Part 5 – The Whisper Becomes the Roar

This post is part of From Unravelling to Weaving: My Journey to Recollections Within–a foundational, five-part series sharing the personal journey that gave life to Recollections Within. Each chapter will explore the moments, losses, and revelations that shaped the heart of this community.

The Threads Looking Back

When I sit here looking back over everything I’ve written in this series, I see a tangle of many threads: the loss of my Mum, the unravelling of a life that didn’t fit me anymore, the building of a new love, the whisper that gave me the name Recollections Within, the storms that nearly drowned us, and the resilience that came after.

None of it has been clean or pretty. The truth is, my story has been jagged and sometimes unbearably heavy. I didn’t write this series as a way to package it all neatly. I wrote it because these are the events and the life that carried me here.

Recollections Within didn’t come from a polished plan. It came from grief. From breaking. From love. From passion. From learning. From rage. From the healing that I’m still doing and I hope I will continue to do forever. It came from the undeniable truth that stories matter. Mine. Yours. All of ours.

A Persistent Whisper

When the name came to me in 2022, I didn’t know what it was supposed to be. I thought maybe it was a calling to create something small and tangible people could hold in their hands.

But the truth was I didn’t need to create things. I needed to create a space. I needed to tell the truth of my story, and I needed to build a place where other women could do the same.

It was the gift that emerged after I had endured the murky grief of losing my Mum, the long road of an unraveling marriage, and the terrifying ordeal of trying to keep my daughter safe. It arrived in the form of this ethereal, metaphorical gift from the memory of my Mum herself.

And from that moment, it wouldn’t let me go. Everywhere I turned, through new storms, the whisper was there, waiting.

Life’s Brutal Reminders

In November of 2024, my heart shattered as I watched the world around me fracture in ways I wasn’t prepared for. The helplessness was unbearable. My grief was so profound, I couldn’t bear to engage with people. My anger was an all-consuming fire. For the first time in decades, even meeting the eyes of strangers hurt. My psyche ached at the thought of being mistaken for something I was not, when the truth inside me was the exact opposite. In an act of self-preservation, I deleted social media from my phone and withdrew from the world beyond my four walls and closest circles.

Ironically, that withdrawal gave my mind the quiet it needed, and I began to realize there was something I missed. It wasn’t the noise and the anger of social media (they don’t call it doom-scrolling for nothing) but the genuine connection and community that lay in small, beautiful corners. I knew I was not alone in my heartbreak, and I ached for a place where our voices could be heard without the shallow, hateful echo chamber that I’d been avoiding.

The final push came just two months later. In January 2025, I found myself in the ER with a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop. My blood pressure was 207/137. A crisis.

Sitting there, faced with the stark reminder that our time is a  gift, everything came into sharp focus. This is not a rehearsal. This is it. I could no longer wait for the “right” moment to build this community. Life is too fragile. I needed to create this place of sanctuary for myself and every other woman who was also carrying all that we carry.

And the irony is not lost on me. I had to leave social media to realize what I was missing, and now, I must return to it to find the very women who need this space the most.

That was the turning point. Recollections Within stopped being an idea.

It became my singular focus. I haven’t stopped since. It’s been twelve hours a day, seven days a week since March when I bought the domain name. Recollections Within’s official “birth”day was the Spring Equinox and I find that to be just so beautifully fitting.

Why Stories

I believe stories are the only way we survive.

They are how we make sense of what happens to us. They are how we pass wisdom forward. They are how we keep each other alive when the world tries to silence or erase us. They are how we live on after our time here is over.

For years, I silenced myself. I made myself small. I told myself my story didn’t matter, or that telling it would hurt people, or that no one wanted to hear it.

But silence costs more than it protects.

It cost me years of my life. It almost cost my daughter hers.

I will not be silent anymore. And I don’t want you to be, either. This is where the collective roar begins.

The Quilt

When I close my eyes and think about what Recollections Within really is, what comes to me is The Quilt.

Each woman’s story is a patch. Some are bold and bright. Some are muted and delicate. Some are frayed at the edges. Some are stitched with steady hands, others with trembling ones.

But every single patch belongs.

Together, they make something that couldn’t exist if any one of them were missing. Something that nurtures, protects, and lasts.

That’s what I want Recollections Within to be. Not just my story, but our quilt. A place where your story is stitched right alongside mine, seen and honoured for what it is. I want my story to be a miniscule part of it, a drop in the proverbial bucket.

Your Place Here

I need you to know this: Recollections Within is not mine alone.

Yes, my journey birthed it. Yes, my words formed the foundation. But this space will only ever become what it’s meant to be because of you.

This community is not about perfection. It is about presence. Showing up with your truth, however messy, however incomplete, and trusting that it will be received with love.

Maybe your story is one you’re ready to shout from the rooftops. Maybe it’s one you can barely whisper yet. Either way, it belongs here. You belong here.

Closing the Circle

This series began with a whisper. It ends with an invitation.

From grief to whisper. From storms to resilience. From unraveling to weaving. Every thread of my story has carried me here, to this moment, to this place, to this invitation for you.

Recollections Within is waiting for your story. Whether you share it in The Quilt—in words, in art, in song—or in The Common Thread forum, your voice matters. It will meet other voices here. Together, they will form something none of us could ever create alone.

This isn’t just about remembering. It’s about becoming. It’s about healing. It’s about refusing to carry our stories in silence any longer.

The Quilt can never be complete without you.

✨ What thread will you add?

To start from the beginning, visit Part 1 – A Whisper That Meant Everything

Photo Credit: Ahmed Galal