Trooper Concert!
Hubby and I had an awesome time at the concert on Thursday evening. I even had a beer — which is rare for me — but I had the taste for it, so why not? I got all dressed up and even wore makeup, which is even rarer. I’ve got a few videos, but I haven’t edited them yet… I’m slow these days. They’ll be up on my YouTube channel before the end of the week if you want to check them out then.
In the meantime, here’s something worth watching: a local kid got pulled up on stage to play with this iconic band— absolutely unreal. This 12-year-old rocker got to raise a little hell with Trooper in St. John’s
It was a late night for us. We didn’t get home until after midnight, and Hubby went to work on four hours of sleep. We caught up over the weekend, and he’s back to his usual energy this morning. Totally worth it.
We have a lot of snow after the storm last week – 48 cm – and all the sidewalks haven’t been cleared yet, so it was a struggle for me to get around, but we managed. Downtown was a bit clearer, and I got a couple of pictures of George Street by the Stage. (I don’t go on George Street very often; it is lined with bars.) It looked nice, all lit up!
What stood out the most for me was the pure joy of simply being there. I haven’t felt that kind of uncomplicated joy in years, and it hit me in the best way. Healing my nervous system after years of psychological abuse has opened the door to a kind of joy I honestly thought I’d lost for good. When your body spends so long braced for impact, even good moments can feel muted or far away.
But slowly, with safety, time, and a lot of unlearning, my system has started to trust again. And that trust shows up in these small, ordinary miracles — like standing in a crowd at a concert, feeling the music in my chest, laughing, having a beer, and realizing I’m actually here, fully present, not dissociating or scanning for danger.
That’s the part that hit me the hardest: joy didn’t just return, it returned in a way that felt clean and real, untouched by fear. It’s the kind of joy you only feel when you’ve fought your way back to yourself. I’m still getting used to living without that constant hypervigilance and fear of people, because that state became my normal for far too long.
The strange part is that I was never someone who struggled with confidence around strangers — my whole career had me dealing with tenants, contractors, and every personality under the sun. I didn’t always enjoy it, but I was good at it, and I carried myself with confidence because I had to. Losing that part of myself after the psychological abuse was one of the hardest things to face, especially once I could no longer work.
But I was determined to get that confidence back. I refuse to shrink into a hermit or hide from life, even with a PTSD diagnosis. That’s not who I am. Reclaiming my presence in the world — step by step, moment by moment — is part of my healing, and I’m not giving that up.
I’ll be 60 in a couple of months, and I plan on celebrating it in style — out in public, surrounded by family and friends, soaking up everything this beautiful city has to offer. This is a new decade for me, one I never thought I would reach, and I plan on recognizing and celebrating that milestone.
Discover more from Stella Reddy's Story
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
That sounds like an awesome time!
Thanks, Kymber, it was fantastic. I felt 15 again listening and signing along to the music that night. The memories will stay with me for a long time to come.
I hope you are doing well! I think about you every day, sending positive thoughts, and sending you all my blessings!
Thank you, Lorrie. I think about you, too, and hope all is well. Blessings to you, too, my friend!