Once I Was a Hoe (Yes, I’ll Admit It)

On growth, grace, and the courage to be seen for who we are now

“Messiness isn’t failure, it’s a sign you’re building something new from the rubble.”

There’s a soundbite floating around on TikTok, maybe you’ve heard it, maybe you haven’t. It starts with:

“Once I was a hoe, yes I’ll admit it…” By Mariahlynn Once Upon a Time; Released on: 2022-02-15

It’s playful. Users pair it with glow-up videos, before-and-after snapshots showing how far they’ve come in life, love, and self-respect. For many, it’s a tongue-in-cheek way to own their messy, wild pasts without shame, while celebrating who they’ve become.

I know not everyone spends hours scrolling TikTok. So here’s the context: this isn’t about shaming sexuality or finger-wagging at youthful exploration. It’s about laughing, admitting, and saying, “Yeah, I was that person once, but I’m not anymore.”

And let’s be honest: whether we were literal “hoes,” emotional wrecks, commitment-phobes, or just humans making questionable choices, we all have a before.

This is mine.

🪞 Before the Collar, Before the PhD

I wasn’t born wrapped in a clerical collar or armed with clinical insight. I came up in the queer community, bars, hookups, late-night dance floors where the music was loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. Back then, I wore my pain like cologne, strong, lingering, designed to mask fear.

Part of that mess came from leaving behind a high-control religious environment and the emotional abuse of my narcissistic stepfather. I was deconstructing not just my faith but my entire sense of self. When you’ve spent years in systems that demand perfection, silence your questions, and crush your autonomy, it’s no wonder life feels like free fall when you finally break away. For a while, I mistook freedom for chaos. And honestly? That’s normal. Messiness isn’t failure, it’s a sign you’re building something new from the rubble.

“Growth isn’t linear. It’s a thousand quiet decisions, failures, and do-overs.”

It wasn’t all bad. There was joy, discovery, and chosen family in those years. But I also burned through connections. I confused intimacy with attention. I confused love with validation. And in some ways, those habits didn’t disappear overnight when I met my spouse, or even when I said yes to God’s call. Growth is rarely instantaneous.

Six-teen years into my relationship, ten years into marriage, I’m still confronted with echoes of that past, not because I’m still that man, but because the past can cast a long shadow in a marriage.

And here’s the hard truth: the hardest person to convince you’ve changed? Often yourself.

🧠 Why We Struggle to See Growth (Even in Ourselves)

As a clinical psychologist, I see this dynamic all the time. People come into therapy ready to change, but the people around them are stuck relating to their former selves. It’s painful. It’s discouraging. But it’s also very human.

🗂 Consistency Bias

Our brains crave predictability. Once we’ve filed someone under “unreliable” or “player” or “selfish,” we rarely update that mental file without intentional effort. Even when they show new behaviors, part of us whispers, Is it real? Or just temporary?

🔍 Confirmation Bias

We’re wired to notice what confirms our beliefs. If you think your spouse is still “that person,” you’ll zero in on any slip-up and overlook their efforts.

🩹 Trust Trauma

When trust has been broken, even slightly, it’s natural to guard yourself. You don’t want to feel foolish for believing too soon. But living in that guarded state too long can suffocate the possibility of real intimacy.

🧬 Relationship Patterns

Relationships create neural pathways, habits of response and expectation. Even after someone changes, it takes time (and evidence) for our brains and hearts to recognize and trust the new dynamic.

“So if you’ve ever thought, ‘They’re doing better, but I don’t know if it’ll last,’ you’re not alone.”

❤️ The Spiritual Work of Seeing Anew

Saint Benedict wrote, “Always we begin again.”

It isn’t just poetic, it’s practical. Growth isn’t linear. Conversion (metanoia) isn’t one grand moment of awakening. It’s a thousand quiet decisions, failures, and do-overs.

When I think about my own past, the messy, the beautiful, the regrettable, I don’t hear condemnation. I hear what Jesus said to Peter after his denials:

“Do you love me? Feed my sheep.”

Not: “Explain yourself.”Not: “Prove you’ve changed.”Just: “Start here. Begin again.”

🔥 This Isn’t Just About Me

You don’t have to wear a collar, hold a psychology or theology degree, or carry a complicated past for this to hit home.

Maybe it’s your spouse who’s grown, but you still catch yourself reacting to who they were ten years ago.Maybe it’s your adult child rebuilding their life after addiction, and part of you can’t stop scanning for signs of relapse.Maybe it’s a friend or sibling rethinking old political or cultural beliefs, and you’re not sure if their awakening is real or performative.

Or maybe… it’s you.Maybe you’re still punishing yourself for who you used to be, holding your own progress hostage to a story that’s no longer true.

🕊 A Call to Grace (For You and Them)

Growth isn’t perfect. It’s awkward. Sometimes we relapse into old habits. Sometimes the people we’ve hurt don’t believe us when we say we’ve changed.

But we keep becoming.

“What if we stopped chaining people, and ourselves, to their worst moments?”

What if we dared to believe in resurrection, not just on Easter, but in the messy, everyday lives we’re all trying to live?

✨ A Benediction for the Becoming

May you have the courage to leave old stories behind, the ones you wrote about yourself,and the ones others still read aloud.

May you meet your spouse, your child, your friend,as they are today, not as they were.

May you believe in growth,not just in theory,but in the stubborn, quiet, daily work of it.

And may you remember:you are not your worst moment.You are not your old mistakes.You are not the person you outgrew.

You are becoming. Always.

📌 Closing Note

So yes: once I was a hoe. I’ll admit it.But now I’m a husband. A priest. A psychologist. A whole new man. And tomorrow? I’ll be someone else again. Because that’s the gift of being alive:We’re never finished.