I’ve heard from some of you that these chapters feel heavy. And they are. Because being “the strong one,” the “fun one,” or “the quiet one” can feel like a silent kind of grief.
But I didn’t write this to depress you. I wrote it to hold up a mirror. To let the women who feel invisible, tired, or quietly unraveling know they’re not alone.
The light is coming. But first—I had to show the weight of what’s carried in silence.
If you’re still reading… thank you for sitting in that space with these women. With me.
You’re seen. You’re felt. And you’re not forgotten.