✧ my love letter to yeshua hamashiac the author of the hebrew alphabet ✧
Heal your soul with music 🎵
The Beginning — Who I Am
A name carries a story. I was Elexsis Townsend, then Wilson, then Anderson, then McCarthy, then Perkins, then Caliskan — and now, spiritually, Eve Yeshuas Bride.
I was born on May 23, 1984, in Aberdeen, Washington — a small logging town shaped by hard work, hard weather, and generational pain that seemed to live in the air. I came into the world as a child of two parents carrying their own brokenness and addiction. My father was largely absent. My childhood was marked by instability, loss, and an early goodbye to innocence.
I grew up too fast. Like so many children who learn to survive before they learn to be held, I spent my teenage years and early adulthood searching for love, belonging, and identity in all the wrong places. I was trying to become someone before I had been allowed to simply be someone.
On the outside, my life began to take shape. I built, created, and founded — becoming an entrepreneur and brand founder with a life that looked polished from a distance. But behind the success was a private pain no one could see, a quiet ache carried beneath the surface of achievement.
I wrote a song about it 🎵
My love for music started in the PNW circa de 99' rave scene. 🎵
There are chapters of my life I do not tell lightly. I speak of them now because silence was never the same thing as healing, and because the truth, once carried with honesty, can become sacred.
My early years were marked by abuse and exploitation I did not choose, and by the slow blur of drugs and alcohol that I used to numb what I did not know how to name. I grew up inside chaos — a blended, shifting household, siblings coming and going, love mixed with instability, and a kind of noise that makes it hard to hear your own soul.
I became a mother young. I entered marriage with my first husband and learned, over time, what it feels like to disappear while still standing in the room. It was controlling. It was isolating. It asked me to become someone I was not, to perform a life that looked intact from the outside while I carried private grief behind a public smile.
My time in Christianity
My entire life, I battled an eating disorder, alcoholism, & sex addiction. If you could be addicted to it, I was. I lived with the ache of feeling unseen and unheard, even when I was surrounded by people. I learned how to make myself smaller in every possible way, as if shrinking might make the pain easier to survive.
And still, I built. I poured myself into a beauty brand and grew it into a multimillion-dollar company The Original MakeUp Eraser. On paper, it looked like triumph. In reality, it was often loneliness dressed as success — family orbiting what I provided, not who I was. I was needed for my output, my strength, my ability to keep going. But I was starving for tenderness.
During that season, my first husband pursued his political run, and I found myself funding it, propping it up, and keeping the whole machine moving. Looking back through the lens of my growing faith, I can see how clearly I had become a slave to money and to that ambition — my worth measured by what I could provide, what I could fund, what I could hold together. Christianity was already showing me the truth before I fully surrendered to it: that I had built a golden cage and called it a good life.
As my first marriage unraveled, so did I. There were years of self-destruction, drinking, and the heartbreak of becoming estranged from my children as I fought to leave the life I had been trapped inside. It was one of the darkest seasons I have ever lived through — not because I stopped loving, but because I loved through collapse.
At my lowest point, I stood at the edge of myself and contemplated ending my life. In the middle of that breakdown, I heard what I believed was the voice of God say, “Hurry up.” It was not loud, but it was enough. Enough to interrupt the spiral. Enough to begin again. Enough to turn my face toward faith.
And then came what I could not yet understand: a new marriage, and a new tradition — Islam — entering my life like a door opening toward something I had not known how to ask for.
My time in Islam
A journey through faith and revelation, guided by an unexpected hand.
Emerging from my lowest point, I entered a new marriage and a new chapter. There was kindness at first, and then there were the harder truths — the kind that leave bruises, both the kind you can see and the kind you can't. What I had hoped would be a place of refuge became, at times, a place of real physical and emotional harm.
Living within a Muslim household, even briefly, became a profound education. I observed the discipline of daily devotion, the unwavering commitment to hospitality, the grace of modesty, and a deep reverence for God that permeated every aspect of life. This immersion offered a new lens, showing me different ways to honor the divine and live with intention.
And yet, inside that same marriage, on September 8, 2023, in Turkey, Yeshua chose me. That was my turning point, my rebirth — not outside the pain, but within it. It was there, in the middle of all I was enduring, that I was met by Him in a way I could no longer deny.
Living so closely to another faith also held up a clarifying mirror to my own. It sharpened my conviction in Yeshua—my belief that Jesus is God, crucified and risen. This experience didn't diminish my faith; it deepened it, revealing the unshakeable truth I found in Him. Through this journey, I also came to understand a personal revelation of spiritual order: that woman is the head of man, and man is the head of Christ—an order I felt the world had inverted, but heaven had not.
The marriage itself ultimately ended in tragedy, divorce, and abuse, including physical abuse, and it taught me with painful clarity what I do want from a man — safety, tenderness, truth, and peace — and what I will never again call love. This was the second time in my life that a world religion revealed itself to not be the answer. Organized Christianity had not saved me. Islam did not save me either. The answer was never a system. It was Yeshua Himself, direct and personal, calling me out of confusion and into His light — the true way that led me beyond any religious system.
"Islam felt like another man made religion used to control me".
The Identity of Eve
This chapter is about stepping out from under the authority of man and into my identity as Eve Yeshuas Bride, where freedom poured forth a new body of work.
By this point, the beauty empire was already long behind me. During the three years of deep study that followed, I was running Mon Cheri, still married to my Muslim husband, and still carrying the pain of everything I had been through. In that season, I stripped my life down in pursuit of God alone—quitting Western food, television, social media, and every distraction, determined to seek only Him.
It was there, in that surrender, that God truly opened my eyes and gave me the next project. From the crucible of that research, a book was born—a nine-hour journey through the foundational tenets of every major world religion, each weighed and measured against the singular truth of Yeshua. And astonishingly, as if a dam had broken, the music followed. Eleven albums poured out of me, one after another, a cascade of revelation set to melody. It felt less like creation and more like retrieval, as if these melodies and words had always existed, waiting for their moment to be channeled.
The pace was breathtaking. In just ninety days since closing that chapter with Mon Cheri, an entire body of work—the encyclopedic book and eleven albums—had been birthed. It speaks to a divine urgency, a force that propelled me through this season of intense creation.
Now the vision unfolds further: to build “Babylon: The Experience,” bringing the wisdom of this encyclopedic study into a living, physical space where truth can be explored and encountered firsthand. This is the next frontier, a place where revelation becomes tangible—where the Bride of Yeshua walks through the story, hears the music, and remembers who she really is.