I wouldn’t call myself an avid reader - in fact, I’m a pretty slow one. These days, I gravitate toward audiobooks because they just fit better into my life. I can listen while working out or driving to meetings. What I really love is when the author narrates it themselves, in their own voice, just the way they’d say it - it makes the whole thing feel more real, more personal.

Even though I take my time with books, I’ve always been drawn to a certain type - self-help, memoirs, non-fiction. Real stories. Real people.

There’s one book I read years ago that left a mark on me: A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I must’ve been around 20 at the time. I don’t remember most books I’ve read (my memory is pretty awful), but I remember exactly how that one made me feel.

What I remember most was the opening scene: the main character wakes up on a plane. He’s disoriented, beaten, bleeding. He has no idea how he got there or what happened. His teeth are missing, his face is shattered, and he’s being sent to a rehab clinic in Chicago. 

The whole book is like that - raw, brutal, unflinchingly honest. Frey doesn’t sugarcoat addiction or recovery. It’s messy. It’s painful. But above all, it’s real. At the time, I’d never read anything like it. I’d never seen pain laid out so vividly on the page, and it really moved me.

A few years ago, I watched an interview with Lorraine Kelly and Michelle Heaton. Michelle was tearfully apologising for having been drinking before appearing on a previous episode of the show. She was emotional, vulnerable, and you could see the weight of everything she’d been through. She was in the process of rebuilding, healing. It was powerful - and it took me right back to that book.

More recently, I found myself thinking about it again and ended up listening to a podcast called This Is Powerful. Michelle was a guest - this time healthier, stronger, and still incredibly honest. She spoke openly about her journey, not just to tell her story, but to help others with theirs. It struck me how much strength there is in that kind of honesty.

Then I listened to another episode - an interview with Vicky Nicholson. Her story? Absolutely heartbreaking. But also incredibly brave, courageous, and deeply human. She spoke with a raw honesty that lingers long after the podcast ends. I found it beautiful - how she bared herself, sharing her pain and her journey with such honesty.

And I guess this is what I’m getting at: people go through the darkest, most unimaginable things. And they come out the other side. They don’t just survive - they speak. They share. They help. That kind of honesty is a gift. It’s brave. It’s healing. It reminds you that no matter how broken life can feel, there’s always hope.

I’m not even sure where I’m going with this blog, if I’m honest. I just keep coming back to this thought: you can fall apart - completely fall apart - into a million little pieces. But you can rebuild. You can come back stronger. And maybe, just maybe, you can use your story to help someone else get through their own.

That, to me, is the most powerful kind of strength there is. 🩷