Prologue

There are stories you live before you even know they’re stories—before you have the language to name the wounds, or the courage to own the way you bled for love, truth, and survival.

This is mine.

I have walked with three archetypes in my life—each of them a reflection, a reckoning, and a revelation. I didn’t always know who they were when they arrived. But I knew what they did to me. I carry them still, not as burdens, but as arrowsthat pierced, taught, and ultimately pointed me home to myself.

The Lion – The Mask of Strength, the Weakness of Power

At first, he felt like protection. Steady. Majestic. A man who wore confidence like a crown. I believed him. I built beside him. But over time, I realized this lion’s roar masked insecurity. His strength was performance. Behind closed doors, he wasn’t king—he was chaos. His moods ruled. His validation was currency. His silence was punishment.

Loving him taught me how easily emotional instability can wear the costume of leadership.
But surviving him? That taught me how to lead myself.

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The Bull – The Collision of Passion and Pain

He came in with fire. Unapologetic. Intense. A Taurus through and through—grounded yet unmovable. He wasn’t afraid to challenge me, to stretch me, to stir something ancient in me. He was three things at once:

• The Assassin – He cut deep, teaching through sharp truths and harder goodbyes.
• The Maverick – He loved wildly, without permission or pretense. With him, I took risks I never imagined.
• Cupid’s Bow – He aimed straight for my soul. And he hit it. Every time.

But he also ran. From himself. From us. From a love that mirrored too much back at him.
Loving him cracked me open. Losing him taught me that intensity is not always intimacy.
Still, he marked me. Still, I bless him.

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The Light – The Innocence That Redeems

She is my daughter. My compass. My undoing and becoming.
She asks me questions I don’t always have the answers to. She laughs like freedom and cries like rain. Her presence reminds me that I am still here for a reason.

Where the lion silenced me and the bull awakened me—she anchors me.
She is not just a reflection of me, but a better version of the woman I’m trying to become.

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These are the arrows of my heart.

I don’t write this for pity or performance. I write it because truth is medicine.
I write it because naming what pierced you is the first step in removing the blade.
Because you cannot reclaim your life if you do not first understand how you lost it.

This is my prologue.
The rest of the story?
It is a journey through pain, peace, forgiveness, and fierce becoming.
And I promise—if you’ve ever loved too hard, lost yourself in someone else’s version of you, or carried wounds that never fully healed…

This story might be yours, too.

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