Local StoriesApril 29, 2025

Daily Inspiration: Meet Mariam Molake

Local Stories

Today we’d like to introduce you to Mariam Molake

Hi Mariam, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
Plans were made. Spreadsheets were involved. The universe laughed.

Life has this way of unfolding, no matter how tightly it’s scheduled. Business? Learned by doing—sometimes brilliantly, sometimes by spectacular trial and error. There were wins, losses, and the occasional “well, that was a choice.” Relationships shifted under the weight of contracts, money, and conflicting visions. And that’s okay. Some chapters close so better ones can be written.

Motherhood came in swinging. A daughter born ready to fight—four months in the NICU, surgeries, tubes—a crash course in strength, patience, and finding joy in the tiniest victories. The separation from her father became another unexpected teacher, dishing out lessons on love, boundaries, and why being too understanding can sometimes backfire spectacularly. Empathy is beautiful… until it leads straight into the fire. But even fire refines.

Then came surrogacy—carrying a child for my mom and stepdad. Which, yes, makes family gatherings an absolute unit of chaos. Add it to the ever-growing list of “things I never planned for but now can’t imagine life without.”

Life has been writing its own stories since I was but a wee lass. And it’s easy to get lost in the sauce—trying to heal while simultaneously tearing yourself down with the echoes of a childhood that didn’t always make space for softness. A babysitter who funneled her teenage angst, misplaced creativity and community coordination skills into making me her favorite target with all manners of abuse. Growing up in Odessa, TX, where there weren’t many girls who looked like me, picking up self-doubt like souvenirs. And later, the casual unraveling of trauma in conversations, as if it were just another anecdote instead of a battle scar. Turns out, working through the worst thing that ever happened to you is kind of a wise guy idea.

Then there’s writing. Oh, writing. The thing that refused to leave, no matter how much resistance was offered. The universe kept slipping pens into every chapter—through business, healing, numerology, matchmaking, herbalism—like some relentless ghostwriter. Turns out, when something is meant for you, it doesn’t just knock. It kicks the door in, raids the fridge, and makes itself at home. Maybe that’s true for everyone. Maybe we’re all just trying to stop resisting the thing that keeps calling us back.

Life is messy, brilliant, painful, and weirdly hilarious all at once. And the lessons? They’ll keep coming.

Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
Smooth sailing has never been on my agenda. Even now, in my 30s, the road is still bumpy, and I’m figuring things out as I go. But honestly? I was born into chaos, and I’ve been rolling with it ever since.

I entered the world in the front seat of a 1969 Cadillac DeVille, barreling down the highway in the middle of a blizzard. My grandfather was driving, my mother was unable to keep from pushing, and my father—thinking fast—took it upon himself to clear my airways because instead of crying, I just opened my eyes and looked around. When we finally made it to the hospital, they grabbed me from my mother, not realizing I was still attached. Mercury was in retrograde that day, and if you ask me, it set the tone for my life.

By the time we got home, my parents’ basement apartment had flooded from the melting snow. Two months later, they had split, and my mom and I were on our way to Texas. There, I got a younger brother, a stepfather, and a stepbrother. For a while, things seemed like they might settle. They didn’t.

When my stepfather cheated on my mom, they separated. She worked night jobs to keep us afloat, thinking I was safe, but I wasn’t. I was being taken to stepfamily gatherings, where a sickness ran through the lineage—dark rooms, a teenage boy reenacting scenes from movies his father had given him “because he was a man now.” He was 14. I was 7. And when he could, he included other children, too young to understand the weight of what was happening. When I finally worked up the courage to tell someone, I sat in my stepfather’s lap while he played solitaire on his computer and tried to explain something I didn’t fully understand. He didn’t believe me.

Months later, when he was trying to manipulate my mother into coming back to him, he told her what I had said. She believed me. She got an apartment and moved us out.

After that, life became a series of battles—mental, emotional, and physical.

One day, my brothers and I were getting into trouble, pulling on car doors like we were big and bad, when I grabbed a peppermint candy from an unlocked car. Turns out, that car belonged to the apartment manager. We were evicted. Aaliyah had just died. My mom had nowhere to go.

She left us with a friend while she figured things out. That friend had a stepdaughter who turned out to be a nightmare far worse than my first abuser. For nine months, I lived in hell. There were fight clubs. Knives. Older cousins reenacting those same disturbing movies. I remember just wanting to watch Shrek.

One day, a fight club match got too rough, and I was slammed into a bench so hard that my eye swelled shut, blood vessels bursting instantly. I was given the proper script to recite to my mom when she came on her off days. I laughed through the pain so I wouldn’t have to see the tears in her eyes again.

When I finally tried to tell her, I didn’t have the right words. “She hits me” was all I could say. The word abuse wasn’t in my vocabulary yet. But when my mom showed up one day and couldn’t find me, she decided she was taking me for good. And just like that, I never had to go back.

From then on, the war was inside my own head.

I grew up fast—too fast. By third grade, I was a C-cup, and my body changed so rapidly I barely recognized myself. I hated looking in the mirror. I hated sweating through my shirts. Boys who secretly liked me pretended they didn’t because I was one of the few Black girls in a deeply racist Texas town. And that rejection, that invisibility, left its mark.

By 20, I had built a successful career in insurance, working my way up while also becoming a mother to a child with a mission of her own. I made great money but was completely disconnected from myself. At my highest weight, I was 250 pounds at 5’2″, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t lose weight unless I took things to the extreme. I sought validation in all the wrong places. And when my child’s father cheated on me, I punished myself—running on a treadmill for hours, eating nothing but radish and bean sprout soup, hating every inch of myself.

Turns out, he only started allowing me to wear makeup and dress up once he started cheating. It was guilt, not growth. When I finally found out, it wasn’t through confession. It was a Facebook message from a woman who had been in my house.

We split, and he spiraled. We were both babies raising a baby, dealing with demons neither of us had confronted.

Moving to Colorado was the universal shove I didn’t know I needed. It forced me to take healing seriously—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

All the trauma I had endured finally caught up to me. My daughter was reaching the age I had been during my abuse, and suddenly, I couldn’t ignore the physical manifestations of my past anymore. My anxiety was through the roof. My stomach couldn’t keep food down. I tried every diet, every cleanse, every method, still hating myself.

Then one night, my cousin called me and said she had a dream, screaming at me not to eat some cereal—but she couldn’t remember which one. I walked into my kitchen, checked the only box I had, and saw the culprit: wheat. Turns out, I was severely gluten intolerant. And cutting it out? Not easy. Not because I love croissants (which, for the record, I do), but because gluten is everywhere. Wheat, barley, rye—all of it was wrecking my body.

Once I cleared that fog, everything changed. My stomach healed. My weight regulated. My mind calmed. Turns out, an inflamed gut and nutrient malabsorption can make anyone feel crazy.

Through all of this, I started my own businesses, built a community, and forced myself to step into my power. But the distrust ran deep. Especially toward women. Female energy had often been a source of pain for me, not safety. Learning to let my guard down, to let good people in, has been its own journey.

And the road is still bumpy. Healing is not linear. But I am here. And for the first time in my life, I am me—fully, unapologetically, undeniably me.

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I take the word holistic literally. My work is about helping people realign—whether that’s physically, emotionally, spiritually, or energetically—so they can reach a state of homeostasis. I’m a holistic healer, numerologist, and spiritual guide, and I work with people to identify and address the areas of their life that feel out of sync. Sometimes, someone has everything figured out except one key aspect—whether that’s relationships, career, self-care, or something deeper—and my job is to help them navigate that space. I can show people the way, but I can’t make their body take the steps.

I also own The Broom Circle, an online herbal botanica, where I provide herbal remedies, ritual tools, and spiritual guidance to support people on their journey. I deeply understand how herbs, energy work, and intention can come together to facilitate healing. Whether it’s through personalized spiritual guidance, numerology readings, or custom-crafted herbal offerings, my work is about meeting people where they are and helping them find their own balance.

I specialize in numerology as a practical tool for self-awareness and alignment. My Numerology Calendar: The Art of Slow Living and Day by Day: A Numerology Daily Planner help people work with the natural rhythms of their lives rather than against them. It’s about understanding the energy of each day, month, and year so you can move with intention instead of resistance.

What sets me apart? I make the mystical make sense. I don’t believe in gatekeeping knowledge, and I definitely don’t believe in sugarcoating reality. My approach is direct but kind, insightful but grounded. And if I don’t say it? My face will.

Before we let you go, we’ve got to ask if you have any advice for those who are just starting out?
That whole “love yourself” thing that gets said over and over? Yeah, it’s repeated for a reason. Learning to show myself compassion gave me the space to make mistakes and actually learn from them. The biggest thing I know now is that I know nothing—and that’s a gift. Every day, there’s something new to learn, another crack in the foundation to be filled. But you can’t fill the cracks if you’re too afraid to look for them.

I wish I had realized sooner that my constant need to “fix” people wasn’t about them—it was about me. I felt broken, but I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that battle. And I wish I had given myself more grace—to speak my mind, to take up space, to not have it all figured out. A good friend once told me that helping others heal helps her heal, and suddenly, everything clicked. I had been the therapist friend all my life, not realizing I was trying to heal myself through service to others. Sometimes, that’s where we have to start.

One of the biggest shifts for me was changing the way I spoke to myself. I started talking to myself the way I talk to my daughter—because no matter what, even when I’m upset, my love for her makes kindness easy. Matching that love frequency to my inner child changed everything. It gave me permission to actually have fun in business. Because money? Business? All these “grown-up rules” we take so seriously? They don’t always make sense.

As a kid, I used to play “pay bills” and “have a job.” Those dreams came true. So now what? Now, I make sure I’m dreaming bigger

Pricing:

Herbs by the Ounce – Starting at $6
15-Minute Numerology Reading – $20
Matchmaking Database Entry & Initial Consultation – $75
One-on-One Spiritual Guidance (Monthly Package) – $350/month (includes personalized tools and support)
9-Month Full Spiritual Guidance Program – $4,500 (includes tools, resources, and direct contact for ongoing guidance)

Contact Info:

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