As I stand on the porch of a secluded cabin, the crisp morning air bites at my cheeks. The smell of pine trees and damp earth filled my lungs, a stark contrast to the suffocating perfume of the life I once knew. At 51, I finally felt free.

For years, I had lived in a prison disguised as a marriage. My ex-husband's words still echoed in her mind—"Be seen, not heard." I had been a ghost, moving silently through my own life, my dreams and desires brushed aside like dust. Every opinion I offered, every need I had, was dismissed. I had grown accustomed to silence, to shrinking myself down, to fading into the background.

But now, the silence was mine to command. It was the quiet of the forest, the stillness of dawn, the space to think and feel. The cabin had become my sanctuary, a place where I could finally write the stories that had lived inside me all those years, stories that were once smothered by my husband's control. I wrote about the dreams I had while trapped—of wild adventures, passionate love, and bold independence.

Every morning, I sat by the campfire with my notebook, the flame of my creativity burning brighter than ever. The woman I had been during my marriage seemed distant, almost unrecognizable. Now, I laughed loudly, without fear of judgment. I hike through the woods and sleep under the stars, feeling the freedom of each breath I take. Life, I decided, was too short to live quietly.

My latest book was about a woman like her—one who had been caged for too long but who eventually broke free, finding joy in the unexpected and power in her voice. I wrote each word with a smile, knowing it was more than a story; it was my truth.

As I finished writing for the day, I closed my notebook and stepped outside, the sun sinking low on the horizon. This was the life I had dreamed of but never believed could be real. I was no longer a shadow in someone else’s story. I was the heroine of my own screenplay.

With the wilderness spread out before me, I remind myself, “I’m finally heard.”

I thought my writings would make for a great novel someday,  but as you can read from my first story it turned out to be more of a screenplay of my life tomorrow with people I meet.  I am the author of my reality; I write it and it becomes reality.

I hope you enjoy my adventures in life.  Join my mailing list and I will be sure to keep in touch with you when I have a new adventure or if you just need to write to someone who understands where you are at in life. If you have your own dreams and adventures I would love to hear them.

Regards Carla Stranger