The Moment That Broke Me Open In the Best Way

I was not prepared for today.

I was not prepared for the way my chest cracked open when I saw that first review. I was not prepared for the tears. I was not prepared for the way my rabbit Bunz started binking around the room like she knew something sacred had just happened.

But here we are.

And I want to tell you why this moment matters. Not because it is my first review, but because of everything that came before it.

I did not grow up knowing what love looked like. Not the safe kind. Not the steady kind. Not the kind that teaches you that you are allowed to take up space.

The closest thing I had to real love was what my grandparents showed me. Everything else was survival. Noise. Chaos. Pain I did not have words for.

I made mistakes. I hurt people. I hurt myself. I burned my life down more than once because I did not know how to hold what was happening inside me.

And for a long time, I thought that meant I was broken.

But healing has a strange way of finding you when you are ready, even if you do not know you are ready.

I found forgiveness. I found softness. I found a way back to myself that did not look like anyone else’s path.

And somewhere in that messy, feral, beautiful process, I started writing.

Not because I thought I was an author. Not because I had a plan. But because I knew what it felt like to be alone with feelings you cannot name. I knew what it felt like to read self help books that felt clinical and cold and nothing like the storm inside my chest.

So I wrote the book I wish I had. Then I wrote another. And another.

I wrote for the deeply feeling girl. For the ones who grew up in the dark. For the ones who never had the language for what hurt. For the ones who needed a softer way to heal.

And today, someone out there, someone I do not know, someone who owes me nothing, read my words and said

Definitely recommended.

Four copies in the world. One review. And it hit me harder than anything has in a long time.

Because it means the thing I made in the dark is reaching someone else’s dark. It means the way I healed is helping someone else heal. It means the girl I used to be, the one who thought she was too much, too emotional, too broken, was wrong.

I have no perfect words for what this means to me. Just this feeling in my chest, this softness, this quiet knowing

It is working. It is reaching people. It matters.

And if you are reading this, if you have ever felt alone or too much or like you did not have the right words for what you carry, I hope my books give you something I never had

A way to understand yourself. A way to breathe again. A way to feel less alone.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for letting my healing touch yours.

With heart, Tova