It seems like everyone who writes a book or hosts a podcast eventually creates a website. And here I am, doing the same, but not because I had to. I did it because, with the help of a dear friend (the same one who co-created my book cover and made it look so wonderful), I now have a place to gather all my thoughts: about life, recovery, love, travel, and the countless ideas that cross my mind on any given day -and they are many!
So this is my first blog post on this new little corner of the internet.
I’ve often been told that I am brave for sharing such a personal story with the world, brave for writing it, brave for speaking it out loud. At first, I never felt that “brave” was the right word. It didn’t match what I believed I was doing.
Let me explain.
About three years ago, I started my podcast with one simple hope: to reach survivors who, like me, felt alone for a very long time. People who might benefit from hearing a complete stranger talk openly about the abuse they survived and the hard but beautiful work of healing. Work that leads us to joy, peace, and self-love; a place all of us deserve to reach.
There was nothing professional about how I began. No fancy microphone, no studio, no plan beyond my sincere desire to help. I used two basic platforms, hit the record button, and spoke from my heart.
And my only real thought was:
If I can help one person, I will be happy. If I can help a few, I’ll be ecstatic.
After my first episode, I saw 5–10 downloads. Not bad for something so small. Two weeks later, I uploaded the second episode and suddenly there were a little over a hundred listeners. A few days later almost a thousand. Two episodes and nearly a thousand people listening! I couldn’t believe it.
I felt happy. Useful. Heard.
My son taught me how to check the reviews, and they were all five stars. To me, that meant the podcast was helping someone out there — and that was everything.
Each week the numbers grew and now I have thousands of listeners! And they are from all over the world!. I kept recording when I could — every other week I posted, between working full-time and continuing my own recovery work. Life was and is busy, but meaningful.
I recorded twenty-two episodes in total and received messages along the way. My favorite was from a man who thanked me for explaining trauma in a way he could understand so he could better support his wife. That message moved me deeply.
Then, two years after starting the podcast, I woke up one morning and decided I could write my story with more detail and still be honest and truthful. The story of my survival: the trauma, the aftermath, the healing, all of it.
So I got out of bed, took a shower, ate something, walked my pup, and thought about where to begin. When I returned home, I sat at my desk and let my fingers go click-click-click on the keyboard.
Within two to three weeks, I had the bones of my book. Then came the revisions -the many revisions.
Memories resurfaced. Some moments were painful; others surprisingly healing. I’ve never been able to journal consistently, so writing happened in chunks, bursts of time and emotion. I originally had about sixty single-spaced letter sized pages, and that number kept growing with each pass.
Jess read the first “final” draft and gave me thoughtful pointers. Then Madhavi, another friend, read it and shared her thoughts, which were very positive. Then Rebecca, a dear friend, author, and professional editor, reviewed it and helped me reshape certain parts again. I followed every recommendation without changing my voice.
Eventually, I reached a point of, “I can’t read this one more time.” In hindsight, I probably should have, but at the end August -about a year after beginning to write- I published UnSilenced, A Journey of Healing from Sexual Abuse.
And now, three months later, I’ve sold a good number of copies. But my goal is the same as when I started the podcast:
- I want to reach people.
- To help survivors feel less alone.
- To bring hope.
- To invite understanding.
This time, though, I also want to reach those who haven’t been affected directly so they hopefully can provide support to someone who has.
As we all know, unless you are incredibly famous, you don’t become rich from writing a book, especially the first one. I don’t expect riches. I want conversations. I want people to think of their neighbor, co-worker, friend, family member, of anyone who may be silently carrying the weight of sexual abuse or any kind of trauma and feel inspired to reach out, to listen, to care.
My story is real, honest, and personal. I share it not for gain, but for connection because if my words help even one other human being, then sharing them is worth it.
Thank you for reading, listening, and supporting me on this journey.
Sending Love & Peace.