A draft—an intentional blooming of revelation from my upcoming book, “Soul Notes.”
14 years in recovery…blooming, releasing, rebirth.
There is always a silver lining, but sometimes it comes at a cost that bankrupts you…energetically, spiritually, physically, mentally…and yes, financially.
For a long time, I was diminished by the voices around me—and eventually, by the one that took root inside of me. I learned early in my life to stay quiet. To disappear. To not say a word. That silence followed me into adulthood, into relationships, into spaces where I should have felt safe but instead I was always in a state of heightened alert…
And so I adapted.
I held on longer than I should have. I endured more than I deserved. Until one day, I let go of the rope—finally recognizing that it wasn’t holding me up… it was burning me alive.
What I didn’t know then is how long it takes for the mind and body to catch up to that kind of release. Even after you uncouple, even after you walk away, even after you begin to recover…something inside you still flinches, still waits, still remembers.
Healing is not immediate. It echoes.
There are days when grief rises up and levels you…for a minute,
a reminder…a reality check of not only what happened—but for how long it lasted…Nearly a lifetime…For what was lost in the silence. For the version of you who didn’t yet know she could leave.
And yet…
Without intending to, I made myself stronger.
I built a life where I am no longer dependent…financially, emotionally, physically, or spiritually. It may look smaller from the outside, even simpler by certain standards. But what I gained is something no external lifestyle could ever give me…
Peace.
I traded comfort and riches…for truth.
And I would make that trade again and again.
I have been judged, misunderstood, even quietly excluded…Addiction and mental health challenges have a way of isolating you from others who choose to stand in judgment and to apply the stigma that keeps so many unwell and afraid to ask for help…stigma…
Over the years, I have worked diligently to raise awareness, to educate, to erase that stigma and to encourage treatment seeking behavior…to serve the recovery community through my own story…
I chose to speak…to live out loud in recovery.
Not about everything—some truths I have carried quietly, with intention and protection…but enough to break the silence that keeps so many others trapped and unwell, unnecessarily.
I wrote not just for myself, but for those who have not yet found their voice. For those living in shame. For those afraid to step forward and ask for help. For those who do not feel safe and who feel judged.
And in doing so, something shifted.
Not just within me…but around me.
Some people leaned in with love and support.
Others turned away, uncomfortable with what honesty requires…who do not want to understand this brain disorder. (The DSM-5 classifies addiction as a Substance Use Disorder (SUD).
That, too, was part of the awakening.
Because when you speak your truth, it doesn’t just free you…
it gently (or not so gently) invites others to face their own…to exercise compassion and empathy, and to open their mind to learning about a fatal disease previously thought of as a moral deficit.
The greatest gift in all of this has been quiet, but profound…
To know that my children witnessed not just my fall from grace…
but my rise from the ashes.
To know they saw me choose life.
Choose healing.
Choose to rebuild—piece by piece, breath by breath.
To show them that no matter how far you drift, how broken you feel, or how much time has passed…
You can find yourself…perhaps for the first time.
And…you can begin…right there.
And maybe that’s what healing really is—
not becoming someone new,
but allowing yourself to emerge, finally, and to be who you were all along.
As I finished writing these words, a song about cherry blossoms began to play—soft, unexpected, perfectly timed.
And it stayed with me.
Because cherry blossoms don’t bloom forever.
They arrive after a long, barren winter…
delicate, fleeting, and breathtakingly beautiful.
They don’t ask for permission to bloom.
They don’t wait until everything is perfect.
They simply open…
fully,
and without apology.
And maybe that’s the lesson.
That even after everything—
the silence,
the pain,
the years of holding on…
you are still allowed to bloom.
Right on time.
Hope begins to find you the moment you choose to look for it…
The Silver Lining…
Love and blessings,
Wendy
To purchase my book, Write Pray Recover:A Journey To Wellness Through Spiritual Solutions and Self Care, click here: https://a.co/d/0frfiKCH
Write Pray Recover 