Born into the organization, I spent my formative years in Kingdom Halls, knocking
on doors, believing I had "the truth." At eighteen, I made the hardest decision
of my life: I left, knowing it would cost me my community, my worldview, and
relationships with family and friends still inside.
"Leaving didn't just change my beliefs—it taught me that truth is worth any cost,
even when that cost is everything you thought you knew about yourself."
This experience—layered with childhood trauma, family dysfunction, the pain of intimate
relationships that left their own scars, medical challenges, and the everyday battles
of survival—shapes everything I create. My dark fantasy explores not just cult psychology
but the accumulated weight of wounds that compound over time. My music voices the complex
grief of multiple losses: religious community, family bonds, innocence, trust in those
we loved most, and the selves we had to abandon to survive. Each story and song carries
the full spectrum of trauma and resilience—because healing isn't about one pivotal moment
but the slow, patient work of integrating all our broken pieces.
As an ex-JW author and trauma survivor, I write for anyone who carries multiple
wounds, anyone whose story can't be simplified to a single event. My goal is to
create art that acknowledges the messy reality: that trauma accumulates, that
healing spirals rather than ascending, and that some days just getting through
is enough.
Thirteen years after leaving, something has shifted. For a long time I hated
everything the organization had touched—the Bible most of all—and I built an
us-versus-them wall against anyone who still believed. Lately I've been letting
myself find hope and comfort in the scriptures I grew up on, without the pressure
and control that once came attached. Not going back. Reclaiming. I refuse to let
an ideology hold that much negativity over me, I refuse to let a book make me
recoil, and I refuse to let anyone make me feel bad about how I heal.
