{"id":62514,"date":"2026-05-16T02:55:09","date_gmt":"2026-05-16T02:55:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514"},"modified":"2026-05-16T02:55:09","modified_gmt":"2026-05-16T02:55:09","slug":"youre-never-leaving-this-house-my-mother-screamed-violently-grabbing-my-hair-as-i-cowered-on-the-floor-my-father-towered-over-me-waving-the-blue-notebook-filled-with-proof-that-they-had-secret","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514","title":{"rendered":"You’re never leaving this house!” My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

Part 1<\/h2>\n

My name is Caroline Johansson.<\/h2>\n

For twenty-eight years, I lived inside an invisible prison built by my own parents. No house key. No private bank account. No future. But today, the horrifying web of lies finally shattered, throwing me into a fight for survival.<\/p>\n

Just fifteen minutes ago, I sneaked into my parents\u2019 office looking for tape. My mother\u2019s desk drawer, which was always locked, was strangely half-open today. Something told me to pull it open.<\/p>\n

At the very bottom was a blue notebook.<\/p>\n

The moment I opened it, the blood in my body turned ice cold.<\/p>\n

Every desperate attempt I had ever made to find a job\u2014from convenience stores to diners twenty miles away\u2014was documented in terrifying detail. Interview dates. Managers\u2019 names. And next to each entry was a bright red slash with my mother\u2019s careful handwriting:<\/p>\n

\u201cCalled pretending to be a neighbor.\u201d
\n\u201cReported fake criminal record.\u201d
\n\u201cSuccessfully ruined application.\u201d<\/p>\n

My hands shook so badly that I dropped the notebook onto the hardwood floor with a loud crack.<\/p>\n

\u201cCaroline?\u201d<\/p>\n

My father\u2019s heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Gerald walked into the room, and the fake warm smile he always wore disappeared instantly the moment he saw the notebook lying on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cW-What have you done?\u201d I stammered, backing toward the window. \u201cWhy would you call employers and lie about me? Was trapping me in this house not enough?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe were protecting you, Caroline,\u201d he said calmly as he stepped closer and locked the office door behind him. \u201cThe outside world is dangerous. You\u2019re not capable of surviving on your own.\u201d<\/p>\n

I tried to run for the door, but my mother was already standing there.<\/p>\n

Without hesitation, she grabbed my purse and dumped everything onto the floor. My phone. My wallet. My ID cards. She calmly gathered them into her arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you want the dangerous outside world so badly,\u201d she hissed while throwing a ten-dollar bill and two loose coins at my feet, \u201cthen go. But you won\u2019t take a single thing from this house.\u201d<\/p>\n

And just like that, I became homeless in less than five minutes.<\/p>\n

I ran through the rain to the nearest shelter. But the moment I stepped through the door, the shelter manager looked at me with disgust while clutching a ringing landline phone.<\/p>\n

The voice on the other end sounded terrifyingly familiar.<\/p>\n

After my own parents stripped away everything I had and destroyed my reputation with horrifying lies, I thought my life had ended at that homeless shelter. But then a mysterious stranger appeared with a ten-year-old secret that was about to change everything forever.<\/p>\n

The rest of the story is below \ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n

\n

Part 2<\/h1>\n

\u201cYou need to leave immediately,\u201d the shelter manager ordered coldly as she slammed the phone back onto its receiver.<\/p>\n

I stood there in shock, rainwater still dripping from my soaked hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Why? I just got here asking for help!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA social worker just called us,\u201d she said nervously while reaching toward the emergency whistle on her desk. \u201cShe warned us that you have violent tendencies, that you assaulted family members, and that you\u2019re a danger to the community. We cannot house someone like you here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Despair tightened around my throat.<\/p>\n

My mother.<\/p>\n

She was doing it again.<\/p>\n

My parents didn\u2019t just want me to come home. They wanted to completely destroy my spirit, isolate me from everyone, and force me to crawl back begging for mercy.<\/p>\n

I tried to explain through tears, but the manager only pointed toward the door.<\/p>\n

If it hadn\u2019t been for an older volunteer with a kind heart stepping in, I would have been thrown back out into the storm. Instead, they allowed me to sleep in a tiny storage room separated from the other residents.<\/p>\n

But the nightmare was only beginning.<\/p>\n

A few days later, I wandered into the town library to use the internet and figure out how to replace my documents. The moment I logged online, I froze.<\/p>\n

A livestream from the town council meeting filled the screen.<\/p>\n

Standing at the podium was my father, Gerald, performing the role of a heartbroken parent perfectly. With tears in his eyes, he told the entire town that I had stolen the family savings, become addicted to drugs, and run away from home. He even held up fake police reports in front of the cameras as \u201cproof.\u201d<\/p>\n

The entire town\u2014people who had watched me grow up\u2014began flooding the comment section with insults, calling me a disgrace and a criminal.<\/p>\n

My parents had successfully blocked every escape route.<\/p>\n

Nobody would hire me.
\nNobody would help me.<\/p>\n

I was cornered, completely alone, and emotionally shattered.<\/p>\n

That evening, I sat trembling on the back steps of the shelter staring at the wrinkled twelve dollars still clutched in my hand.<\/p>\n

I was exhausted.<\/p>\n

Maybe I should just give up.
\nMaybe I really was born to remain their prisoner forever.<\/p>\n

Just as I stood up to surrender and go back home, an older woman in a gray overcoat approached and quietly sat beside me.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you Caroline Johansson?\u201d she asked gently while handing me a cup of hot coffee.<\/p>\n

I immediately pulled away. \u201cWho are you? If my parents sent you, tell them I\u2019d rather starve out here.\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman smiled calmly, but there was something sharp and intelligent behind her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Ruth Kalen,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m a private investigator. And I do not work for your parents.\u201d<\/p>\n

I frowned in confusion.<\/p>\n

\u201cI work for your grandmother Maggie.\u201d<\/p>\n

I froze.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy grandmother? She died ten years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Ruth nodded while placing a large black leather briefcase onto my lap. \u201cYour grandmother was an extremely intelligent woman. Before she passed away, she saw the cruelty and controlling nature of her son Gerald very clearly. She knew that once she was gone, your parents would imprison and destroy your future.\u201d<\/p>\n

My hands trembled as Ruth unlocked the briefcase.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the last ten years, I\u2019ve been collecting evidence,\u201d she explained.<\/p>\n

She pointed toward thick folders inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese are recordings of thirty-seven phone calls your mother made to sabotage your job opportunities. These files trace the IP addresses proving your father created fake police emails to spread lies about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she pulled out another document stamped heavily with official bank seals.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd most importantly,\u201d she said softly, \u201cyour grandmother created a secret trust fund worth three hundred and forty thousand dollars. It was locked until the day you finally chose to leave that house.\u201d<\/p>\n

She slid the documents into my hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s time to fight back, Caroline.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t alone.<\/p>\n

Even from beyond the grave, my grandmother had created a perfect plan to save me.<\/p>\n

As I stared at the undeniable evidence in my hands, every ounce of fear inside me disappeared, replaced by a raging fire of fury.<\/p>\n

It was finally time for the people who imprisoned me to pay for what they had done.<\/p>\n

\n

If you’ve read this far, don’t hesitate to leave a like and comment before reading Part 3. It makes us just as happy as finishing a great story ourselves. Thank you! \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n

\n

Part 3<\/h1>\n

The very next morning, with Ruth Kalen\u2019s support and full access to my grandmother\u2019s trust fund, I walked into the office of one of the top civil litigation attorneys in the state wearing the nicest shirt I owned.<\/p>\n

As the lawyer reviewed the recordings and digital evidence, his eyes sharpened immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey destroyed your reputation and illegally interfered with your employment opportunities,\u201d he said firmly while tapping the files on his desk. \u201cWe\u2019re going to sue them for defamation and unlawful interference. And we are going to destroy their case.\u201d<\/p>\n

The legal battle exploded through our small town like a hurricane.<\/p>\n

At first, my parents were unbelievably arrogant. They hired a cheap attorney and assumed their authority as \u201cparents\u201d and their carefully crafted reputation would easily crush their disobedient daughter.<\/p>\n

They were wrong.<\/p>\n

Inside the public courtroom, recordings of my mother making vicious fake calls to employers echoed through the speakers. Documents proving my father had forged police reports were displayed directly in front of the jury.<\/p>\n

The same townspeople who once insulted me online now sat in stunned silence, their faces pale with horror and disgust.<\/p>\n

The image of the \u201cperfect family\u201d was completely destroyed.<\/p>\n

My parents sat trembling at the defense table, realizing for the first time that they had lost control forever.<\/p>\n

Then the final verdict came down like a death sentence.<\/p>\n

I won.<\/p>\n

The court ordered my parents to pay me eighty-five thousand dollars in damages.<\/p>\n

But their cruelty and arrogance still poisoned them to the very end.<\/p>\n

My father refused to pay. He swore he would never give me a single cent.<\/p>\n

That became his final catastrophic mistake.<\/p>\n

My attorney immediately filed for property seizure, and the local sheriff personally placed foreclosure notices on the very house where I had been trapped for twenty-eight years.<\/p>\n

My parents were forced to sell the home at auction to cover the judgment.<\/p>\n

Their fake perfect life collapsed overnight.<\/p>\n

Humiliated and unable to face the disgust of their neighbors anymore, they packed up what little they had left and moved into a miserable trailer park on the outskirts of town.<\/p>\n

As for me, the settlement money and my grandmother\u2019s trust fund finally gave me true freedom.<\/p>\n

I moved to a new city where nobody knew my past.<\/p>\n

For the first time in my life, job interviews became easy because nobody was secretly sabotaging me anymore. Today, I work as a senior office assistant with a salary I once thought was impossible. I rent a bright apartment filled with sunlight, drive a reliable used car, and recently adopted a golden tabby cat named Daisy.<\/p>\n

For the first time in twenty-eight years, I held the keys to my own home in my own hands.<\/p>\n

A few weeks ago, I received a letter in the mail.<\/p>\n

It was from my mother.<\/p>\n

Inside was a shallow apology mixed with complaints about how difficult life had become in the trailer park. She begged me to forgive them so \u201cthe family could reunite.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled quietly, fed the letter into my paper shredder, and walked away.<\/p>\n

The boundary had finally been drawn.
\nAnd this time, it would never be broken again.<\/p>\n

After surviving everything, I learned one powerful truth:<\/p>\n

Wanting independence and freedom is never selfish.<\/p>\n

It is survival.<\/p>\n

Real love\u2014the kind my grandmother Maggie gave me\u2014is the kind that sets you free and allows you to choose your own life.<\/p>\n

Anyone who claims to \u201cprotect\u201d you while stealing your freedom, controlling your future, and trapping you in fear is not offering love.<\/p>\n

They are building a prison.<\/p>\n

And I, Caroline Johansson, finally escaped mine.<\/p>\n

\n

What do you think of this story? Please leave a like and share your thoughts in the comments. Your support means a lot to us and inspires us to keep writing more meaningful and emotional stories. Thank you! \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 My name is Caroline Johansson. For twenty-eight years, I lived inside an invisible prison built by my own parents. No house key. No private bank account. No future. But today, the horrifying web of lies finally shattered, throwing me into a fight for survival. Just fifteen minutes ago, I sneaked into my parents\u2019 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":62528,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-62514","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\nYou're never leaving this house!" My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"You're never leaving this house!" My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 My name is Caroline Johansson. For twenty-eight years, I lived inside an invisible prison built by my own parents. No house key. No private bank account. No future. But today, the horrifying web of lies finally shattered, throwing me into a fight for survival. Just fifteen minutes ago, I sneaked into my parents\u2019 […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-05-16T02:55:09+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"9 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514\",\"name\":\"You're never leaving this house!\\\" My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-05-16T02:55:09+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"You’re never leaving this house!” My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\",\"name\":\"Phong Nguyen\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Phong Nguyen\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"You're never leaving this house!\" My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"You're never leaving this house!\" My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 My name is Caroline Johansson. For twenty-eight years, I lived inside an invisible prison built by my own parents. No house key. No private bank account. No future. But today, the horrifying web of lies finally shattered, throwing me into a fight for survival. Just fifteen minutes ago, I sneaked into my parents\u2019 […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-05-16T02:55:09+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Phong Nguyen","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Phong Nguyen","Est. reading time":"9 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514","name":"You're never leaving this house!\" My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg","datePublished":"2026-05-16T02:55:09+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ChatGPT-Image-09_45_15-16-thg-5-2026.jpg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62514#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"You’re never leaving this house!” My mother screamed, violently grabbing my hair as I cowered on the floor. My father towered over me, waving the blue notebook filled with proof that they had secretly ruined every job I ever applied for. I was bleeding, but my real nightmare had just begun"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62514","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=62514"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62514\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":62531,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62514\/revisions\/62531"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/62528"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=62514"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=62514"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=62514"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}