I climbed up thirty feet into the shop rafters with chains around my neck and a bottle in my hand, ready to end it. I had been running  from my consequences for so long, convinced the only way out was death. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I drank to give myself the courage to end it all. Then, the bottle slipped. 

I watched it fall all the way down.

Instead of smashing, it landed upright in a bucket. I stared at the bottle in disbelief.

Then I began to question, “Was Spirit messing with me?” I untied my physical chains, stood upright, for just a moment, and began climbing down. This was just a distraction. I’d save it for later. Was I hiding behind a mask? I felt nothing. And I didn’t want to feel anything ever again. Still, was this moment Divine Intervention? Not long after that, I got pulled over. And instead of anger or fear, I felt a sense of relief, thankful to be alive. That was the moment I surrendered. I decided if I didn’t want to die, I had to change. 

Prison brought its own challenges. I came in with a street mentality—don’t snitch, don’t back down, always stay hard. But early on, I chose something different for myself. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to live. So I kept my kids in mind, kept my spirit in check, and leaned into the art program.

Theater pulled me out of my shell. I sang my own songs in front of people and, for the first time, felt proud of myself. It was goofy, scary, but healing. I surprised myself  –like the first time I performed in a play, or the time I held a plank for ten minutes and four  seconds. Sounds small, but it proved I was stronger than I thought. Those moments made me start to love myself. I became curious about myself. Who am I now? 

Even now that I’m out, I’m still meeting this new version of me. Every day, I remind myself I’m in charge of my life. This is how I take matters into my own hands. I choose to wake up with a better attitude. I can be miserable or I can be thankful. Not every day is  perfect. Sometimes my old self shows up. But I recognize it, and I make a choice.

These days I wake up at 4:30, make coffee, and work out. One of my housemates was depressed, so I got her moving. Then another joined us. Then another. After workouts, I ask everyone to name one positive thing about themselves. It’s simple, but it changes the energy in the house. That’s the kind of influence I want—to lift people up without even meaning to. I still love art—drawing, painting. Sometimes it’s dark, but it’s mine. I want to set an example—for my kids, for my family, for anyone watching. After everything I’ve survived, I know one thing for sure: I get to choose who I am and how I live. And that choice is the greatest gift of all.