Growing up, I always felt like the black sheep—a bit different, often misunderstood. Looking back, I can see just how much trauma and bullying I was carrying on my shoulders, though I didn’t realize the weight of it all until much later in life. Those early experiences were heavy, casting shadows over my sense of self and leading me down a path of isolation. It’s a strange thing, how those invisible scars can shape who we are, lingering long after the experiences themselves have passed.
For years, I felt judged for choices I made or things I might have done differently if I’d known then what I know now. It was easy to feel like I didn’t quite fit the mold, especially when it seemed everyone around me had things figured out. But those difficult experiences, both the trauma and the feelings of being “less than,” are also what built the foundation for the life I have today.
Society often defines us by what we did when we were young, as if the mistakes of our youth are carved in stone. If you didn’t graduate college or had a run-in with the law, people can be quick to make assumptions about your whole life. It’s heartbreaking how many of us carry that judgment with us, believing it says something about our worth. I carried that feeling for a long time, feeling “less than” because I didn’t take the “traditional” route and because I struggled to shake off the scars left by early bullying and trauma.
But eventually, I found my own way, stumbling into a world that seemed tailor-made for someone like me: technology and computers. In this digital world, I had an outlet, a place where my creativity and problem-solving skills could thrive. It felt like discovering a hidden talent, something that allowed me to both express myself and build my confidence. Technology didn’t judge; it simply allowed me to create.
And then something amazing happened—people started paying me to do what I loved. To be valued for my work was something I hadn’t fully experienced before. Every dollar earned represented more than just income; it was validation, a reminder that my skills had real worth. In this work, I wasn’t just the “black sheep” but someone who was building a business and a reputation, gaining confidence and independence. I could earn a living while watching my two baby boys grow, feeling more grounded in who I was and what I could achieve.
It seems almost silly now, looking back at how much weight we place on our teenage years, as if the person we were back then defines our entire future. For me, those years were just the opening chapter, and while they were formative, they don’t tell the whole story. Since then, I feel like I’ve lived nine lives, each one giving me fresh insight and teaching me lessons that no classroom could. I can’t help but see the irony when I compare my path to those who seemed to have it all figured out at 16 and are now still living the same lives, perhaps never feeling the need to stretch or struggle as I did.
My journey has been anything but traditional, but I wouldn’t trade it. The trauma, the struggles, the feeling of being misunderstood—all of these experiences have given me resilience, depth, and a perspective that I wouldn’t have gained otherwise. Now, I see that the labels we carry from our youth don’t define us unless we let them. Embracing who we truly are and turning our unique stories into strengths is how we rise above expectations and build lives that are truly our own.
Today, as I work on my business, I’m grateful for every part of my journey—the good, the bad, and the unexpected. Each moment brought me closer to who I am now, and it’s a reminder that the black sheep has a unique strength of its own.
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