From Survival to Sanctuary: A Piece of My “Why”

From Survival to Sanctuary: A Piece of My “Why”

There are memories from childhood that don’t fully make sense until you grow up and look back at them through adult eyes.

My mother had six children. My sister and I were the two oldest.

When I was about seven or eight years old, my mom told my sister to take my clothes off and put me outside. I wasn’t in trouble. I wasn’t misbehaving. She thought it was funny. I resisted, confused and scared, so my mom stepped in and helped her. My mother was the one who physically put me outside.

At that age, I didn’t yet understand what that really meant.

We lived downstairs from what was known as a trap house. The people upstairs were drug dealers. As a child, I didn’t process danger the way adults do. I wasn’t afraid in the moment — I simply didn’t have the capacity to understand how exposed and unprotected I truly was. That awareness didn’t come until much later, when I had the words and the life experience to name what my body had already learned.

Elorie (the oldest)

Because my sister and I were the oldest, adult responsibilities were placed on us very early. One of those responsibilities was the laundry. Once a month, it became our job to take the household clothing to the laundromat and wash it. The laundromat we used had a type of taxi service that would pick us up and drop us off.

Two young children, carrying bags of clothes meant for an entire household. Navigating transportation, machines, money, and time. At the time, it felt normal. It was simply what we did. Looking back now, I see how early we were pushed into survival mode — how quickly childhood slipped into responsibility.

Not long after that, when I was in the third grade, my sister and I were placed into foster care. Another shift. Another rupture. Another layer of instability added to an already unsteady foundation. Another moment where I had to learn how to adapt, detach, and survive far earlier than a child should.

There were also words my mother repeated to me throughout my childhood that settled into my nervous system long before I had language for what I felt. She often told me that she wanted a boy, not a girl. She also told me she was upset that I was born so close to Thanksgiving because she had to eat hospital food while everyone else ate Thanksgiving dinner. These were not isolated moments. These were repeated messages — carried across years.

As a child, you don’t always understand how words shape you.
But your body remembers.

For a long time, I moved through the world without fully realizing how deeply these experiences had shaped me. I learned how to read the room before I learned how to rest. I learned how to carry responsibility before I learned how to feel safe. I learned how to survive long before I learned how to exhale.

I didn’t yet understand that growing up without consistent emotional or physical safety would later define my relationship with peace, with boundaries, and with home itself.

But today, I see the connection clearly.

From left to right, Darlynne is 3 years younger than me, Venus is the baby of the family, and Gregery is years younger than me

Marcus 1 year older then Venus

All of this is part of why WithMother LLC exists.

Growing up in environments that didn’t feel safe taught me how deeply our surroundings affect our nervous system, our ability to rest, our ability to regulate, our ability to heal — and even our ability to breathe. When life already feels heavy, a home that is overwhelming, cluttered, or unsafe can push people even deeper into survival mode.

My work evolved into housekeeping, hoarding support, and home resets because I lived the emotional weight of unsafe spaces long before I ever cleaned one professionally. I don’t just see mess — I see nervous systems under pressure. I don’t just see clutter — I see overwhelm, exhaustion, trauma, grief, and people doing their best with what they have.

I know what it feels like to be a child inside chaos.
I know what it feels like to grow up without consistency, protection, or emotional safety.
And I also know how powerful it is when someone finally has a space that feels calm.

WithMother is not just about cleaning.

It is about restoring dignity.
It is about restoring safety.
It is about restoring choice.
It is about helping people breathe again inside their own homes.

Every reset is personal to me because I carry both the child who survived and the adult who now creates safe space. I see more than surfaces. I see patterns. I see nervous systems. I see families trying to hold it together under weight most people never see. And I never approach a space with judgment — only with care, respect, and intention.

If any part of this story resonates with you — if you grew up too fast, carried too much too early, or learned to survive before you learned to feel safe — please know you are not alone. Your past does not disqualify you from peace. Your survival is not your identity. And your home is allowed to become a place of rest, no matter where you started.

Thank you for holding space for my story. 💚

Work With Me / Learn More

WithMother LLC — Business & Community Work
https://www.wmotherllc.com

Personal Support (Not WithMother)
This link supports me personally and helps with individual expenses outside of the business:
https://mlion.us/$CleverCandida715