in the audience — the saddest day of my life.

After aging out of the system, I started searching to find myself. I got into college, attended culinary school, and lived in transitional housing for former foster youth in college, where I made some of my best friends and, for the first time, felt real happiness. Watching my friends rekindle relationships with their families stirred a desire in me for the same. I decided to reconnect with my father, whom I hadn't seen since I was fifteen. He invited me to move back in with him, and with hope and excitement, I did. He even threw me a twenty-first birthday party, since I'd never had a sweet sixteen, and for a moment I thought we had finally become a real family.

Not long after, everything crumbled. I discovered that my best friend and my father had been sneaking around behind my back for months. My heart shattered. Trying to escape the betrayal, I moved to Las Vegas, chasing success and a new life, but the pain followed me. I turned to cocaine and methamphetamines to cope. In the nine months I was there, I faced tragedy after tragedy, and God saved me every single time. I remember hearing His voice for the first time in years, saying, "I can't answer prayers you're not praying." So I began to pray, and every time I cried out, He answered. He carried me through betrayal, homelessness, unsafe living situations, and dangerous circumstances. His grace met me in the chaos.

When I moved back to California, my foster dad opened his home to me at twenty-three, which was a blessing. During that season I met someone online, the first man who made me feel seen and wanted. I believed he was another answered prayer, but the relationship became toxic and manipulative over time, and I began living for him instead of for myself, or for God. My struggles with control and sexual integrity deepened as I compromised myself to keep his love. Eventually, I let go of God's hand again and walked back into darkness willingly, choosing to numb my pain instead of heal it. But even then, God never let go of me.

After six years of spiraling, God led me to San Antonio. It didn't make sense, but I came, broken and desperate for change. That's when God truly began to rebuild my life. I gave my life to Christ, was baptized, and found a church home at CBC. When I became a member, I received a Bible, and I vowed to read it cover to cover. I noticed it had been printed in Riverside, California — the city where I was born — and joy filled my heart. I knew, in that moment, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The church offered a program called Celebrate Recovery, and while still struggling with addiction, I got involved. I began to understand that healing isn't about pretending the past didn't happen; it's about letting God use it for good. I started to see that every moment, every pain, every near miss was covered by His grace. He was always there, even when I wasn't looking for Him.

Today, I'm still healing, but I'm walking in purpose. By the grace of God, I've launched Holy Habits, a faith-based sober nightlife lounge that gives people a place to connect, feel safe, and find joy without substances. Our ministry, Kindred Spirits Collective, offers life skills and cooking lessons to foster youth and young adults, because I know what it's like to age out with nothing but hope and hunger. I'm no longer managed — I'm led, by the Spirit of God. I'm no longer living in rebellion — I'm living in redemption. I am no longer waiting for someone to rescue me. Jesus already did. And by His grace, I'm just getting started.