YOU'VE ENTERED THE PORTAL

I have carried my story across highways and backroads, through motel nights and desert dawns. Each mile became a teacher, whispering that grief could ride shotgun but never take the wheel. The land itself shaped me into a woman who keeps moving, even when the weight is heavy.

In the silence of caverns, I came face-to-face with shadows I had long tried to outrun. The echo of my own breath reminded me I was still here, still alive, still capable of rising. In the depths, I learned that darkness is not punishment—it is initiation.

The waters have washed me clean more than once—sometimes through tears, sometimes through tides. I surrendered to the pull of waves that stripped me bare and returned me whole. Every shoreline became a baptism into the truth of who I am becoming.

I have stood on porches with women, swapping stories in rocking chairs and silence. These thresholds—between inside and out, between despair and hope—have been my classrooms. Spirit has always found me there, waiting with lessons in stillness and courage.

There comes a point where the world strips you bare—where every mask, every illusion, every comfort you clung to burns away. The Reckoning is that moment. It's the storm that demands your truth, the mirror that won't lie, the fire that refuses to let you stay the same. To walk through it is to face your shadows with steady hands, and to rise carrying the kind of power only born on the other side of breaking.