I was a quiet child — shy, observant, and often called “weird” by my family. While other kids were loud and carefree, I found comfort in silence, in studying people’s movements and moods like hidden languages. I watched everything. I felt everything. And I dreamed — vividly, constantly, in ways no one around me could explain.
Since I was little, I had been dream walking. I'd sleepwalk, talk in my sleep, and return with memories that felt more real than the waking world. But no one thought twice. “She’s just a little different,” they’d say, brushing it off with half-smiles and nervous laughs. So I kept it to myself.
I grew up in the public school system — indoctrinated like most of us — and even though I played the game well (good grades, AP classes), I always felt like I was performing a role I didn’t write. After high school, I jumped headfirst into the chaos of young adulthood: partying, working my first job at Target, meeting new people, chasing freedom wherever it flickered.
Around that time, I found solace in gardening — planting seeds, watching things grow, trying to figure out what I could offer this world. I searched for my “thing.” Maybe I’d become a pediatrician, I thought. But the schooling was too expensive, the path too rigid. Still, one truth kept pulsing beneath it all:
I loved helping people.
I was a natural problem solver. I just didn’t know how to turn that into a “career,” especially in a world that makes you feel like if you don’t pick the right path, you’re lazy. Or lost.
But what if we were never meant to pick from their paths at all?
If you really stop and think about it, most of what we believe — about life, love, success, even God — was handed down to us. Religion, holidays, family traditions, what’s considered “normal” or “good” — it all came from somewhere outside of us. Society shaped our worldview before we even knew we had one. We were trained to follow, not to question.
But I started questioning.
I began looking around and wondering: If Latino, African American, and Indigenous people are considered “minorities,” then why are there so many of us everywhere? Why are the ones called “minorities” the very soul of every city, every culture, every rhythm?
And then I started seeing something even darker — how easily people with power get away with crimes. How money seems to move freely for some, even when it's not theirs. How entire systems are built to protect the corrupt, while punishing those who try to live with heart.
And then… COVID hit.
For some, it was the beginning of their awakening. For me, it was confirmation of what I had been sensing all along — that something wasn’t right with the world we were told to trust.
When it first started, I was still figuring things out, piecing together what felt like scattered truths. But one thing was clear to me: they created the virus — and conveniently, the antidote too. Same playbook, different timeline. We've seen this before, just dressed up differently every time.
I had already stopped getting flu shots years earlier. I noticed that when I didn’t get them, I hardly ever got sick. That was all the confirmation I needed. I knew in my body that these vaccines were not what they claimed to be. There was something else in them — something designed to suppress, not protect.
That deep dive led me down a path that cracked everything open.
I stumbled upon something that would change everything I thought I knew:
Birth certificates are soul contracts.
Agreements made — not with spirit — but with a corporation. A hidden system built to exploit, extract, and slowly kill… all while feeding off our energy for their own gain.
And once you see that, there’s no going back.
At first, I was furious.
I didn’t know what to do with all that truth. I wanted to sue someone, expose everything — but who would believe me? The people who should help are the same ones owned by the system. It felt hopeless.
I started telling others, thinking they’d be just as outraged as I was. But they weren’t. Most brushed it off. Some thought I was making it up. Others looked uncomfortable and changed the subject. Once again, I felt like the crazy one… the only one seeing the fire behind the curtain.
Then something strange started happening. YouTube began feeding me videos — titles like:
"Change Your Status and Reclaim Your Estate."
Curious, I clicked.
A man was explaining how your birth certificate is worth millions, how the government has been secretly using your identity for profit, how it’s tied to your Social Security number. He said you needed to rescind your power of attorney, claim yourself as a sovereign citizen, file forms with the IRS and the Treasury, get a new passport, all of it.
And I believed it — at least for a while.
Months went by. I followed every breadcrumb. And then I realized:
It was just another trap.
Another mimic version of sovereignty designed to keep me spinning in paperwork and false hope.
I stopped. I surrendered. I said to myself, What is meant for me will come.
At the time, I was broke. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Living with family. Watching the dream I once had — of owning a home, having a career, building a future — slip through my fingers.
But I knew deep down… it wasn’t because I wasn’t capable.
It was this system — this backwards, inverted world — that seemed designed to dim my light.
But I was done letting it win.
After finally letting go of the need to control my future, something shifted.
I started seeing the beauty in the situation I once resented. Moving back in with my family wasn’t a failure — it was a gift. I realized how much I had missed them. How much I needed to be surrounded by their presence, their love, their chaos, their warmth. Life didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
So what if I didn’t have a car? I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.
So what if I wasn’t dripping in brand names? I’ve got style — I can make anything look good.
So what if I didn’t have my own place? My presence mattered here.
My uncle needed someone to look after him. My grandma — who raised me — could barely walk anymore. I got to be here, as an adult, to return the love she once gave to me when I had nothing. And that was sacred.
I started to see what truly mattered. And in doing so, I began to feel my flame again.
Shortly after I fully surrendered and accepted where I was in life, things began to shift. A friend started calling me, offering different roles at a nonprofit organization she was helping lead. The pay wasn’t bad, and it was two days remote, three days in the office. It felt like a good balance — I could still help my family while getting back on my feet.
So I accepted.
At first, it seemed like a blessing. But it didn’t take long for me to see through the cracks. The organization was chaotic. No structure. No direction. My friend fired the recruiting team, then hired a new one — who all quit shortly after. I was left doing everything while no one offered to help.
I felt that old familiar pattern creeping back in — being overworked, undervalued, and energetically drained.
And this time, I said no.
I refused to let another system consume me.
It was messy. It was exhausting. But I was able to save just enough to walk away — and this time, walk toward something real.
Now, I begin my true mission.
This. Flame Frequency.
The life I was always meant to live.
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