07/28/2025
The door has finally closed on a very dark chapter in my life… but I’m still standing here, waiting for another door to open.
It's been over a year since I last posted. And although I never formally said I was closing my business, I just quietly faded out while life got painfully heavy.
Five years ago, my life changed in a way I never could’ve imagined. I went through a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that ended in emergency surgery after fighting to be taken seriously. I knew something was wrong. I begged to be seen, hoping for answers and for someone to listen. But I was met with dismissal and delay… until it became a life-threatening situation.
That experience broke me in ways I never would have expected it to. It wasn’t just the physical trauma- I’ve never felt so insignificant, so unseen, and so disposable. After that, fear took over. It changed me. It affected my marriage and it affected my son. I couldn’t bring myself to try again, and now I find myself watching him struggle with loneliness- knowing I didn’t have it in me to at least try to give him the sibling he used to dream about. The guilt of that is something I carry every single day. My fear stole something from him, from us, and I'm left feeling ashamed and selfish.
We pursued justice, hoping that maybe if someone acknowledged what happened, it would bring closure, and after five long years, we finally had our chance. But instead of being heard… I was called a liar. Instead of healing, I was retraumatized.
And through it all, this past year nearly hollowed me out. I felt like I was being slowly chipped away by small criticisms from every angle. Work, family, friends, even my own mind. Every comment, every judgment, every moment of being misunderstood or dismissed felt like one more tiny wound. Nothing huge on its own—but together, it was death by a thousand cuts.
Eventually, I shut down. It felt like the only way to survive was to become unfeeling; detached and mechanical. Just going through the motions of each day because letting myself feel would’ve been too overwhelming. There were days I didn’t know how to keep going. Days I wondered if people would notice if I disappeared. Days I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
I withdrew from my work. From my friends. From the version of me that used to feel joy, confidence, and creativity. I became someone I never wanted to be- numb, empty, ashamed.
That chapter is finally closed, but I don’t feel healed. I don’t feel free. However, there are moments—small, fleeting ones—where I remember who I used to be. Watching artists like Simply Blessings Photography create beautiful, expressive work has stirred something inside me that says, “You’re still in there.”
I don’t know what’s next. But I’ve made it this far. So maybe I’ll start showing up here again. Not to announce a comeback or relaunch anything, but because I’m tired of feeling invisible. No promises… no big plans. Just a quiet attempt to reconnect with myself.
If you’re carrying something heavy, if you’ve felt invisible or numb or lost: I see you. I know how dark it can get. I’m standing in the hallway too, waiting for the light to break through.
📸 by Lindsey Rachel Photography
edit by me
