Breaking the Silence — The Story Behind the Series

A reflection on voice, lineage, and the courage to tell the truth.

There are seasons when the soul no longer whispers — it insists.
This year has been one of those seasons for me.

For years, I shared about Reiki, energy, and ceremony — the polished parts of healing that feel safe to name.

But beneath those offerings lived another story: the quiet ache of lineage, the unspoken grief of family, and the exhaustion of carrying what was never mine to hold.

When my mother passed, the silence around her pain became deafening.
I began to feel how many generations of women before me had swallowed their truth for the sake of keeping the peace.

It was then that Breaking the Silence was born — not as a brand or series, but as prayer.
A prayer for honesty. A prayer for healing. A prayer for all of us who were taught to smile when we wanted to scream.

Last week, I shared When They Stayed Silent, a love letter to every woman who’s carried grief in quiet rooms.
The messages and reflections that poured in reminded me why I began this series in the first place:

• to honor the stories our lineages were too afraid to speak

• to give voice to what still aches beneath the surface

• to remember that truth, even when met with silence, is still sacred.

The Moment I Began To Speak

At first, my words came out trembling.
I wrote about boundaries, grief, and the sacred weight of unacknowledged labor.
Each post became a mirror not just for me, but for the women reading who wrote back: “I thought I was the only one.”

I realized this work was bigger than my family story.
It was ancestral.
It belonged to the collective feminine, to every woman who has ever been called too much for simply being honest.

Breaking silence is never about blame.
It’s about bringing light to the places our lineage learned to hide.
It’s about choosing wholeness over harmony.

What  The Silence Revealed

In telling the truth, I didn’t just confront others, I confronted myself.
The parts that still wanted approval.
The parts that confused tolerance with compassion.
The parts that mistook self-sacrifice for love.

Through each piece Standing in Truth & Holding Boundaries, When They Stayed Silent, Letting Go of the Thread, I watched old versions of myself dissolve.
The daughter who kept everyone comfortable learned to rest.
The healer who carried everyone’s pain learned to put it down.
The woman who was once afraid to be seen began to feel safe in her own voice.

Grief became teacher.
Boundaries became devotion.
Truth became medicine.

The Collective Thread

Every time I wrote “you are not alone,” I meant it.
I’ve met so many women who carry unspoken sorrow in their bones the emotional labor, the caretaking, the quiet endurance passed down as love.
We were raised to be strong, not necessarily to be free.

But we are remembering.
We are learning that peace built on silence is not peace it is suppression.
We are learning that anger, when witnessed with compassion, is not destruction it is sacred clarity.
We are learning that our truth does not divide; it liberates.

When we speak, we don’t just heal ourselves.
We heal the women who never had the chance to.

A Blessing For The Path

To every woman who’s been silenced in her sorrow,
who had to hold it all together while no one held her —
you are allowed to be soft and still be sacred.
You are allowed to feel deeply and still be divine.
Your voice is not too much.
It is medicine.

For those who have felt unseen in your pain, or learned to smile through sorrow so others wouldn’t feel uncomfortable — know that you’re not alone.
I’m walking this path beside you, and together we are learning that healing doesn’t always look graceful, but it is sacred.

May our stories ripple through the lineage as healing songs.
May we remember that boundaries are love in form.
May we stop apologizing for existing fully, tenderly, and true.

With reverence and gratitude.