The Storm was the rawest experience I’ve ever had in writing. There was something dangerous about it—something that reminded me of the reckless firsts of youth, like trying a cigarette or stealing something small, just to see if you could. But what I was attempting to steal in those early days of writing wasn’t material. It was a life—a truer life—buried beneath the foundation of who I thought I was.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was digging into the depths of myself. And what I uncovered was far from pretty. I feared those 90 days of writing would produce nothing but gross, toxic words. Yet, if that was all I had to give, then I decided I’d give it anyway. The page absorbed it all, unflinching, and as it did, I felt lighter.
It wasn’t just about detoxifying myself. It was about transformation. Each truth I spilled onto the page made room within me for something far better—the reality of my life as it is today. A life where abuse is no longer a shadow over my shoulder. A life filled with family, love, and support.
As I wrote, I began to see with clarity the deeper, truer version of myself. A version I’d never met, hidden beneath years of trauma and self-doubt. This version of me wouldn’t have surfaced if I hadn’t spilled everything I carried in my mind, my muscles, and the very fibers of my being onto the page.
Those words, raw and negative as they were, held a power I hadn’t expected. Even as I poured out pain, I made a conscious effort to end with a thread of hope—a reminder that the words would work their way through me if I let them. I wrote in complete faith that the act of writing wasn’t a waste of time. And rereading those pages, I found courage.
Each page became a battle won. Each day I faced the storm, I edged closer to discovering my truest voice. A voice that didn’t just understand the power of words but utilized them to uncover realms of self and a reality I’d never believed possible.
The storm wasn’t easy on my nerves. Storms never are. They demand courage. They ask us to walk into their chaos, not knowing how we’ll emerge. But I’ve come to learn this: the rewards of freedom, of peace, and of a life lived in light far outweigh the fear of facing the dark of the storm.
Because after the storm, the sun always shines again. And when it does, the rewards of life are immeasurable.