Ashley Abaie’s Coming Free is one of those rare memoirs that grips you from the first page and doesn’t let go, not because it promises fame or glamour, but because it offers something far more compelling—raw truth. It’s a journey through a life shaped by neglect, perseverance, and a relentless hunger to be seen. Ashley walks us through her childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood with stunning honesty, sharing stories of abuse, abandonment, cultural displacement, eating disorders, spiritual awakening, and ultimately, healing. It’s not neat. It’s not pretty. But it’s real. And that’s what makes it powerful.

I liked how Ashley captures the complicated, often contradictory emotions of growing up in a family that looked normal from the outside but was anything but. There’s a passage early on where she describes being forgotten in the snow for hours, wearing flip-flops, only to brush it off as a regular part of life. The way she recounts it—plainspoken, even a bit humorous—is heartbreaking. She doesn’t need to dramatize her pain. It’s just there, quietly devastating. And it’s in these small moments—dragging a bassoon case home alone in the snow, wearing fifth-grade underwear in high school, watching her brother spiral while trying to stay invisible—that I felt her loneliness, deep and aching.

The writing itself is conversational, poetic at times, but never pretentious. Ashley’s voice feels like a friend who’s finally decided to spill everything over a long coffee date. Her humor is dry, her observations sharp, and her emotions raw. When she writes about collapsing from malnutrition and basking in the rare moment of attention from her dad at a Mediterranean restaurant, it broke me. “I basked in my dad’s care,” she says. It’s such a simple line, but loaded with years of hunger—for food, yes, but more for love. I found myself rooting for her not just to survive, but to thrive. And when she finally begins to find that spark of purpose during a service trip in Mexico, it felt like breathing fresh air after being underwater.

What surprised me most was how she finds redemption not in the usual places, but in unexpected acts of service and spirituality. Her accidental dive into Christianity—after unknowingly signing up for a missionary trip—is both hilarious and oddly moving. She’s skeptical, awkward, and completely unprepared, yet open in a way that makes the experience feel authentic. Her reflections on mixing concrete, building homes, and connecting with strangers in a colonia in Reynosa are among the most touching parts of the book. She writes about laying cinderblocks like she’s laying the foundation for her own rebirth. And in those dusty streets, surrounded by poverty and purpose, she starts to heal in ways therapy hadn’t yet managed.

Coming Free isn’t tied up with a bow. Ashley doesn’t pretend to have it all figured out, and that’s what makes her voice so trustworthy. It’s a book for anyone who has felt invisible, who’s been through the fire and come out the other side unsure of what’s next. It’s especially powerful for those navigating childhood trauma, identity struggles, and the long road to self-worth.

Pages: 272 | ASIN : B0DRH75YLC