I’m so glad you’re here.
First and most honestly: I am a person in progress. The work of healing is part of my daily life. Trauma sits with me like an old, frayed blanket — always present, sometimes heavy, sometimes folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Some days the weight lingers; sometimes I feel light and free. I have a fierce support circle who won’t let me stay down for long, therapy tools that I use again and again, and a trauma therapist’s office that still feels like a safe room I visit when I need to. I don’t want to sound like I have everything figured out — because I don’t — but neither am I adrift. I am learning to be steady, imperfect, and kind to myself.
A mother first (and proud)
I am the mother of two young adults who, in addition to my own mother, are the truest measure of resilience I know. They climbed out of confusion and fear with small, stubborn acts of courage: staying in school, reaching for help, keeping faith in a better tomorrow. Today they are in college, working, laughing with friends, building lives that are free and full. That didn’t happen overnight — it was steady work, sometimes messy, often quiet — and I’m endlessly proud of their perseverance.
Work that taught me how to survive (and to keep going)
Professionally, I built a long career doing analytical and research work across healthcare, financial services, technology, academic research, and public-sector projects. My days have included: designing surveys and data-collection systems, administering clinical research, building dashboards and automated reports, supporting disaster-recovery and business-continuity efforts, creating documentation and client-facing procedures, and translating complex data into clear, actionable recommendations. I’ve led cross-functional projects, supported executive decision-making, and published peer-reviewed research. Those roles required steady focus, an ability to solve knotty problems under pressure, and the courage to keep showing up — skills I sharpened while rebuilding my life.
I share that not to talk about titles, but to show what resilience looks like in motion: determination, discipline, creativity, and the stubborn refusal to let fear write my story.
Rediscovering myself
After two decades of putting much of myself on hold, I’m rediscovering the woman I set aside. I’m reacquainting myself with hobbies, curiosity, friendships, and quiet pleasures I didn’t have space for before. This is a gentle reintroduction — like opening a box of letters you wrote to yourself years ago and smiling at how far you’ve come. I’m excited about the small, delightful things that make up a life: new routines, little celebrations, and the slow, steady work of becoming wholly me again.
Why I started this work
This site grew from that slow, lived knowledge: that survivors deserve warmth, practical tools, and a place that understands the complicated rhythm of healing. I started this space because I wanted the kind of help I once needed — clear resources, honest stories, and the firm reminder that you are not alone. If my experience can make one person feel seen, less judged, or more hopeful, then it’s worth sharing.
A warm note to you
If you are reading this because you’re in the middle of something painful, or you’re just beginning to find your way out, I see you. You don’t have to be “fixed” to deserve kindness, safety, or rest. This site is meant to be a hand on the shoulder when you need it, a bookshelf of practical suggestions when you’re ready, and a quiet corner that believes in your capacity to heal.
Thank you for visiting. If you want to learn more about the resources here or the approach we take, please stick around — there is a whole, gentle library waiting for you.
Warmly,
Delicia C. Brown