Trigger warning: This post discusses topics including childhood abuse, mental illness, and loss.

Growing up, my relationship with my mother was fraught with challenges. She was often verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive, leaving me with few fond memories of her. My father, who had to work two jobs to support us because my mother was disabled, was often absent due to the demands of his work. Yet, amidst this turmoil, there was one exception that stands out—a rare respite from the chaos. Sitting beside my mother on the couch as she read to me brought a fleeting sense of comfort and peace. Her voice brought stories to life, sparking my imagination and planting the seed of my lifelong love for reading. These moments, however brief and isolated, left an indelible mark on me, shaping my connection to books and the power of storytelling.

As I grew older, my love for reading often took me outdoors, where I’d sit under the biggest tree in our yard, lost in the worlds within the pages. That tree became my sanctuary—a place where imagination bloomed and stories came alive. Over time, my creativity found new forms of expression. I discovered photography and began staging scenes with my stuffed animals, Barbie dolls, and delicate glass figurines. Each ‘photo shoot’ was a small story in itself, inspired by my dream of crafting children’s tales. Looking back, these moments were more than play; they were the first steps in my lifelong journey of storytelling and artistic exploration.

In high school, my creative journey extended beyond writing. I became a photographer for the school yearbook and eventually earned the role of yearbook editor. Those experiences further solidified my dream of becoming a photojournalist, a vision inspired by my love for both storytelling and visual artistry. My paternal grandmother, a freelance photographer, played an instrumental role in nurturing this dream. She would take me along on her photo shoots and let me take pictures with her, sharing her passion and teaching me to see the world through the lens of a camera. Those moments with her deepened my love for photography and strengthened my resolve to pursue it as a creative outlet.

My goal was to pursue dual degrees in photography and English at Beloit College, and though I was accepted, financial limitations led me to begin my studies at a community college. For reasons I can’t quite pinpoint, I ultimately had to step away from college. Despite these detours, those formative years taught me valuable lessons about resilience and the evolving nature of dreams.

However, in 2013, I earned an Associate of Arts in Business Administration with a focus on Visual Communications from American InterContinental University. This milestone honed my creative and academic endeavors, reminding me of the value of education and perseverance even through detours and challenges.

For years after leaving college, the demands of work and the necessity of supporting myself took over. Writing and reading, once my passions, were gradually set aside. My days became consumed with practical responsibilities, leaving little room for creativity or self-expression. It wasn’t an intentional choice, but rather a survival mechanism—a way to navigate the challenges of adulthood.

These sacrifices weren’t unique to me; they are the inevitable byproduct of a system that prioritizes profit over people. Under capitalism, creative pursuits often fall to the wayside as we’re forced to prioritize economic survival. The pressure to produce and the constant financial precarity leave little room for self-actualization, community, or exploration. I’ve learned firsthand how this system drains our potential—not just individually, but as a society. My story is one of countless others shaped by the harsh realities of a world driven by profit and competition, rather than care and creativity.

Eventually, the demands of work took a toll, leaving me disabled and forcing a major shift in my life. Between 2016 and 2018, I became politically engaged as a card-carrying libertarian. My time in the party sparked a deep curiosity about U.S. foreign policy, particularly its interventionist tendencies. However, I soon found myself at odds with their economic policies, leading me to leave the party in search of alternative frameworks. This shift marked the beginning of my journey into blogging and researching U.S. foreign policy.

This turning point led me to begin blogging and researching U.S. foreign policy in earnest. As I delved deeper, I began to notice a recurring pattern: whenever a country nationalized its natural resources, the U.S. often intervened, orchestrating or supporting regime change efforts. My search for answers led me to the Soviet Union’s history and eventually ignited my interest in Marxism-Leninism. For the first time, I felt I was uncovering the frameworks that explained not just U.S. foreign policy but the structure of power, exploitation, and resistance on a global scale.

After my brother tragically passed away from coronavirus, my criticism of capitalism deepened further. His death was a stark reminder of the ways profit-driven systems fail to prioritize human life and well-being. Around this time, a personal trigger brought my decades-long struggle with mental illnesses into sharp focus. Reflecting on my past, I turned to creative writing as a form of personal reflection and emotional processing. Poetry and storytelling became invaluable tools to help me navigate the complexities of my emotions and better understand myself. Through writing, I’ve found not only a way to manage my mental health but also to reconnect with my creativity and passion for exploring the world around me.