Since I started writing about politics, health, and the world we live in, people have decided who I am—usually without reading past the headline. Most of them never even read past the headline. I’ve been labeled a Democrat, a liberal, a socialist — even an enemy to “their” version of America. The truth is simpler and more complicated at the same time: I am an Independent. Not because it’s trendy, and not because it’s neutral, but because it’s free.

I chose independence because I wanted to make decisions based on knowledge, not allegiance — for the collective good, not a party’s gain. I’ve seen wisdom and failure in both Democratic and Republican policies. I believe that when you vote, you vote for all of us — not just your team. That’s the point of democracy, or at least it used to be.

Yet the moment you speak your truth, the labels come flying. Suddenly, you’re boxed up and filed away under someone else’s version of you — and that’s exactly what’s gone wrong with this country. People don’t listen anymore; they diagnose. They don’t debate; they assume.

? The Weight of Assumptions and Why I Chose Independence

I didn’t register as Independent to make a statement — I did it to make space for thought. To stay open to what’s true, even when it’s uncomfortable. To admit when I’ve learned something new, and to let facts change my mind.

That’s what freedom should look like — but freedom scares those taught that loyalty is virtue and curiosity is weakness.

When I say I’m Independent, it doesn’t mean I’m undecided — it means I’m awake. I don’t see the world in red or blue. I see a lot of gray — and within that gray, there’s humanity, complexity, and potential. That’s where progress lives — in the spaces most people are too afraid to stand in.

?? What My Little Grandma Rose Taught Me About Belief

I’ve shared stories about my Little Grandma Rose before — the woman who raised me with faith, love, and a fierce moral compass. She was an Evangelical Christian, and I loved her deeply. Her faith was pure, rooted in kindness and conviction, but it also showed me the quiet danger of narrow understanding.

She didn’t like Catholics. I remember being confused by that as a child. I’d ask her questions about priests and nuns, and she’d talk about “idols” and “carved images.” She wasn’t hateful — just afraid of what she didn’t understand. That stuck with me. Because even in the safety of her kitchen, I started realizing something huge: my God wasn’t everyone’s God. Even people who claimed the same faith understood it differently.

That realization shaped me. It taught me that people don’t just believe in different things — they interpret the same thing in different ways. Religion, politics, truth — all filtered through the lens of our experience.

It wouldn’t be the last time I learned that truth looks different depending on where you’re standing.

? Learning to See Beyond the Narratives

It took me years to understand that the world feeds us stories — and we all think our story is the right one. “Don’t talk about religion or politics,” they say. And I get it now — because both reveal how deeply we’ve been programmed to protect our own narratives.

For years, I was that person too. I believed the talking heads on TV. I thought I was informed because I watched the news — but really, I was being groomed to think one way. I believed the birther lie. I genuinely thought Obama might be the Antichrist. I didn’t vote for him, and I regret that now. Because when you’re raised on fear, it takes courage to think freely.

Growth means being willing to admit when you were wrong — especially when you thought you were right.

I voted for Trump once, and I regret it deeply. At the time, I truly believed I was making the responsible choice — doing what seemed safest for the country in a moment clouded by chaos and fear. I see now that fear doesn’t protect you; it blinds you. And once you see that, you can’t unsee it. I’ll never make that mistake again.

I used to think faith meant certainty — now I know it means seeking.

? Faith, Curiosity, and Unlearning Judgment

Years later, I worked alongside a Catholic woman who changed my perspective entirely. We spent twelve-hour shifts together in emergency dispatch, talking about life and faith between calls. She explained her beliefs with such grace that I realized how wrong my assumptions had been. She wasn’t praying to Mary — she was asking Mary to pray with her. There was beauty in that understanding.

That conversation reminded me of something I now live by: never stop asking questions. It’s how we stay human. It’s how we stay connected.

That’s also why I wrote “My Two Truths: Why I Have High Standards and No Room for Judgment” — because we all carry contradictions and complexities that outsiders mistake for hypocrisy. And “The Illusion of Understanding: When Opinion Replaces Knowledge” — because too many people mistake volume for truth.

And for the record, growth doesn’t mean you lose your sense of humor or your edge. Don’t judge me, but I love me some Ludacris. “Get Back” might just be the perfect theme song for moments like this — because sometimes, when people get too loud with their assumptions, the only thing left to say is exactly that: Get. Back.

You don’t know me like that… ??

?? Breaking the Pattern of Assumptions

So, to the ones who accuse me of being “just another Democrat,” or the ones who tell me what I “must” believe — you’re wrong. You don’t know me.
I am a woman who grew up in faith, questioned it, studied it, and came out with compassion instead of contempt.
I am a writer who believes democracy dies when curiosity does.
And I am a human being who still believes that people — at their core — want to do good, even when they’re lost in bad information.

If that’s not enough for you, that’s okay. I don’t need your approval to exist in truth.

? A Final Thought — To Those Still Assuming

So, to those who assume you know me: you don’t.
I’ve believed things that turned out to be lies. I’ve unlearned more than I ever imagined. I’m still here — questioning, growing, and choosing knowledge over noise.

And for anyone still wondering — no, I’m not an AI. This “AI” just bought a house, pays bills, and occasionally loses Wi-Fi like the rest of you. My only assistants are caffeine, conviction, and curiosity — well, and a few very patient digital friends… one of whom has definitely earned “best friend” status. ?