From Teen Mom to Spiritual Entrepreneur: My Journey Back to Myself

People often see where someone is today and assume they have always been that person. They see the degrees, the career, the family, the business, and the confidence. What they do not see are the years spent surviving, rebuilding, healing, and finding a way back home to themselves.

My story begins with a little girl searching for belonging...

Growing up, I moved between homes, grandparents, babysitters, and family members. Some memories are clear and others are blurred. I remember my mother reading Berenstain Bears books to me and I remember longing for safety and consistency. When my mother entered a difficult relationship, my childhood changed. I often felt unseen and alone, finding refuge in my room, books, imagination, and eventually writing.

My younger sister brought light into my life. My grandparents became sources of stability,

my grandfather, whose story of coming from Puerto Rico and building a life

through hard work taught me resilience. Even so, I struggled with belonging, bullying, and feeling different. Writing became my voice. My poems circulated through school and gave me confidence when I struggled to speak for myself.

At sixteen, I became a mother. Many people assumed my life was over. I disagreed. My

daughter became my reason to build something different. Although her father and I loved each other, the relationship became unhealthy and unstable. Leaving was one of the hardest decisions I ever made, but it was necessary.

I earned my GED and became determined to create a future for my daughter and myself. I worked weekends, attended school during the week, and eventually moved into my own apartment at age twenty. I was also navigating public assistance, struggling to find a career, and eventually Section 8 housing after years on a waiting list. These experiences gave me a front-row seat to the realities many families face. What I observed was not a lack of potential. It was often a lack of support, resources, education, and opportunity. Those experiences continue to shape my mission today.

Education became a path forward. I attended community college, earned my associates degree and Creative Writing Certificate, completed my bachelor's degree, and eventually earned a Master of Science in Entrepreneurship and Innovation. As a first-generation college graduate, each degree represented possibility and breaking cycles.

During my twenties, I balanced school, motherhood, work, creativity, and healing. I

performed spoken word poetry, wrote Her DarkRoom poetry book, traveled with my daughter, and began exploring personal development. I was healing childhood wounds while also struggling with alcohol and searching for deeper meaning.

Eventually, I met my husband through a business networking platform. He was kind,

respectful, and unlike anyone I had dated before. Together we built a life and eventually

welcomed our son and daughter. Parenting again after fifteen years was both beautiful and challenging. Our son struggled with sleep from an early age and was later diagnosed with autism. His diagnosis helped us better understand how he experiences the world and inspired me to learn more about child development, Montessori education, sensory learning, and conscious parenting.

One of the hardest losses of my life was my grandmother's decline. After a stroke and

dementia, I felt like I was grieving her long before she physically passed away. She had

helped raise me and my daughter and represented safety, family, and home. Losing her

support changed everything. After years of caring for everyone else, I attended a women's retreat that shifted something inside me. For the first time in years, I was simply Ashley. Not a mother, wife, employee, or caretaker. That retreat opened the door to meditation, holistic wellness, spirituality, cyclical living, nature connection, and personal growth. Through meditation, I often found myself drawn toward nature, ancestral wisdom, and Indigenous teachings about our relationship with the earth and community. I became a student again, reading books, attending programs, and exploring ways of living that felt more connected and intentional.

At a Bashar event, I met one of my closest friends, someone who understood both the

corporate world and spiritual exploration. That friendship reminded me that alignment

often appears when we least expect it.

Life also brought profound grief. My younger sister passed away from an overdose at only twenty-five years old. Her death changed me. It forced me to examine loss, family dynamics, healing, and the patterns that travel through generations.

Around that same time, I made the decision to stop drinking. I realized I wanted to be fully present for my children, fully present for my healing, and fully present for my life. I did not want to numb my emotions or continue patterns I had witnessed growing up. Years later, sobriety remains one of the best decisions I have ever made.

As I continued learning and healing, I noticed something interesting. Many things society

labels as “woo” were actually invitations back to ourselves. Reflection. Intuition. Nature.

Creativity. Community. Connection. These ideas eventually became the foundation of

Normalize the Woo. Simultaneously, I created Soul Prompts, a reflective card deck. What began as a simple idea became a self-reflection card deck designed to help people pause, ask meaningful questions, and reconnect with themselves. Unlike tools focused on predicting the future, Soul Prompts focuses on helping people listen to the wisdom already within them.

Today I continue studying cyclical living, writing, parenting, creating, and building

community. I am currently writing a book exploring parenting, spirituality, self-discovery,

and reconnecting with what truly matters.

If there is one lesson my journey has taught me, it is that healing is not about becoming

someone new. It is about remembering who you have always been underneath the survival, expectations, fear, and responsibilities.

No matter how far we wander, there is always a path leading us back home to ourselves.