Welcome to Words of Wisdom!
Sorry I’ve been gone for a few days. I had to get the hell out of dodge for a while to be in nature, walk in silence, get grounded, and recharge my energy and damn did that feel good.
Thank you for being here and for your loyalty, your love, and your energy. 

Uncovering the Hurt I Didn’t Know I Had
Today, I’m starting something big. Something I’ve never fully shared before. Not all of it at once but in separate podcasts. I want to share this because I know, without a doubt, that someone listening is going to resonate with this and is carrying shit they don’t even realize is weighing them down. And if my story can help you heal, even a little bit… then it’s worth sharing every uncomfortable detail.
This episode is about my childhood, what I didn’t know I needed to heal, and the baggage I carried for decades without even realizing it.
I had no fucking clue I was holding on to anything from my past until four years ago when someone pointed it out. I was telling him about the kinds of relationships I’d been in, all the shit I tolerated, and he just looked at me and said, “Yeah… I think you have daddy issues.”
Well shit. That hit me like a brick.
See, in my religion, once you’re married, that’s it. It’s forever no matter what. Thick and thin. Even when “thick and thin” really means “miserable and abandoned.” 
By the time I was a teenager, I got fed up and called a family meeting with my mother and all siblings to convince her into divorcing my father. He wasn’t even a father. He was a ghost who showed up once every few years, stayed for a few days, and vanished again.
We were raised without a dad. No father figure, no support, no presence. And father’s matter. They shape who you become, how you see yourself, what you tolerate. They teach responsibility, love, resilience, empathy—all the shit a kid needs to grow up steady and secure.
But mine? None of that.
My mom raised five kids on her own. We worked young—hell, I was working at eleven. We didn’t have bikes, never stepped into a mall, TVs, nothing. My mom sewed our clothes. I lived in hand-me-downs with gratitude, because at least I was warm and covered.
But here’s the thing: not having a father affects who you date later in life, whether you know it or not. And I sure as hell didn’t know it. I thought not having a dad was simply… normal. I didn’t realize I had shoved all that pain so deep inside I forgot it existed.
Until four years ago, in my late 50s, when I heard the words “daddy issues” from someone I trust.
And then came the part I never saw coming… healing. I never got to say goodbye to my dad before he died. Never had the chance to tell him I loved him. 
So, I booked a flight to where he was buried. I thought nothing would come out of me—I felt nothing for a man who was never around.
But when I sat there, staring at his gravestone, it came out of me like a volcano erupting:
“Fuck you, dad.
Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”
How could you do this to us and to mom?
Where is your heart?
“I’m done dating men like you. Emotionally unavailable. One foot in, one foot out. This shit stops with me.”

I didn’t plan it. It just exploded. Years of anger I didn’t know. It came pouring out like vomit—rage, disappointment, hurt, questions he would never answer. I shocked the shit out of myself. 
But understand it wasn’t just him—it was his upbringing, his wounds, his parents. Generational bullshit passed down. 
And once the anger was gone… the tears and clarity came. Deep, soul-cleansing tears. And then — something shifted. I softened and said:
It’s ok dad, you didn’t know any better because no one taught you any better.
I forgive you.
I want you to rest in peace.
Thank you for being my angel now.”
Healing childhood wounds is messy. It’s painful. It’s uncomfortable as fuck. But it is freedom.
If you’re carrying something from your childhood — and most of us are — you must face it.
Not for them. For YOU.
Whether you go to the grave, or you light a candle at home, talk to that person. Get the shit out. All of it. Yell, cry, and say everything you were too afraid or too young to say. And when you’re done, end it with: “I forgive you.” AND MEAN IT!
Forgiveness isn’t approval. It’s release. Forgive them, so YOU can breathe again.
That trip changed me. It changed how I saw men. It changed what I will now accept and not accept. My boundaries shot right up.
Healing childhood wounds frees you in ways you don’t even realize you’re trapped. Two years ago, standing at that grave, I had no idea the weight I was carrying. No idea how much anger I had buried. No idea how suffocating it had been. I felt like I could finally breathe.
I’ve spent years breaking patterns, breaking cycles, breaking generational curses that should’ve been smashed decades ago. It’s exhausting. It takes guts. It takes strength. It takes honesty and it takes ripping your own heart open and stitching it back together.
Growing up without a dad shaped my entire life. It shaped my relationships. It shaped what I tolerated. It shaped the generational curses I’ve spent years fucking breaking.
My mom was the soft place to land. The nurturing one. She’s gone now—so are the rest of them. I have an army of angels watching over me. I’d give anything for one more minute with them, but I’m grateful for every piece of love they gave me.
If you have childhood wounds—deal with them. Don’t shove them down. Don’t pretend they’re gone. They will haunt your relationships, your decisions, your self-worth. Heal them so you can finally feel free.
And if you can’t visit the person you need to talk to—light a candle. Sit alone. Pour your truth out loud. And at the end, say the words that set you free:
“I forgive you.”
And mean it!
And remember magic happens when you move, when you create, when you love, and when you honor yourself. Keep shining. Your light is a gift to this world, and it’s only going to grow brighter from here.
Thank you all so much for spending this time together today. If this message resonated with you, if you felt it in your spirit, please like, share, and subscribe. 
Comment below—I would love to hear how you are stepping into your power, your love, and your flow.
This is just the beginning of my story. Next episode, I’m going into my first relationship—and trust me, there are lessons in that one, too especially because I still hadn’t healed my daddy issues at that point.
I love you all. 
God Bless.