The Day I Stopped Whispering: Why I Finally Published Quiet All Along
For decades, I lived two lives.
In one life, I was the daughter of an oppressive Eastern European regime, a student of logic, and a woman with a degree in psychology. I was trained to look for patterns, to value the empirical, and to trust only what could be measured, categorized, and filed away. In that life, "gliding above the carpet" as a child was a trick of the mind. Visions were glitches in the neurocircuitry. The "quiet parts" were simply things to be ignored for the sake of sanity and social standing.
In the other life—the one I lived in the dark, in the silence of my own heartbeat—I was a witness to the inexplicable.
Today, that double life ends. With the release of my memoir, Quiet All Along, I am finally taking off the mask of the skeptic. I am standing in the light and saying to anyone who has ever felt "crazy," isolated, or silenced by the weight of the unseen: “Yes, me too.”
The Weight of the Mask
If you have ever had an experience that science says shouldn't exist, you know the specific type of loneliness it creates. It’s a cold, clinical kind of isolation. You learn to become an expert at silence. You filter your stories through a "logic lens" before they ever reach your lips.
I spent years doing exactly that. My psychology degree wasn't just a career path; for a long time, it was a shield. It was my way of saying, “See? I am grounded. I am rational. I am not one of 'those' people.” I used the frameworks of trauma, intuition, and cultural conditioning to explain away the moments that blurred the lines of reality. I tried to stay rooted in a world that I was taught to trust, even when that world felt too small to hold the truth of what I was seeing and feeling.
But grief has a way of tearing through filters. When the foundations of my world were shaken, the questions I had spent a lifetime avoiding didn't just knock at the door—they demanded entry. I realized that by keeping the "quiet parts" of myself hidden, I wasn't being logical. I was being dishonest.
The Writing Process: A Collaboration of Soul and Logic
Writing Quiet All Along was not a linear process. It was a messy, profound, and often terrifying excavation.
I remember sitting down to draft the first few chapters, my hands literally shaking over the keyboard. I kept waiting for the "skeptic" in my head to shut the whole project down. I’d write a passage about an encounter that defied physics, and then immediately follow it with three paragraphs of psychological theory to "justify" why I was allowed to talk about it.
It was during these moments that the creative process became a partnership between the two sides of who I am. I looked at how to weave together personal testimony with near-death research, mythology, and cross-cultural perspectives. I didn't want to just tell a "ghost story"; I wanted to create a bridge.
The goal was to provide "Michelin-caliber food for thought"—something that satisfied the intellect while honoring the spirit. I worked to ensure that the book wasn't just a recount of events, but a roadmap for how to integrate the inexplicable into a modern, rational life.
The "Me Too" Moment
The turning point for me—and the reason this book exists—was the realization that I wasn't alone. I remember the exact moment a single online post shattered my lifetime of isolation. Seeing someone else describe an experience similar to my own didn't just validate my past; it gave me permission to have a future where I didn't have to hide.
That is what I want Quiet All Along to be for you.
I wrote this for the woman who has seen things in the corner of her eye but tells herself it’s just "stress." I wrote it for the man who had a premonition that saved a life but calls it "coincidence." I wrote it for the seekers who are tired of being told that their spiritual depth is a symptom of something else.
By sharing my journey—from the oppressive silence of my youth to the moment I finally let myself believe my own eyes—I am hoping to create a space where you can do the same. This book is an invitation to stop running from the truth. It is a testament to the courage it takes to say, "This happened to me."
Reclaiming the Quiet Parts
Within the pages of Quiet All Along, we explore the early memories that science struggles to explain. we dive into encounters that blur the lines between intuition and the unseen. But more importantly, we look at the reclaiming.
Reclaiming your story is an act of revolution. When you stop apologizing for your perception of the world, you reclaim your power. You stop being a passive observer of your life and start being the author of it.
The title, Quiet All Along, refers to that internal voice—the one that knows the truth, the one that has been whispering to you since you were a child. It’s the part of you that isn't afraid of the unseen because it is part of the unseen. It has been there, quiet and constant, waiting for you to listen.
A New Chapter: Exclusively on Amazon
As I move into this new phase of my career as an author, I’ve made some intentional choices about how this book reaches the world. To ensure I can focus on the next book in this series (which is already in the works!), I have streamlined the availability of Quiet All Along.
The book is now available exclusively on Amazon.
For the Digital Reader: You can find the Ebook on Kindle. It is also part of Kindle Unlimited, which is a wonderful way to support independent authors like myself.
For the Tactile Reader: The Hardcover and Paperback versions are available for those who want to hold the story in their hands, highlight the passages that resonate, and keep it on their shelves as a reminder that they aren't alone.
Moving Forward Together
Thank you for being part of this journey. Thank you for being the "seekers" who make this work meaningful. If you’ve ever felt like you had to hide the most interesting parts of yourself to fit into a logical world, I hope this book finds you.
I hope it helps you find the courage to take off your own mask. I hope it helps you believe your own eyes. And most of all, I hope it reminds you that you have been heard—quietly, all along.