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Since the very conception of my being, my life has never been my own. Cursed and unwanted in the womb. Used as a pawn in battles that were never mine. Desecrated, diminished. Passed around, passed over. Left behind, forgotten. Those dearest to me stolen by a thief in the night. So much darkness. So much pain. Each time I reached out, it only brought new lashes from the very hands that claimed to love me. I learned too quickly: reaching out was not safe. Forced to dance to another’s melody. Forced to love in twisted ways. Forced to smile, to pretend. Taught to hide behind masks. Shamed. Forsaken. Burdened with secrets that were never mine to carry. The exhaustion is bone-deep, a slow death creeping through my soul. I reach out again— but my words fall on deaf ears. So, alone I stand. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping someone will see me— and love me for me. Not for beauty. Not for what I can offer. Not for fleeting pleasure. But simply… to love me. So I stand. Alone. Waiting. Hoping. Desiring a love that will stretch to the ends of the earth. A love that is unconditional. A love that bears burdens. A love that is gentle, safe, and kind. A love that leaves no scars. A love that does not spit upon my face. A love that covers and protects. A love that does not betray or reject. A love that does not silence me, or demand I wear masks. Some call it a fairytale. And yet—still I wait. In the quiet, something brilliant breaks through, the reality of my existence. I am already part of the greatest love story ever told, and the fairytale I longed for, was mine all along.

My heart bleeds, day after day. The past still has its claws in me. Death grips my soul, and with every ounce of strength, I fight to break free. I try to keep my eyes forward— to breathe in today, to let go of yesterday’s pain. But like a demon from hell, it seizes me again, demanding every cell of my being, so used to controlling me. What I would give to rewrite my past. What I would give to end it all and begin again. No one understands. No one feels this agony. Men lined up quickly, hastily and greedily, seeking my Shangri-La— lust without love, desire without depth, touch without sincerity. No one has loved me past my flaws. No one has walked with me through the dark nights. No one has been strong enough to hear the anguish of my heart, to heal the pieces broken so long ago, to stand as my strong tower— my knight in shining armor— gentle with the most beautiful and broken parts of me, willing to protect them with every last ounce of energy. Years spent living in fear. Years running in circles, pushing wisdom aside, never realizing that pain and devastation had driven me into arrogance and pride. I am humbled by my pain— humbled that I made choices based on lies. Humbled that millions of breaths passed before I realized how much time I had wasted trying to rewrite the past instead of living for the future. Humbled that I held onto my pain like a long-lost lover. Humbled to be alone— yet grateful for the solitude and peace that now surround me. I am humbled, so very humbled… but I am also grateful. Grateful for this painful humility, for it has dulled the sharp edges of ego and pride. I am encouraged— tomorrow holds new opportunities to try again. I am hopeful— for tomorrow carries the mysteries of new territory, the beginnings of a new me. And now I know— it is safe to let go of the pain that turned to pride, so I can love, and be loved, completely.

SURRENDER Surrender feels so frightening— an unknown journey. Too many past horrors to risk laying down my authority. People see, they judge, without ever knowing my story. So I build walls, brick by brick, with endless energy. The faster I move, the less I think. Distraction becomes my shield against the stench fear left behind. Blind, I cannot see the bind I am in— the prison I built by believing the lies, spoken long ago to steal away my spirit, to silence my soul. Surrender feels so frightening—an unknown journey. Too many past horrors to risk laying down my authority. So I whisper, day after day: Surrender is not an option. Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t feel. Quickly wondering— is it all in vain? Keep moving. Keep moving. I must produce. Keep moving. Keep moving. But the nuts and bolts are coming loose. And deep inside, a single chant echoes: Keep moving or die… Keep moving or die… Keep moving or die… SURRENDERING But then— a moment of stillness. A time to stop and ponder what my life has truly been about. No longer a child— not for a long while. It was time to live by His style. Surrender is still frightening, unknown territory… yet it whispers of freedom, of my true authority. As I grow, I begin to flow in the liberty given to me long ago. Authority to speak life, to call miracles into existence. Authority to confront evil without resistance. Authority to crush the enemy’s head. Authority to sing hope into the walking dead— the dead of heart, the dead of spirit. I lift my voice, so they may hear it. And the more I surrender, the more I grow— making it easier now to ebb and flow. The lies fade into the distance, their power at last undone. And when I look into the mirror, I finally see— the woman I was created to be. SURRENDERED To live surrendered— such a holy feat. It is more than a seat at the table. It is bowing low, humbly, at Jesus’ feet. It is stillness without the crutch of pills. It is meekness, quiet strength while the heart seeks. It is laying pride aside, allowing His hands to unweave the lies. And now my heart stirs— beating a melody brand new, a song no one else has heard, crafted by the Hands of Love. A new day has dawned. Pride laid down, I rise into a new stride. I sit quietly, sweetly singing my song. I walk lightly, held tightly in His love, dwelling daily in His shadow. No longer a clanging gong.

My Testimony is written to bring hope to the hopeless and brings into focus the strength we all have within us. Jesus is King All Hail King Jesus So many horrific violations once caused me to turn away in shame and agony. I struggled to believe He could ever love someone like me. But ever patient and long-suffering, He knew I would make it through the darkest moments—the ones that blinded me to the truth. And the truth is this: no sin, no darkness, no prison within me could ever withstand the power of the Warrior King. His name is Jesus. To Him, and Him alone, I bend my knee and bow my head in reverent love and adoration. THANK YOU, JESUS!! I LOVE YOU! "And they overcam him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of thier testimony" Revelation 12:11 Darkness found me before I even had a chance to breath and raked me over the hot coals. Years I wandered broken and fractured, wondering if my existence was a form of torture I was slated to endure. Most days I didn't want to be alive. As a very young child and into adulthood I experienced levels of abuse many do not walk away from. It is only by the grace and mercy of God that I am here to share my story. I always wondered what purpose my life held, if any. I realize today, there was great purpose in every moment I endured. Good or bad. He used it all to shape me and form me into the woman I am today. No matter how hard I ran from The Father, He pursued me with ferocious unconditional love. Never taking His hand from me. The purpose of my life is to bring to light the darkness that tries to overtake many of us. To be blunt, I have survived human sex trafficking, pedophilia, incest, rape, physical, emotional, sexual, mental, and religious abuse, undiagnosed Lyme disease and Mono (EBV), severe undiagnosed depression and PTSD that lasted decades. I am a survivor of sex addiction, BDSM addiction, drug addiction, bulimia, and self-harm depression and PTSD. I harmed myself in many of the ways I had been abused, learning to associate pain with love and love with sex—never realizing it was okay to say no. I was conditioned to believe that “no” meant rejection, and I was groomed to accept abuse as a form of love. If I wasn’t in pain, I felt dead. These lies left deep fractures in my soul. My heart wandered, blind and broken, questioning if I could ever be loved—or if I was even allowed to be loved. The most difficult to survive and overcome has been the narcissistic abuse and gaslighting that accompanied many years of my life. It crippled my heart and mind and I was pushed to the brink of suicide more times than I can count. For those of us who have endured abuse—especially sexual abuse as children—our souls often fracture into countless pieces. The most beautiful parts of us splinter away. We bury ourselves in pits of nothingness, afraid to breathe without permission. We forget how to dream. We live for approval, seeking those who will control and manipulate us—because that is all we have ever known. Could I dream? Could I hope? Could I live? Or was I doomed to spend my life merely surviving? I was told I was “used goods,” unworthy of love, my existence a waste. Worthlessness, dread, and fear consumed me. At night, darkness stalked me. Death taunted me. Shackles tightened around my mind until I thought I would not survive. I never realized I was worthy of love and protection. I didn’t know what real love felt like, so I lived trapped in cycles of heartbreak and destruction—crippled by fear, and imprisoned by lies. For four decades, I lived this way. And yet, what took me years to discover was this: I was already loved. One day, while reading Psalm 139, I wept—not with agony, but with healing. For the first time, I could believe: I am loved. I am worthy of the birthright assigned to me before I ever existed. For the first time, I could breathe without fear. It is my birthright to be whole, to be healed, to be loved, and to be protected. I am His sacred beauty. And there is no hell, no darkness, no high water, that can undo what He has decreed over my life. The truth is, His love has always surrounded all of us—protecting the most beautiful parts of us. Even now, His love wraps around us, restoring dignity and sealing our eternal birthright as His beloved children. As Song of Songs 2:1–2 declares: “I am truly His rose, the very theme of His song. I am overshadowed by His love, growing in the valley. Yes, you are my darling companion. You stand out from all the rest. For though the curse of sin surrounds you, still you remain as pure as a lily, even more than all the rest.” Every lie I believed—every lie you have believed—He has already conquered. On the cross, Jesus triumphed over every shadow, every prison, every chain. Nothing can destroy what He has created for you. His love for you never fails. It is pure, intentional, unshakable. You are not forgotten. You are not too broken. You are not beyond His reach. The very breath in your lungs is proof that your story is not over. The God who knit you together has never let go of you—not for a single heartbeat. Every scar you carry, He sees. Every tear you’ve shed, He has caught. Every lie you’ve believed, He is silencing with the truth of His love. Step into that truth. Lift your head. Breathe deep. You are His Sacred Beauty—treasured, chosen, redeemed. And nothing—not even the darkest night—can steal the sunrise He has written for your life. Contact Me Today Please reach out with all prayer requests or if you just need to talk. r.galloso@sacrdbeauty.com

Sacred Beauty is an inspirational blog to help bring you to an understanding that you can be free from the prison within your mind; bringing you Out of Darkness Into His Marvelous Light Before the first star was set in the heavens, the Living God formed us in His own image. Planning our days and adventures according to His perfect will. With infinite care, He knit us together in the hidden places of His being (Psalm 139). We were conceived in love before we were ever conceived in flesh. But life has a way of trying to silence that truth. For me, the voices of abuse and shame twisted my understanding of worth. I grew up believing I was unseen, unloved, and only valuable as a commodity for a man’s desire. Those lies cut deep, and I carried them for many years. Yet even in my darkest nights, Jesus never left my side. He pulled me back from the edge of death more times than I can count. He guarded me when I could not guard myself, whispered my name when I thought I was forgotten, and drew me again and again out of the shadows into His marvelous light. Looking back, I can see His hand shielding me, protecting the most sacred parts of who I am. None of my story has been wasted. Every scar, every valley, and every tear has become a testimony of His relentless, merciful, and long-suffering love. The poems and posts I share here were born in those valleys—penned in my darkest moments when I felt His nearness most. They are glimpses into my journey, yes, but they are also more than that. Each poem is a reflection of His grace, a love letter not only to me, but to all of creation. My prayer is that as you read, you will hear His voice speaking to you—that you will see your own story wrapped in His mercy, and remember that His love is for you just as deeply as it is for me. There is no force in all creation more powerful than the love of Jesus, who gave His life for us. His sacrifice was not obligation—it was passion. We are His beloved, His treasure. And so I invite you into this space. Let Jesus still your racing thoughts. Let Him bind the broken pieces of your soul. Let Him reveal the truth your spirit has always known: You are, and have always been, His Sacred Beauty.