When my From the Cover story was published in DWC, I had no idea what would happen next. It became the second most-read article on the site, with over 49 million views.
But more than anything, it confirmed what I already sensed: so many women are quietly holding stories that have never been spoken. Still functioning. Still giving. Still disappearing.
The story I shared was mine, but it was also theirs.
And the question I’m asked most often now is: How did you start coming back to yourself?
The truth is, there was no big moment. No instant clarity. Just a quiet, steady return.
I began by acknowledging what I had denied for years — that I was exhausted. That I didn’t feel safe in my own home. That I no longer recognised the woman I’d become.
And then, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I listened. To my body. To my spirit. To the quiet voice I had buried under years of coping and surviving. Around that time, a mentor appeared — someone who reflected my truth back to me without judgement and supported me to reconnect with what I had long pushed aside.
I returned to the spiritual foundations I’d first explored as a teenager, practices that had always felt like home. I started meditating again — not to escape my thoughts, but to befriend them. I kept a quiet gratitude practice, even on the days it felt hollow. I let energy move. I let truth rise. And I let myself be held by something bigger than what I’d endured.
Are you recognising a part of yourself within my story? You are not alone.
Unfortunately, many of us learn to disappear in plain sight. This gentle guide offers a space to reflect a little deeper, and begin the quiet process of coming home to yourself.
Piece by piece, my trust was rebuilt. I stopped waiting for permission, and I began making decisions from a place of wholeness — not survival. Because disappearing might feel like protection, but remembering who you are is real healing.
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