From Trauma to Triumph: Celebrating Maddox at 21

Today is a day I honestly wasn’t sure we’d ever see. My son Maddox is 21.

If you’ve read my book Love Never Quits or followed our story on www.traumadramauniversity.org, you know what a journey it’s been. We adopted Maddox when he was just a baby. His earliest experiences in foster care left deep scars—he came to us angry, anxious, and overwhelmed by a world that had already failed him. As he grew, so did the intensity of his behaviors. His violence, fear, and inner turmoil often made our home feel like a war zone.

By the time he was 10, we were already counting the days until 18—not out of relief, but out of desperation. We needed help that love alone couldn’t provide. On his 17th birthday, we made the heartbreaking decision to turn custody over to the state so he could receive care for his suicidal ideation. It was one of the most painful decisions I’ve ever made as a mother. At that time, it felt like we were losing him—and losing ourselves.

But love never quits.

Today, Maddox is not only alive—he is thriving. He has matured emotionally in ways I never could have imagined. Honestly, in some ways, he’s more emotionally grounded than I am. He’s building a career he’s excited about, dreaming big, and—most importantly—he is comfortable in his own skin. That, in itself, is a miracle.

We’ve put Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) in the rearview mirror. It no longer defines our daily life, or his future.

And now, here he is: a full-fledged adult. Capable. Grounded. Hopeful.

I am so proud of the man he’s becoming—and I cannot wait to see what he does next.

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A Note About Trauma Drama University

As we celebrate this milestone, I also want to share some bittersweet news: after much reflection, we’ve made the decision to close the doors of Trauma Drama University.

There are a few reasons behind this choice. First and foremost: the funding. Starting a nonprofit is hard—but sustaining one without deep financial backing is even harder. We found ourselves spending more time trying to keep the lights on than doing the work we truly felt called to do. Month after month, I covered the shortfalls myself, and it just wasn’t sustainable.

But the deeper truth is more personal. Being in the trauma space—while trying to survive and recover from my own trauma—became too much. For years, I ignored the impact that parenting a violent, traumatized child had on me. In therapy, I began to unravel the truth: I was a trauma survivor long before Maddox entered my life. I’d never taken the time to heal from my childhood. I didn’t even recognize that my own behaviors were trauma responses until recently.

After filming a reality TV show and participating in a speaking contest last year, I hit a wall. I was triggered in ways I couldn’t push through, and I realized: I couldn’t help others if I wasn’t helping myself first. So I stepped away and began focusing on my own healing.

Now, from a more grounded and healthier place, I’m closing this chapter—with gratitude. Over 400 families found guidance, community, and hope through Trauma Drama University. I only wish I could have done more—but I know in my heart that what we built mattered. And that’s something I’ll always be proud of.

Thank you to everyone who supported us. Healing is not a straight path, but it is a possible one. I’m living proof.