Waking up from the haze of mental illness felt like stepping out of a fog so thick I didn’t even know I was in it. My mind was a trap, a maze of beliefs I’d picked up from others or grown in the cracks of misunderstanding. When the fog began to clear, I found myself in nature, searching for peace in the quiet of trees and trails.
I’d sit in the stillness and watch my thoughts like an old film reel, each frame more painful than the last. My mind had been its own prison—cycling through false truths and the weight of stories that weren’t even mine. For the first time, I could see how much of my life had been lived wrong, how often freedom had been just out of reach.
But clarity doesn’t fix things—it just shows you the work. And there was a lot of it. I couldn’t just cover up the mess. I had to undo everything, layer myself back to the core. It was exhausting, and the doubt crept in fast: Is it even possible to undo decades of being someone else?
The answer wasn’t easy, but it was clear. I wasn’t living the life I wanted. I wasn’t the person I wanted to be. Change wasn’t optional. It was survival.
So, I started tearing down every piece of who I thought I was. The labels others gave me. The ones I gave myself. I’d been a golfer—but letting go of that showed me how much fear had held me back. I thought I was a writer—until that first day of the 90-day challenge when I wrote like I’d never written before. The words came out raw. Uncontrolled. Just pain spilling onto the page.
That pain became Nobody’s Words. It started with The Storm, but it kept going. Every word I wrote peeled away another layer of what had weighed me down for years. I wasn’t just writing—I was emptying myself of the pain. And in its place, there was space for hope.
I don’t live as an abused soul anymore. That story, that life—it’s done. Left behind in the words I wrote. Now, I live as a writer. Someone who’s walked through hell and come out the other side. A life Nobody built. A life I built for myself.
And that’s the freedom of Nobody. It’s letting go of every identity the world handed you and sanding it all down to the truth of who you are. It’s rebuilding—not as who you’ve been, but as who you were always meant to be.