I remember the fear freezing every inch of my body during that hot summer night. It was the first night I slept with no bra and a tube top that summer. I had already been living out of my two-seater 1988 Toyota pickup for a few months and had acclimated to sleeping outside, so I was left that night with no other way to cool off than remove the last bit of clothing I could afford to.

I was 19 at the time and decided I’d rather live out of my truck for a little bit than live with my parents. Quite frankly, I had had enough, so when my mom and I argued over what I felt she unreasonably wanted from me, I held my ground.

No, I’m not paying for your party time while I work hard for this money.

No, I’m not paying to cover the necessary expenses because you’d rather stay home and have me take over responsibility.

“I’m tired of you expecting me to give you everything I have.” I told her.

She gave me two choices:

Pay her more than what I was paying already or be out by the time she got home.

So, I did what any other impulsive teenager would do and grabbed all my things and threw it all in the back of my pickup truck. I didn’t think past that moment, I had no other direction or plan. My impulse wore off and my stubborn ego reminded me that, when my mom and I lived out of her Volkswagen bus. I could manage taking care of myself from my truck.

I’ve had the practice, I reminded myself.

The first night I cried myself to sleep.

I settled in at a nearby park and watched the sky turn black. It was scarier than I remembered as a child. I just couldn’t believe that I would rather be homeless than go back home. Something kept telling me it was for the best. I continued to show up to work as if nothing changed. I’d shower at the gym. I’d hang out with my boyfriend after work, pretending everything was ok. It wasn’t until I’d be finished with my tasks for the day that I’d remember I had nowhere to go.

One night, I parked at a local park and settled in for the night. I always laid a pillow in between the seats so my hip wouldn’t fall into the empty space. I seemed to be filling a lot of empty spaces then. I fell asleep telling myself the same thing I said every night, “You made it another day! Tomorrow is going to be better and this too shall pass.” I was woken up, late in the night, by the sound of my car door handle being pulled on and I instinctively jumped up to see what was happening…

Someone was breaking into my car!

Just as they scared me, the second I popped up, they ran off. After a few breaths, I spotted a police cruiser shining their lights through the streets. I felt a flood of ice flow through my body and I froze with fear. Not knowing what to do, I ducked down and prayed they’d move on. I closed my eyes, wishing them away, and opened them only when the flashlight came through my window as they knocked to get my attention.

I rolled the window down on my passenger side door and they asked for me to open the door. I reached down for my keys, on the driver side floor, not realizing the gravity of my action. The officers grabbed their guns and screamed for me to show them my hands. I dropped the keys, started crying and raised my hands. I tried to explain, in between my sobs, that the door was broken and could only be opened by unlocking from the outside. So, after getting permission, I unlocked the driver side of my truck.

At that point, four other cruiser cars surrounded my truck and an officer pulled me out onto the curb and put me in handcuffs. I was so terrified I could only muster to ask if this had anything to do with the guy who tried to break into my truck. Just as I was asking an officer to pull up my shirt because it was dangerously close to revealing everything, another officer recognized me and told the officer closest to me, to take me out of the handcuffs. I spent the next half an hour explaining that I left home and was living out of my truck. I told them how it was all a misunderstanding and that I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Fortunately, they believed me. One by one, the cruisers left until I was left with the officer who recognized me, my seventh grade history teacher.

He let me follow him to the local station and sleep in the parking lot but told me I needed to find a friend or someone to stay with. He reminded me that it’s dangerous to be on the streets alone, like I was, and it could’ve been worse if the police weren’t already looking for the guy who tried to break into my truck and the danger if he didn’t scare so easily. I shudder to think what the worst really is and know that then, just like every other moment in my life…

I was and am divinely protected and supported.

Each night I would promise myself that living in that truck was temporary and I would only ever go up from that moment on. I spent years aligning with my intuition through moments like these; I’ve always been guided to bigger and better things. At that time, I wouldn’t have believed I’d be less than halfway through a doctorate degree. I wouldn’t believe that I was able to create a business from following my passions and spiritual guidance. I couldn’t see past the current valley I was in, but I still held faith that there was a way out and a lesson to be learned.

Today, that event that happened ten years ago, seems like another lifetime. The amount of growth that has happened over a decade has been miraculous to witness. I am beyond grateful to take the experiences I have been through as lessons that let me become the most aligned with my intuition and spirit guides so I can create the life of my dreams. I learned the importance of setting boundaries with my mother and having respect for my mental health and happiness. I learned that I was willing to put myself through a less than ideal situation for 6 months while I saved up to take care of myself and create a sacred space to live in. I learned how to follow my heart and stand up for myself along with what it took to become independent and focused. Being homeless, as a young adult, allowed me the perspective to find what I truly wanted out of my life and the compassion for others in less than ideal situations. Being lost during those months gave me the chance to explore which direction I wanted to set my life on and the ability to look to the future with hope and infinite possibilities.