The Week I Disappeared — And What I Found in the Silence
The Week I Disappeared
And What I Found in the Silence
For a week, I disappeared.
Not because I wanted to. Not because I had stopped caring about my writing, my podcast, or the people who listen and read my work. Life simply became too heavy.
A kidney stone, scorching heat, dehydration, physical exhaustion, and the upheaval of moving homes all arrived at almost the same time. My body eventually made the decision for me: stop.
And then, just when I thought I had enough to deal with, I lost my internet connection.
For someone whose work exists almost entirely online, it felt like the final piece of the puzzle had fallen apart. The podcast didn't happen. The posts stopped. The articles waited. Messages went unanswered. For a few days, I was simply offline.
But something unexpected happened in that silence.
People showed up.
Messages came in. People checked on me. People prayed for me. People told me to rest. People reminded me that the work could wait. I had lost my digital connection, but I hadn't lost my human connections.
And perhaps that was the lesson I needed most.
We spend so much time measuring connection through screens, notifications, followers, likes, and messages that sometimes we forget what real connection actually feels like. It feels like someone asking, “Are you okay?” It feels like someone praying for you without asking for anything in return. It feels like someone reminding you that you don't have to carry everything alone.
It feels like kindness.
And then there were the smaller reminders that life was still moving.
An author friend bought one of my books. A children's colouring book I had created received its first order from someone who intended to donate copies to children. A few friendly faces appeared in my new neighbourhood. And, somehow, a little cute cat decided that my feet were a perfectly acceptable place to sit.
None of these things solved my problems. But they reminded me that life can still offer small gifts in the middle of enormous chaos. Sometimes we simply have to notice them.
I also found a small chapel within walking distance of my new home. After the pain, the exhaustion, the uncertainty, and the disruption, being able to sit quietly, attend Mass, and simply say, “Thank You for getting me through this,” became its own kind of healing.
I believe my guardian angel was watching over me through those difficult days.
But I also know that recovery isn't a switch that suddenly turns everything back to normal. I'm not completely recovered. There are still things to unpack, things to organise, routines to rebuild, and moments when my body reminds me that I still need to slow down.
But I'm here.
I'm breathing a little easier. And I'm beginning to find my rhythm again.
That's why I'm stepping back into Louder Than Letters. That's why the articles are returning. That's why the newsletters, illustrations, Instagram posts, books, stories, and new creative projects are beginning to move again.
And that's also why the Creative Bowl Raffle continues.
Because creativity is not simply about promoting books. It's about people. It's about giving independent writers, poets, artists, and creators a little space in which to be seen. This week, I'll be introducing three remarkable creators whose work speaks beautifully to the themes of resilience, humanity, and healing: Blossom R. and Voices of Resilience: Ten Stories of Trauma, Survival, and Strength; Regina Trotta and Why Being Human Is No Longer Enough: How Fear, Outrage, and Moral Certainty Are Pulling Us Apart; and Linda J. Wolff and #Self-Healing Poetry & Quotes for Ordinary People.
Their work reminds us that we all carry things other people cannot see. And perhaps that is the real reason we need stories. Somewhere, someone is struggling. Someone is healing. Someone is questioning. Someone is beginning again. And sometimes, a book, a poem, a conversation, or a simple sentence can remind that person: you are not alone.
The Creative Bowl is also part of my continuing commitment to supporting independent creators. Through Beyond the Writer's Script, I will continue highlighting the writers and authors featured on the podcast, showcasing their books and providing links for those who want to discover or purchase their work. I believe every writer carries a story, and every story deserves the opportunity to be heard. Our stories preserve the struggles, dreams, lessons, experiences, and truths of our lives—and they give something meaningful to the generations that come after us.
So yes, I'm back.
Not perfectly. Not completely healed. But willing.
Willing to write again. Willing to speak again. Willing to listen. Willing to create. And willing to take it one walk, one prayer, one page, one illustration, one podcast, and one day at a time.
The pause wasn't the end.
It was simply a pause before the next chapter.
And now, the next chapter begins.
Jacob Mascarenhas