A review by stephanieiferrari
DOLORES: My Journey Home: (Finding Myself Beyond The ACE Family)--PART ONE by Catherine Paiz

4.0

Spoiler Review

This book reads like someone tearing the glossy Instagram filter off their life in real time. Catherine Paiz lays it all out — not with clean lines or perfect pacing, but with emotional urgency that feels raw and real. That messiness kind of works here, because the story she’s telling is anything but neat.

If you watched The ACE Family, you saw the curated perfection. The couple goals. The dream house. The kids. The money. The brand deals. But Dolores is about the cost of that illusion. It’s about Catherine trying to separate herself from the version of her life that was sold to millions and figure out who she actually is.

What hits hardest is how early the cracks started forming. Her childhood was already layered with instability, abandonment, and the kind of longing that makes you chase control later in life. She uses the third person when talking about younger versions of herself, and at first it feels jarring. But as the book goes on, it becomes clear — she needed that distance to process the trauma. She had to look at her former self like a character in someone else’s story to finally understand her. That part felt strangely powerful.

The fame stuff kicks in fast, and it’s disorienting how fast her life changed. What’s weirder is how different her version of events feels compared to the sanitized story that was fed through the YouTube machine. You can tell she’s still being careful changing names, avoiding legal trouble but if you paid any attention to ACE Family drama, it’s obvious who she’s talking about. That blurred line between the truth and the version we were shown is part of what makes the book work. You’re reading someone reclaiming their story, but you’re also aware that the damage from the original version still lingers.

The relationship with Austin is never fully spelled out, but you don’t need details to feel the tension. The emotional manipulation, the pressure to perform, the feeling of being trapped by a persona she helped build it all bleeds through. There’s betrayal here, but not in the tabloid sense. It’s deeper. It’s the kind that comes from not being seen, not being protected, and slowly realizing you sold yourself out for the dream.

Motherhood becomes the turning point. When she writes about her kids, the tone shifts. There’s less performative self awareness and more grounded reflection. That’s when you start to believe her when she says she’s changing. When she’s owning her past instead of rewriting it.

It’s not a perfect memoir. The structure jumps around. The name changes get confusing. Sometimes it reads more like a journal than a book. But there’s something compelling about watching someone untangle themselves from the version of their life the world thinks it knows.

She’s not asking to be liked. She’s not even asking to be forgiven. She’s just finally telling the truth or at least, her truth and hoping it’s enough to set her free. And maybe it is.