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When life changes overnight

Life has never been simple, but it has always been filled with blessings. When I look back at the last decade, I see a story shaped by resilience, motherhood, disability, education, and a relentless belief that giving up is never the answer. My hope is that by sharing my journey, someone out there will feel less alone — and maybe even see the light within themselves a little more clearly.

The phone call that changed everything

In 2014, my world shifted. My mother survived a devastating transport‑truck rollover that left her with an acquired brain injury. At the same time, my first child was turning one, and I had just discovered I was pregnant with my second while attending college full‑time to build a better future for my family.

That same year, my husband suffered a workplace accident that resulted in a head injury and long‑term disability. Somehow, in the middle of all this, I completed my diploma in Early Childhood Education and Autism Sciences. I became an Educational Assistant — a role I loved deeply.

Our oldest child was later diagnosed with ADHD, just like me. Our youngest was diagnosed with autism, ADHD, and anxiety. I live with ADHD and anxiety as well, and our neurodivergent family has taught me more about compassion, patience, and strength than any textbook ever could.

Falling in Love with Helping Children — and Facing the System’s Gaps

Working with children with high support needs was one of the greatest joys of my life. I poured everything I learned from my boys into my work. But the system wasn’t built to protect staff or students the way it should.

I experienced workplace injuries — not because of the children, but because of unsafe environments, lack of accommodations, and decisions made without understanding the realities of high‑needs classrooms. I advocated for ethical setups, proper staffing, and safety, but too often, operational convenience outweighed humanity.

Even after returning from injury with medical accommodations, I was repeatedly placed in roles that were unsafe for both me and the children. I was scratched, pinched, pulled, and placed in situations where compassion fatigue became overwhelming. I cried the kind of cry that comes from deep exhaustion — the kind that tells you something must change.

Returning to School — and Nearly Losing My Life

Despite everything, I wanted to help more. I returned to university, first in Neuroscience, then — after a tear‑filled realization that calculus wasn’t my destiny — I found my true academic home in Anthropology. I was accepted into the honours program and maintained a GPA above 9.

But during university, I became severely ill. A kidney surgery led to sepsis, and I nearly lost my life. I finished assignments while my body shook uncontrollably in pain. Some professors showed immense compassion; others believed that if I could open a laptop, I must be fine.

I wasn’t fine. I was fighting to survive.

Yet somehow, I completed an exam with a 92% while heavily medicated and barely able to walk. I taught myself to walk again. I continued studying. I continued mothering. I continued showing up.

Because I had to. I am the sole financial provider for my family.

The Breaking Point — and the Awakening

After taking a two‑year leave to recover, I returned to work, still not fully healed. I loved the children, but the system remained unchanged. Unsafe placements. No accommodations. High‑risk environments. Emotional and physical exhaustion.

One day, after being scratched and injured again while trying to support a child who required far more than one person could safely provide, I broke down. Teachers supported me. They advocated for me. They told the truth about the child’s needs — needs that were not being met.

But the administration insisted I “just do my job,” even if it meant risking my health. Even if a child could choke. Even if the environment was unsafe.

That was the moment I knew something had to change.

Miracles in the Middle of Chaos

Life has a way of sending reminders that kindness still exists.

Recently, I hit black ice on a road trip. I could have died. My best friend could have died. But we didn’t. A car ahead of us drove slowly, unknowingly protecting us.

The next day, when I took my car to the mechanic expecting a $600 bill, the woman handed me my keys and said, “Merry Christmas.” No charge.

That same day, my children brought home a gift from their school — cookies, a stuffed reindeer, and a $100 Walmart card. I cried. It felt like the universe whispering, you are not alone. Keep going.

Sometimes Life Opens Doors You Never Knew Existed

There are moments in life when everything feels heavy — when the path ahead looks foggy, uncertain, or impossibly far from where you hoped to be. And then, without warning, life shifts. A door cracks open. An opportunity appears in a place you never thought to look. Something inside you whispers, This might be for you.

Those moments are rarely loud. They don’t always arrive wrapped in confidence or clarity. Sometimes they show up disguised as hardship, change, or even heartbreak. But if you look closely, you’ll notice that the most unexpected opportunities often grow from the most difficult seasons.

Life has a way of nudging us toward the places we’re meant to be — even when we don’t feel ready, even when we’re scared, even when the timing feels impossible. The truth is, opportunities don’t always wait for perfect circumstances. They show up when you’re exhausted, when you’re rebuilding, when you’re questioning everything. They show up when you least expect them, but exactly when you need them.

And when they do, something powerful happens.

You begin to see yourself differently.
You begin to trust your resilience.
You begin to understand that your story isn’t defined by what you’ve lost, but by what you choose to rise toward.

Sometimes the opportunity is a new career.
Sometimes it’s a new passion.
Sometimes it’s a new version of yourself — one you didn’t know you were allowed to become.

Life will surprise you.
It will challenge you.
But it will also open doors you never imagined you’d walk through.

So when something unexpected appears — a chance, a spark, a possibility — don’t dismiss it. Don’t shrink from it. Don’t assume it’s meant for someone else.

It might be the beginning of the chapter you’ve been waiting for.

And you deserve to step into it.

The Birth of Estrella & The Stars

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Growing up in a housing complex with a single mother who played both parental roles, I learned early how to create something out of nothing. I hosted library clubs, sold lemonade, and went Christmas caroling to buy my mom gifts.

That entrepreneurial spark never left me.

So, I created Estrella & The Stars — not just a business, but a movement. A celebration of neurodiversity, art, boldness, and being unapologetically yourself. A reminder that being different is powerful. That authenticity is alignment. That creativity is resistance.

I want to build a world where compassion is the norm, not the exception. Where workplaces support people instead of breaking them. Where children with high support needs receive the care, they deserve. Where neurodivergent families feel seen.

Starting Over at 45 — And Applying for My Master’s

I’m graduating this year with my Anthropology degree. Not with honours — because mandatory attendance policies don’t consider the realities of working mothers, disabled parents, or single‑income families. But with pride. With gratitude. With a GPA above 9.

I’ve applied for my Master’s. I’m nervous about ageism. I’m nervous about the future. But I’m also hopeful.

Because I’ve learned that destiny isn’t about timing — it’s about courage.

A Message to Anyone Reading This

If you’re struggling, please hear me:

Do not let anyone dim your light.
Do not let systems define your worth.
Do not let hardship convince you that you are alone.

Your story matters. Your resilience matters. Your compassion matters.

And even in the darkest moments, miracles are still happening all around you.

Never stop being who you are. You are beautiful. You are needed. You are a star.