And how do I know all this? Because below this text is a picture of me, living proof that shade doesn’t get the final word.
My story has roots that reach back through generations. My pap as I called him my dad’s dad grew up in deep poverty, the kind that trains you to survive but forgets to teach you how to rest. My dad carried that scarcity forward. He left when I was two, not out of malice, but confusion. We did see each other, yet he found it hard to reach out. I became the child who reached and reached until I mistook silence for rejection.
My mum was adopted, which meant love to her was both a blessing and a question mark. She loved me the only way she knew how, by doing everything. Homework, choices, emotions, all packaged with affection and a little bit of overdrive. She tried to make sure I never felt what she once did: unwanted. And in doing so, she accidentally built a cage made of care.
So yes, I grew up thinking love was giving too much, chasing too hard, and proving I was worth staying for.
Thirteen years of addiction, chaos, and heartbreak later, I finally realised, I wasn’t broken. I was just running code written long before me.
Because that’s how incarnation works: when you’re born into a family, your brain literally maps itself to those emotional dynamics. It’s not that you’re unworthy, it just feels that way while you’re living inside the pattern.
You inherit the emotional software, but you are not the software. You’re the one who gets to rewrite it.
And that’s what I did, I created the literal way out. Emovere.
What started as my survival turned into a roadmap, a practice of moving emotion, freeing the body, and restoring the heart’s original language: safety, belonging, and light.
So that picture below? It’s not a “before” or “after.” It’s a snapshot of someone who finally understood that healing isn’t about fixing what’s wrong, it’s about remembering what was never broken.
Poverty, abandonment, adoption, addiction, they were just coordinates pointing me back home. And now, that home is called Emovere. It’s how I move people, body and soul, back into the truth that they were never the pain, they were always the love.
Here is a poem I created as a message from me to you: