Before I chose to go by my middle name Shanell, and long before I understood healing, purpose, or even my own worth, I was a little girl named Piggy.
That nickname was given to me by the one man who was supposed to protect me, my father. The person who should have been my first example of safety and love was the first person to wound me in ways a child should never experience.
When those we trust the most are the ones who hurt us, something inside a child begins to break. It creates confusion, shame, and questions that follow you into adulthood.
Why did he hurt me?
Why didn’t he see me the way a father was supposed to see their daughter?
What did I do wrong?
Those questions stayed with me for years.
My mom was unable so she couldn’t be there for us, and her absence created another scar that shaped my childhood. The feeling of abandonment became something I carried quietly inside of me.
Growing up, I was raised by my great aunt in a home that was strict and most of the time a home that was filled with the overwhelming lack of emotional stability. Instead of experiencing the softness of childhood, I learned how to be a caretaker and housekeeper. I learned that I rest was something earned, not necessary. Most importantly, I learned to survive.
I learned to push through, no matter what.
I learned to stay quiet.
I learned to carry pain that I didn’t yet have the words to explain.
Like many people who grow up surrounded by trauma, I entered adulthood still carrying wounds I did not fully understand. The little girl inside of me was still longing for love, safety, and validation.
Because I never learned how to give that love to myself, I spent many years searching for it in other people, especially in men.
I looked for someone who would finally make me feel chosen. Protected. Worthy. Loved.
But when we search for someone else to heal wounds that belong to our own heart, we often find ourselves repeating the same painful cycles for our own children.
The truth is, what I was really searching for was the love I never learned how to give to the younger version of myself.
I was still trying to heal the little girl who begged to be seen, Piggy.
The little girl who was hurt.
The little girl who believed she wasn’t enough.
When I was 28 years old, I began to use pills to feel good and numb any pain deep within me. Sadly, at that time, I didn’t understand what was really happening to me.
You see, addiction often grows from unhealed pain. It becomes a way to quiet the thoughts, numb the memories, and escape feelings that feel too heavy to carry.
Looking back now, I understand something that took years to see clearly.
Addiction was not the root of my struggle.
It was a symptom of wounds that had never been healed.
But my story does not end there.
Somewhere along the way, something inside of me refused to give up. Even when life felt heavy. Even when I doubted myself. Even when the past whispered that I would never become anything more than what I had already experienced.
A quiet voice inside of me began to say something different.
Maybe your story is not over.
Maybe your pain has a purpose.
Today, I am nearing the completion of a Bachelor of Science in Justice Studies from Grand Canyon University — something the little girl I once was could never have imagined. I chose this path because I want to help young people who feel troubled, misunderstood, or invisible.
The ones who feel like nobody truly sees them.
People like I once was.
Her Legacy Unchained was created because I know what generational trauma looks like. I know how deeply it can shape identity, relationships, parenting, and self-worth.
But I also know something just as powerful.
Healing is possible.
No matter where you started.
No matter how broken things may feel.
No matter how many mistakes you believe you’ve made.
We all have a purpose.
And it is never too late to step into the calling that was meant for you.
The truth is that stepping into your purpose will feel terrifying. Most of the time we don’t feel qualified. We doubt ourselves. We question whether we are capable of becoming the person we feel called to be.
But the struggles we survived were not wasted.
They were lessons.
They were preparation.
They were shaping us for the work we are meant to do.
Her Legacy Unchained exists to remind women that the chains of generational trauma, abandonment, addiction, and shame can be broken.
Not perfectly.
But courageously.
Because when one woman chooses to heal, she doesn’t just change her own life.
She changes the legacy that comes after her.
And somewhere, a little girl who once felt invisible finally begins to realize something she should have known all along.
She was never broken.
She was becoming.