𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖘

Life felt empty the moment I turned six.
I clearly remember a dream I had of Jesus when I was in kindergarten. He sat upon a large rock. The clouds looked so vivid it was like a painting. The blue sky's light radiated behind Him, so bright that I couldn’t make out His facial features. He wore a red and off-white fabric. I remember sitting at His feet, and as He reached out His hand to me, I didn’t reach mine back out to Him. After that dream, I noticed a shift in me. I began having dark, intrusive thoughts all day long. Even at that young age, the enemy was already trying to take over my life. The earliest I remember experiencing suicidal ideation was at nine years old. I began to wonder if I was just born evil. I felt like I was created to hurt others, to be a negative influence on my family, born to destroy life. We moved to a wooded area in Orange City, Florida. That’s when I started acting on those wicked desires. I wanted to kill animals—the most innocent ones. I would mutilate insects, rip off their limbs, pour salt on slugs, and remove wings from butterflies and moths. Shortly after, sexual immorality entered my life. I started having confusing desires toward both male and female friends. I knew I was attracted to boys, but I felt masculine inside. I started dressing more and more like a tomboy. Life continued—but it wasn’t pleasant, not for me or my family. I became aggressive, angry, and most of all, deeply alone. I was always introduced to God by His miracle herself—my grandmother Milagros. She raised me alongside my uncle and my mother. My grandmother couldn’t read, so she never read the Bible herself, but she knew the Word of God by heart through the Catholic Church’s teachings during her youth. I was expected to navigate life without the Word of God imprinted in my heart. Truthfully, my family didn’t realize the impact of the Bible. They didn’t know what it meant or what it signified. They didn’t understand the blood or the sacrifice. Because of that lack of understanding, I was left with just the words, “God loves you.” You can imagine how empty that statement feels when you don’t know who God is. I never asked, Why does God love me? Fast forward to middle and high school—those years hit me the hardest. I was in the worst mental state of my life at the time. I experienced hallucinations, constant thoughts of death, and began listening to demonic music. I dressed in all black, wore chains and band T-shirts, and even drew pentagrams on my arms. I remember a particularly dark moment in my room when I felt so numb that I considered giving my soul to the enemy—just so I could feel something. My mental health would improve, then decline again.
At 20, I had my first daughter.
I left her father shortly after her birthday in late 2017.
I met my husband (now the father of my youngest daughter) in 2018. We married in the Catholic Church because my husband was raised Catholic and had attended Catholic school his whole life—it was tradition. Around that same time, I was diagnosed with ADHD, PTSD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and insomnia. Quite the combination, right? By then, my mom had married my stepfather—a theologian. He began showing her the Word, and she started to understand what my real issue was: God was not present in my life. But convincing a stubborn woman in her twenties—bitter at life and newly medicated—to follow God? That was a hard no. I was angry. I believed that if God truly wanted to protect me, He would have already. I felt unworthy of His attention. I had done too much wrong. I continued to spiral and eventually fell into the darkest mental episode of my life. I had never felt closer to death. It got to the point where even my children and my family couldn’t hold me back anymore. I was doing more dangerous things with each passing day. Then, during one of my lowest moments, I hit rock bottom. I fell to my knees and called out to the Lord. I remember crying out, asking Him to come into my life and help me. I was tired of trying to do it on my own. I thought He didn’t have time for me—that I wasn’t worthy of His time. But I cried anyway. I tried attending Mass on my own, thinking it might help my spiritual life—and maybe even my struggling marriage. But I didn’t understand the service. I didn’t understand the saints. I didn’t understand why Mary, the mother of Jesus, was being prayed to. None of it made sense to me. Before moving to Connecticut, my parents attended Epic Church International in Sayreville, New Jersey. I had visited that church a few times. In fact, my daughter was saved there. I was having complications during my first pregnancy. In May 2017, I came to the altar for prayer. My daughter, Storey, was born perfectly healthy on August 2, 2017. In August 2024, I was sitting in my living room with one of my best friends and sister in Christ, Yahiris. She had begun her walk with God earlier that year. As we talked, she shared that she’d been wanting to go to church but was afraid of being spiritually misled. My parents had been trying to get me to go to church for months, and though I hadn’t gone, they often told me to take my best friend. That morning in August 2024, at 10:45 AM (service started at 11), I told her, “We’re going to church today.” I believed I was going to bring her to God. What I didn’t realize was that God had been seeking me this entire time. That day, I learned that God had never left my side.
That day, I learned who God truly was.
That day, I learned who Jesus was—to me.
That day, I felt the Holy Spirit alive inside me. Since then, my life has drastically changed. Spiritual warfare still exists, because I now know how valuable and cherished I am by God—and how strong my purpose is for His Kingdom. But most importantly, God completely healed and renewed my mind. Every deception, every question, every hope, every prayer—answered. Confirmations, signs, and visions—all given. God leaves no question unanswered, because He understands how my mind works and how I need constant reassurance. The only way I can truly give glory to God—the only way I can honor the victory He deserves—is by spreading His Word and helping save others like me, whose minds were once tormented and out of control. Demonic oppression and possession will cease and flee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Allow me to show you how I’ve witnessed God work in one of the most challenging times of my life. May the Father have grace and mercy on us all. In Jesus name Amen!