They say you have to understand where you’ve been to truly know where you’re going.

“You’re here for the light.”

Those words woke me from my sleep one night in a Las Vegas hotel room. It wasn’t a dream..it felt too real for that. The Voice was clear, calm, and unlike anything I’d ever heard. I shot up, heart racing, scanning the room for the source. My mom was asleep beside me, and the only glow came from the Strip far below, a thin shimmer sneaking through the curtains.

Was that the light the Voice meant?

I tiptoed to the window, opened the blinds, and stared down at the neon skyline. Nothing. No sign. No more words. Just silence and a strange sense of peace. I crawled back into bed, waiting for the Voice to return. It didn’t.

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Searching for Meaning

The next morning, I didn’t tell anyone, not my mom, not our friends. We were on a mother-daughter trip, and the day unfolded like any other. Brunch, laughter, sightseeing. But the message haunted me quietly.

Back home, I kept wondering why now? My life looked picture-perfect from the outside. I was newly married, a new mom, building a home filled with all the things I used to pray for, a family, a dog, a career. Everything was new. Everything was supposed to be good.

But inside, something felt off.

Before marriage, I was confident, driven, independent, my own person with my own life and goals. I was the girl who had her own apartment, car, and a circle of friends who made her laugh until her stomach hurt. But in chasing the dream husband, child, house, dog, I slowly lost pieces of myself.

You might look at that version of me and say, “You’re so lucky. You got everything you wanted.”
Not exactly.

What I thought was love was often manipulation, and what I accepted as normal affection was actually emotional abuse. It took years and a voice in the night to make me start looking back to understand how I ended up there.

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Looking Back to Move Forward

I was ten when my parents divorced. (Yes, we’re going that far back. Childhood has a way of shaping everything.)

My parents met young. My dad had seen my mom around town and made it his mission to meet her. One night, he spotted her in a restaurant while he was there on a date with someone else. Charming, right?

He flirted, she resisted, and his date eventually sat there quietly while he worked his magic. A few weeks later, he called my mom, and that was it. Their on-and-off relationship began. My dad was equal parts Prince Charming and heartbreak waiting to happen the kind who could sweep you off your feet and disappear just as fast.

Eventually, my mom had enough. She moved to California, started over, and he followed…promising change. They eloped, had me, and for a while, things looked good.

From the outside, we were the picture of a happy 90s family: vacations, game nights, slumber parties, and Sunday dinners. But inside, I learned early how to live with contradiction. I heard the fights through the vents. I saw the phone calls from “friends.” I felt the confusion of loving someone who could also cause so much pain.

That’s the part no one talks about, the quiet lessons you learn from chaos.

When my parents finally divorced, my mom became the rock that kept us grounded. She worked hard to create peace where there had been noise. And even as my dad drifted in and out of our lives, I learned to normalize the back-and-forth. The good and bad. The love and the loss. The dark and the light.

That duality became my blueprint for love and eventually, my undoing.

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The Meaning of the Voice

As I’ve revisited those memories, that night in Vegas stands out more than ever. What does it mean to be here for the light?

Maybe it means you can’t see the light until you’ve sat in the dark long enough to know the difference. Maybe it means every heartbreak, every disappointment, every lesson is leading you back to yourself.

I haven’t heard the Voice again, but I still hope I will. Once before, as a child, I felt something similar, a moment of stillness, of something bigger than me. Back then, I dismissed it as a dream. But now I know better.

Life’s whispers don’t always come when we want them to. Sometimes, they show up when we least expect them. In the quiet, in the heartbreak, in the middle of the night above the Las Vegas strip.

And through it all, I remind myself: I’m still Such a Lucky Girl.