I was a bright, curious girl with a heart full of dreams. I lived with my mother and father, who loved me dearly. However, life was often unstable because my father struggled to manage our finances. He had a habit of not paying bills on time, which led to frequent moves from one place to another. At times, we went without electricity or running water.

From a young age, I learned to adapt quickly to new environments. Each time we moved, I made sure to carry my favorite belongings: a large stuffed monkey named Smiley and a well-worn book of ghost stories so they wouldn’t be lost. These items provided me with comfort and a sense of continuity amidst the chaos.

My mother was the one who worked tirelessly to support our family, while Dad did not work most of the time. By the end of her workday, she was often so exhausted that she seemed distant and unable to offer much support. Her fatigue left her with little energy to listen to my stories or provide encouragement.

Despite this, one of my cherished memories was listening to the captivating family stories they would tell. Their tales of sometimes crazy adventures and family history filled my imagination with wonder and excitement.

Making friends was always bittersweet for me. I would form a bond with a new friend, only to move away shortly after. This constant cycle of making and losing friends made me feel lonely, but it also taught me to cherish the moments I had with each person I met.

As I grew older, I started working small jobs to help support our family. However, my father would take my paychecks, which made me feel even more insecure.

After my parents separated, my father decided to move back to California. Since he had just undergone major heart surgery, I went with him to help out. Unfortunately, life continued to get worse. I didn’t have transportation to get around, and even after securing a job, I couldn’t start because I had no way to get there or a way to pay for the uniform. My dad spent most of his time with a woman he had met and was rarely around, often leaving me alone with nothing to eat.

Eventually, he pawned me off to live with his brother so he could be with his girlfriend, whom he later married. Unfortunately, my uncle was just as unreliable as my father, and life with him was equally unstable.

After a short time, I decided to move back to Arkansas. When I returned, my mother was living with my grandmother. Being back with my mother and grandmother provided a sense of familiarity and stability that I had longed for.

Through these and other experiences, I became resilient and resourceful. I learned to rely on myself and found strength in my creativity and resourcefulness. No matter what life threw at me, I always found a way to keep moving forward and hold onto hope.