This morning, I sat down at my desk like I always do—ready to meditate, breathe, and be present. Meditation has become a ritual for me. It grounds me when my emotions feel too loud, and when the world feels too quiet. But this morning was different. As I closed my eyes and tried to settle, a heavy thought bubbled up: "I love creating… but if I don’t start selling my work, how can I keep going?" That honesty hit me hard. I sat there wondering, What do I even have to give the world? Who am I? I’m just a woman who’s lost so much. Who battled addiction? Who drowned in grief and somehow came back up for air. Is there value in that? Then, during my grounding breath, a picture of my kids popped into my mind. And I just started crying. Not soft tears—deep, soul-cleansing ones. And then… “Suffering in Silence” was born.  

Here is the poem to go with this I hope you enjoy it.

 Suffering in Silence by you & me. She blooms, though broken, Crimson veils of pain unfurled, Each petal a whisper The world has never heard. Her stem is silent, Wounds dressed in grace, Dripping with sorrow In a colorless space. The buds, still closed, Hold futures she’s lost, Yet still she stands — No matter the cost. Strong is her silence, But louder her ache, She bleeds into beauty So the world around her might not break.