I was born into a scene of chaos. My mother’s side of the story was, “You knew you were coming into a life of pain! They had to rip you out of me. It was like you were having a fight with my ribs.” Others say it was the drugs.  

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Three days after I was born, I was placed into the system. At just three days old, I had a record. My family named me Mystiedawn. Everyone has their own version of its meaning and why I was named “who” I was. 

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I was taken from my grandmother when I was one. She had raised me for my first year. I was taken because my mom’s crack pipe burned the curtains, which burned the family duplex down. I was put into in-home foster care to stay with my sister from the ages of two to thirteen. 

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My time spent with her was like a female version of the book A Child Called It. If you don’t know that one, basically, my life with her was like Cinderella’s—except my fairy tale came with a spectrum of trauma and abuse. My sister was a functioning drug addict just like my mom. The only difference was that my mom lived and worked the streets of Figaro in Los Angeles, California. 

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No matter what part of my life I was in, I would—and did—run away to L.A. to see her. I found her every time. This created my love for forensic investigation and social and behavioral science. The repercussions of finding my mom, however, came at a great price. My abusers were the ones who often assisted me in finding her. 

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My first memory of living with my oldest sister was at three years old. I was sitting between a man’s legs while he forced me to let him put pink ribbons in my hair. To this day, I hate pink. That man—and whoever else he invited—spent the next ten years leveraging my desire to see my mom in exchange for sexual acts. 

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Some summers, I sat on the church stairs on 53rd and Western, waiting for it to be my mom’s turn to sneak away and see me. Most days, she never came. I knew she probably wouldn’t, but I still chose to sit and play for hours on the corner of 53rd and Western. If I didn’t stay outside, I would have been taken into a hidden basement at the back of my abusers’ tattoo shop. 

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I was eventually transferred to out-of-home care and relocated to Santa Ana, California. But it was no good deed. My social worker placed me there as a punishment when she found out I had told my school my story. What followed was a shift from Cinderella to Matilda. 

When I was fifteen, I tried to end my life after being mute for a long time. Only then did people begin to listen to my story. I was placed in over 10 foster homes and attended even more schools—mostly because of my trauma and mental health challenges. 

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But one person treated me as a peer and provided me with resources I didn’t know I needed. Because of them, I was able to finish high school and leave the system on my 17th birthday. 

Since then, I’ve walked through almost every valley of hell imaginable for someone diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder at age 36. I like to say I’ve “mastered the f***-ups” of my diagnosis. What I mean is that I’ve learned the skills to get myself out of the f***-ups” caused by it. 

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My mother has since passed a recovered addict. Her recovery is the same age as my daughter. She left me with a warrior mentality that gave me the strength to successfully raise an HBCU junior and become a doctor of spiritual healing, with over 37 certifications specializing in social and behavioral science, Personality evaluations, Eastern philosophy, Western psychology, and metaphysical healing. Most importantly, my mother—then and now—has helped me find my own path and the purpose behind my name. 

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Here it is: 

My name, Mystiedawn, combines the spiritual essence of mystery and awakening. Mystie evokes intention, depth, and connection to the unseen, while Dawn symbolizes new beginnings, hope, and spiritual illumination. Together, my name reflects a soul on a journey of transformation, bridging the mysteries of the unseen with the clarity and light of higher awareness. It embodies growth, renewal, and the pursuit of spiritual truth. 

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I hope your journey awakens the warrior within you. ~ Coach Dawn