My story
My Story: Manners, Metamorphosis, and Becoming Me
As a child, my mother taught me manners. She showed me how to present myself for occasions. If you’re going somewhere fancy, you dress accordingly. She taught me the art of blending in — knowing when to step up and when to simply belong.
She taught me that a professional headshot with a skilled photographer, with makeup, hair, and the right angles, carries your message clearer than a selfie. Presentation matters. But so does authenticity.
In my community, especially here in Oregon, relatable means simple. Glasses, natural hair, jeans and a sweatshirt. This is Oregon — relaxed culture, not lashes, not weaves, not anything put on. Just comfortable. I’m an Oregonian. Born in Oregon. Raised in California. Introduced early to manners, to the proper way of doing things.
As a teen I won a national contest and was given a platform with Teen magazine. That opened doors. I saw class and wealth through the lens of a UN diplomat, behind the scenes. I entered the United Nations with clearance. I saw things at the mayor’s office that most people never see. I’ve always had a strong connection to politics, to law and order.
But life pulled me away from my mother. I was forced to grow up alone. I experienced heartbreak, loneliness, and a piece of my younger life was stolen. I did the best I could. I even reached out to a father I was told was an evil man. I left Oregon after the death of my stepbrother and closed the door on that relationship.
What resurfaced was the hardest part of my life. A breakdown that lasted years. But that breakdown was also the breakthrough. It freed my mind to become my complete self. I found my voice. I found my strength. I found my roots, my identity, and realized I can speak and share my story.
People say they can’t read me. And maybe that’s true. I walked into jail cells. I had police encounters. And not once did I break when others with mental health issues crumbled. Not once did I lose it. I always remained calm. In the cell, I chose water. I stayed pure and clean.
I’m thankful marriage never happened, because there is a calling God has for me. I saw the visions — not hallucinations like people with mental health issues describe. Not voices. I reconnected with my younger self, the girl who always saw visions as a child.
I’ve learned I can blend into my community, or anywhere. I’m a light-skinned African woman, and I know I can go places others can’t. Not because of privilege, but because of perspective. Because I’ve lived ashes and cocoons and flight.
I was taught to present myself. Now I’ve learned to be myself. And that is my strength.
– Cathryn
