Stella Reddy's Story of Hope

Reading Time: 3 minutes

Why I Write: The Power of Naming Your Truth

There was a time when silence felt safer.
When I thought keeping my pain hidden would protect me — from judgment, from disbelief, from having to relive it all again. But silence doesn’t heal you. It keeps you small. It keeps the story unfinished.

Your silence is how the toxic people keep getting away with their behaviour. Silence amplifies the shame they place on you.

Writing changed that for me.

When I first began putting words to what I’d been through, I wasn’t trying to be brave. I was trying to breathe. The page became the only place where I didn’t have to explain myself, defend myself, or pretend I was okay. It was just me — raw, honest, real — finally saying, This happened to me.

And something powerful began to happen.

Naming It Takes Away Its Power

There’s a kind of magic in naming your truth.
When we name the things that have hurt us, we strip away their ability to hide in the shadows. We stop carrying other people’s shame and start reclaiming our own narrative.

For years, I carried memories like stones in my pocket — heavy, hidden, dragging me down. But the moment I started naming them out loud, they became lighter. They became stories, not secrets.

Writing is how I remind myself that what happened happened, but it no longer defines who I am.

Writing Isn’t About Revenge — It’s About Release

People sometimes think writing about trauma is about getting even or proving a point. It’s not. It may have started that way for me in 2019, but it didn’t take long to change.
For me, it’s about release — setting the pain down where I can see it, shape it, and finally walk past it.

Each post I write is a small act of letting go.
Not of the truth itself, but of the weight it once carried.

When I share my story, I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m creating space — for myself and for anyone else who has felt voiceless, gaslit, or unseen. Writing turns wounds into wisdom.

Truth Is Healing — Even When It’s Messy

Healing isn’t clean or linear. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and often lonely. But the truth is the thread that pulls you through it.

Some days, my words come easily. Other days, they’re tangled in tears. But I write anyway — because every time I name what’s real, I feel a little freer.

Writing doesn’t erase the past, but it gives it purpose.
It helps me understand who I am now, not just who I was then.

Your Truth Matters Too

If you’ve ever been told to stay quiet — to “move on” or “let it go” — I want you to know this: silence isn’t healing. Speaking, writing, creating, or even whispering your truth is.

You don’t need to publish it online or share it with the world. You just need to start somewhere.
Write a sentence. Scribble a note. Name what hurts.

Because once you name it, it loses its hold.

I Write Because It Sets Me Free

I write because it reminds me that I’m still here — not broken, but becoming.
I write because words are the bridge between what happened and who I’m becoming.
I write because truth is powerful — and it belongs to me now.

So if you’re standing at the edge of your own story, afraid to speak it, remember this:
You don’t have to be fearless to tell your truth.
You just have to begin.

And when you do, you’ll feel the same power I did — the quiet, steady freedom of finally naming your truth.