As a teenager, I was in and out of institutions designed to shrink me. Therapeutic boarding schools, special education classrooms, children’s hospitals—places that said they were built to help, but mostly wanted me quiet, compliant, contained. Not whole, not curious, and definitely not free. These systems didn’t care about truth. They cared about order.
Still, I got out. I made it to college, then law school. I played the part, hit the milestones, collected the wins. From the outside, I was thriving. But I was doing it by severing the truth of who I was. I kept my trauma tucked away, treated it like a stain I needed to bleach out of my story.
But here’s the thing: trauma isn’t a badge of honor, sure—but it’s not shameful either. It’s not something to sanitize. It’s not something to erase. And it damn sure isn’t something to turn into a TED Talk just to make other people comfortable.
I didn’t want to be someone who simply “overcame.” I wanted to be someone who integrated. So I burned down the “from trauma to courtroom” narrative that had been written for me. And I started crafting a new one. One where I didn’t just have trauma in my past—but hold it, every day, and still move, build, lead, and live. Not in spite of it. With it.
This work—Narrative Strategy—isn’t just business for me. It’s personal. I’m building it for the younger version of me who didn’t need another lesson in how to disappear herself. She needed someone to tell her the truth: that it’s possible to be whole. Even in a world that’s built to break you into parts.
And then she needed someone to show her how.
Own Your Damn Story Consulting 