I Couldn’t Find Her — So I Became Her

What happens when no one models the life you’re trying to build.

When I first got sober, I was desperate to find her.

Someone who had gone before me.
Someone who looked like me.
Someone who came from the kind of life I came from — complex, messy, layered.

Someone who had walked a path that felt even remotely close to mine.

A woman in recovery…
who was also a mother.
who had survived trauma.
who was healing while still in it.
who was building a life, not escaping one.

Someone REAL.

I searched.

In rooms.
In books.
In conversations.

And while I found incredible people…
I couldn’t find her.

Not in the way I needed.

Because I knew — even then — that my story was complex.

I’m a second-generation Latina Canadian.
Raised by immigrant parents who fought hard to survive.
I grew up around chaos, abuse, addiction, and moments of poverty.

I learned how to endure.

And when I found alcohol, it became my companion in everything.

It helped me numb.
It helped me cope.
It helped me not feel what I didn’t yet have the capacity to process.

Until one day… I removed it.

And everything I had been running from was still there.

Sobriety Wasn’t the Finish Line

Getting sober didn’t magically resolve my life.

It was the beginning of meeting myself.

The grief I hadn’t processed.
The trauma I had buried.
The patterns I didn’t even realize I was repeating.

It ALL came to the surface.

And I remember thinking:

Where are the women who have done this before me?

Someone who could show me what it could looked like to dream again.
To feel.
To rebuild.

To live.

To thrive in recovery as a woman of color.

And the truth was…

I couldn’t find her.

The Moment Everything Clicked

Recently, in a coaching session, one of my clients, said something that really landed with me.

She told me how grateful she was for my guidance.

And then she said:

“You embody the transformation I’m working toward.”

She spoke about how rare it felt to witness someone in recovery…
navigating motherhood…
healing…
leading…
all at the same time.

And something shifted in me as I heard her say that.

Not in a way that felt like recognition of achievement…

but in a way that felt like truth landing.

I Became What I Was Looking For

I didn’t set out to become a coach.

Or a speaker.
Or a guide.

I didn’t have some grand plan to turn my healing into leadership.

I was just trying to survive.
Then trying to stay sober.
Then trying to make sense of my life.

But over time…

By staying.
By doing the work.
By choosing truth again and again…

I became the woman I once searched for.

This Is the Work of Cycle-Breakers

Many of us come from backgrounds where we didn’t have models for what we are now trying to build.

We didn’t grow up seeing emotional safety.
Or healthy relationships.
Or truth spoken openly.
Or repair after harm.

We learned survival.

And for a long time, survival is what carries us.

Until it doesn’t.

Until we feel that pull toward something more.

And when we don’t have a blueprint to follow…

we start creating one.

We learn in real time.

We make mistakes.
We repair.
We choose differently.
We try again.

And without even realizing it…

we begin to embody something new.

Your Voice Is the Medicine

In recovery spaces, there’s a saying:

“You keep it by giving it away.”

And I’ve come to understand this on a deeper level.

The things we’ve lived through…
the battles we’ve fought…
the patterns we’ve broken…

They are not just personal victories.

They are medicine.

There are women right now
sitting where you once sat
looking for someone like you.

Not perfect.

Not polished.

Just real.

The Little Girl in Me

Sometimes I think about the little girl I once was.

The one who didn’t feel safe.
The one who didn’t have language.
The one who needed someone to show her another way.

And I realize…

I became her role model.

Not because everything is perfect now.

But because I stayed.

Because I chose differently.

Because I never gave up.

This Is Why I Do This Work

I work with women who come from complex, layered backgrounds.

Women who have survived.
Who have done the work.
Who are sitting on lived wisdom they don’t yet fully trust.

Women who feel the pull toward something more…

but don’t see themselves reflected in the spaces around them.

This is why I do this work.

Not just for myself and my lineage.

But for what becomes possible because we chose differently.

For the children watching us.
For the women walking behind us.
For the version of ourselves who needed this.

We don’t always find the role model we’re looking for.

Sometimes…

we become her.

A Question for You

Who were you searching for…

that you might already be becoming?