08/21/2025
Everyone kept buzzing about some woman named Abigail.
“Wait until you meet her.”
“She’s incredible.”
“She is life-changing.”
All I could think was—She can’t be that great. No one is.
Then I met her.
They were right.
She walked into the room like she carried sunlight in her hands. There was something about her energy—gentle, but firm. Warm, but not overly sweet.
She didn’t smile to win you over. She smiled like she already knew who you were and was just glad you showed up.
She was radiant. Present. Alive.
When she looked at you, it felt like she could see every corner of you without having to say a word.
At one point, she asked a question to the crowd.
Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand shot up. It was like something inside me recognized that voice and leapt forward before my fear could catch up.
She smiled. Said my name. Started walking toward me with the microphone.
I panicked.
“Nevermind,” I whispered, already shrinking back into myself.
She stopped. Looked right at me.
“No,” she said softly. “You’re going to say what you need to say.”
My whole body shook as I tried to find the words. I don’t remember what I said. I don’t even remember what the question was.
I remembered her.
I remembered how she didn’t flinch.
How she didn’t look away.
How she waited for me to claim my voice when it had been buried under years of silence and shame.
When the retreat ended, I won a free book club with her. I almost didn’t go. I almost deleted the email and pretended it never happened.
Something in me needed to know what it felt like to be seen again.
So I showed up.
She showed up too.
She didn’t come in like she was going to fix me.
She didn’t come in with all the right answers.
She just sat down beside me, right in the middle of the wreckage I’d been standing in for years.
She didn’t rush me.
Didn’t pressure me.
She simply stayed.
I felt like maybe I wasn’t invisible after all.
Before I realized it, I needed Abigail.
I signed up for every class.
Every book club.
Every single thing I could fit into my life just to sit under her voice again. Just to remind myself that healing didn’t have to be loud—it could be soft. Gentle. Quietly powerful.
She wasn’t some magical fix.
She didn’t hand me easy answers.
She just kept showing up.
Again and again.
Even when I showed up bitter. Broken. Resistant.
For the first time in a very long time—I let someone in.
I told her the truth about everything. The r**e. The lies. The betrayals. The wreckage I’d been dragging behind me since I was a kid.
I told her about the nights I didn’t want to wake up. The days I pretended to be okay just so no one would ask questions I couldn’t answer.
She answered every panicked call.
Every midnight spiral.
Every breakdown I wasn’t going to make it through.
Every single time, she told me the same thing— “It’s going to get messier before it gets better.”
And it did. God, it did.
There were days I hated her for it.
Days I cursed her name through gritted teeth. Days I didn’t want to talk to her at all.
She never stopped believing in the version of me I couldn’t yet see.
I’d hang up the phone cursing under my breath, swearing I wasn’t going to do this anymore. Swearing I was done digging up wounds that still bled.
Every single week—I showed up anyway.
Because deep down, I knew this mess was the only way through.
Claire didn’t say anything at first. She just sat with it. Her eyes were distant, like she was trying to imagine what it must have felt like to let someone that far in after so many years of silence.
Finally, she let out a soft breath.
“I’m glad you had her, Gram.” Her voice broke a little, but she didn’t shy away from it.
“I don’t think I ever really thought about what it must have taken for you to start letting someone in again…after everything.”
She wiped her cheek, offering me a small smile.
“I’m really proud of you for showing up every week. Even when it was messy.”
I swallowed hard, nodding slowly.
Before I could respond, Craig leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath that sounded a little heavier than the others before.
“I wasn’t so sure about her back then.”
Claire looked over at him, brows knitting together.
Craig rubbed his hands on his knees, shaking his head like he could still feel the tension of it.
“All I could see were the dollar signs.”
He glanced over at me, his voice quieter now.
“It wasn’t cheap. I didn’t understand why you needed her so much.”
I nodded again, reaching for his hand this time.
“But I knew,” I whispered.
“I would have given every penny I ever had for the rest of my life if it meant I didn’t have to carry that darkness alone anymore.”
Craig let out another long breath, squeezing my hand gently.
“Now I know why you did.”
- Excerpt from Dancing Through Storms by Jaida Schupp
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