Part 2: The Messy First Steps (When Going Back Isn’t an Option)

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Trigger Warning

This post discusses abuse, sexual assault, and trauma recovery. If you are in crisis, please reach out to the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (call or text 988 in the U.S.) or find international resources here. You are not alone.

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The Messy Truth of My First Steps

From Part 1, you already know my “start” didn’t look like yoga mats and affirmations — it looked like tears, darkness, and two animals who unknowingly became my lifelines: Gypsy and Estrella.

But there was more.

There were mornings where my pillow was soaked from crying before the sun even came up.

There were afternoons where I sat in silence so heavy it felt like it could crush me.

There were late nights where I stared at the wall and thought, This is too much.

But here’s the thing: even at my lowest, going back was never an option. I had already lived my rock bottom. I knew that if I went back, there wouldn’t be another chance. That’s when you know you’ve hit the real bottom — when the “old life” isn’t even on the table.

And yes, those first steps were messy, they were ungraceful, and candidly, they were painful and they sucked! BUT I wouldn't change them for the world, because from them I became the me I am today. And I like myself today.

Relapses & Reality Checks

Let’s be real: I didn’t walk away from decades of self-loathing without slipping.

The first guy I dated post-divorce? Better than my ex… but still a liar who manipulated my heart. I thought I was in love. I thought we’d grow together. We didn’t.

And it forced me to face this hard truth:

💬 Just because someone helps you grow doesn’t mean they’re honest or healthy for you.

I had to own the places I let myself be changed in ways that weren’t authentic to me.

And yes — I slipped back into emotional eating sometimes. I’d binge on crap food, then stop and ask myself the ugly questions: What am I trying to fill? What am I missing?

When I could answer honestly, I could forgive myself and move forward.

The Mindset Shift

My real turning point came in early 2025.

I had a big decision to make — one of those fork-in-the-road moments. For the first time in my life, I chose what was authentically me. Not the safe choice. Not the choice that would please the crowd. The one that made my soul light up.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t just surviving anymore — I was living for me.

The Resistance

Not everyone clapped for my growth.

Some people missed the “old Regina” — the pretty, polished, palatable version.

But the truth? The old me was a mask. She wasn’t real.

I’ve lost relationships. I’ve gained new ones. Some are in limbo. And that’s okay. The only opinions that matter now are mine, my kids’, and God’s. And I can say this with certainty: all three of those groups are proud of me.

Therapy: The Game-Changer in My Rebuild

I walked into therapy willingly — not because I thought it would be easy, but because I knew I needed it.

An incident at work triggered PTSD from my rape. I had shoved teenage Regina — her pain, fear, shame — into a locked box for decades. That day at work? It cracked the box wide open.

I found a trauma-informed talk therapist who respected my faith without making it “church therapy.” She was safe. She didn’t judge. I could say anything — even the ugliest truths — and she held space for me.

One of my biggest breakthroughs came when she asked why working with Estrella mattered so much to me.

Estrella was a stray dog who had survived hell. She was terrified, shut down, and wouldn’t even take a treat from me at first. But I showed up every day. I sat in her kennel. I told her my story — even parts I hadn’t told my therapist yet. And slowly, she trusted me.

It hit me like a punch: I was Estrella. She was healing me as much as I was healing her.

Therapy taught me hard truths:

I had silenced myself for years, especially after my rape.

I had accepted abuse because I didn’t know how to speak up.

My boundaries were nonexistent, and that was on me to fix.

And it gave me the tools to rebuild:

I can disagree and still be kind.

I can have boundaries and still be loving.

I can advocate for myself and still be a good human.

Therapy wasn’t my only tool, but it became part of the foundation for the woman I’m becoming — the woman God intended me to be.

The upward climb:

I’m no longer in the box they put me in.

I’ve unpacked it, sorted through it, kept the lessons, burned the lies, and walked away without looking back.

I don’t need to be palatable. I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need to be what anyone else expects.

I’m building a life that feels like me — raw, soft, sassy, faith-filled, and unapologetic.

But here’s the thing they don’t tell you about rebuilding:

Once you’ve cleared the rubble, you’re left standing there wondering, Okay… now what?

Part 3 is about that now what.

It’s the shift from surviving and sorting through the wreckage… to actually laying the foundation for a life you love.

It’s the part where the work gets both harder and sweeter — and where you learn that self-love isn’t a destination, it’s a daily practice.

And I promise you — that’s where the magic starts.

See you Friday, but until then... You matter, your journey matters, and if anyone has ever silenced you, please let today be the day you begin your transformation and get the tools you need to find your voice!

Cheers,

Regina