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They Said I Couldn't...Watch Me

I want to tell you a little story.

I became a girl that didn’t have a voice.

A girl who thought that becoming whole again was impossible. That seeing herself in a beautiful and powerful way was never going to be possible.

I was broken.

I was scarred.

I had been torn apart and you could see the cracks where they just hadn’t mended together yet. Maybe they never will and they will always be there.

For a long time, I believed this.

And I was reminded of it again in a way that I wasn’t prepared for or expecting.


The other day was exciting. I had been accepted into a round table to discuss a business question that had come up for me with a panel of business experts. I was beyond excited because I wanted to talk about helping women publish their stories. Not only through blogging but I wanted to be able to create a suite of products that included helping them write their book and publishing it.

I know and live the power of sharing your story every single day and I want to truly help give these women a voice. I know what it feels like to not have a voice for so long and when you finally find it, you want that courage to be spread to other women.

Through my business program, I had always had my blog coaching program. This is how Creative Purpose started. Creative Purpose exists because I started helping women share pieces of their stories through blogging. That is who I am and that is what I do.

This idea sounds more like a passion project than an actual business.

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was sitting in front of a panel of business experts being told that my business, the whole reason I started my business, was only a passion project. A project that no one would want to create except for me.

There isn’t a business in trauma.

Those are the words I left with that day.

That there was no need for my services and what I was doing.

That all along I had been fooling myself into believing that I could change the world.

That women like me don’t need help to share their stories or even for that matter, want to share their stories.

I held back the tears and anger for the 30 minutes of continued discussion, all while wanting to find a way out of this room. My voice was once again, taken away and I wasn’t expecting it.


I used to be like them.

Thinking that what I was doing was crazy. That no one would want my help or even want to share their stories. I mean, hell, it took me 11 years after my sexual assault to have the courage to share my own story.

But you see, the thing is, that once I did begin to share it, I found a power within myself that I hadn’t seen for a very long time. A power that lit me up inside and helped me to heal and grow.

It was painful.

It was long.

It was a journey that changed my life from moment to moment.

But I had found myself again.

Through the pain.

Through the broken pieces.

Through the tears.

Through the heartbreak.

Through the smiles.

Through the doubt.