Rooted in Survival – Part 1: Born Into Grief, Raised Into Control

Part 1: Born Into Grief, Raised Into Control

I wasn’t born into safety. I was born into the ashes of my sister.

In 1981, a year before I entered the world, my parents lost their first daughter, Elizabeth, at term. Her death didn’t just break their hearts—it rearranged them entirely. It radicalized them.

My mother had once been a hippy, traveling the country in a rusty Ford truck. She had no interest in religion. My father was a Baptist and a K-9 police officer in Charlotte, North Carolina. But after Elizabeth died, the Baptist church’s doctrine—“once saved, always saved”—couldn’t hold them. They needed more certainty, more control, more punishment.

They found it in the Church of God International, a fringe religious sect that would come to define every aspect of my life. By the time I was school-aged, we didn’t celebrate Christian holidays. We kept Jewish dietary laws and the Sabbath on Saturdays. I wasn’t allowed to participate in “pagan” events with our homeschool group—not even a Valentine’s Day craft.

I was born in 1982, on the very day my aunt had a seizure and learned that her brain tumor had returned. She immediately resigned from the family insurance business. My mother—just hours postpartum—stepped in to replace her. At two days old, I was brought to the office. I would go every day after that. I wasn’t raised. I was used.

At five, we moved in with my father’s parents to help care for my dying aunt. We had one twin bed for my mother and me. My father slept at work. It was a tight and tense situation, but there were glimmers of normalcy. My grandparents had friends. They cooked meals. They lived in the world.

My paternal grandmother, especially, loved and protected me. She was my sanctuary—my only source of tenderness. She wanted to keep me safe. She did everything she could. But it wasn’t enough.

One day during those years, my mother told me she was leaving my father. She asked if I’d be okay with that. I remember the rush of hope—I thought, finally, she’ll save me. But she didn’t. She stayed. And things only got worse.

The religious beliefs grew more extreme. We were no longer part of a church—we were part of a cult. And soon, we would be completely alone.