A Flicker of Resilience: This is How I Begin Again
An Introduction to Ember Grey and the Story Behind the Fire
In the quiet aftermath of a long, consuming fire, a small, faint ember remains—glowing softly, defiantly.
Ember Grey is the pen name chosen to represent that still-here flicker of resilience—the quiet strength that survives destruction. Not a remnant of ruin, but the beginning of an unwritten story.
This Substack is a space for poetry, reflections, and short personal essays about surviving domestic abuse—and more than surviving: healing, reclaiming, redefining.
I spent over 14 years in a marriage marked by physical violence and emotional abuse—the kind of manipulation and control that doesn’t always leave a visible bruise, but quietly chips away at your sense of self, until the sound of your own truth becomes foreign.
I was told;
My emotions were irresponsible.
My instincts, flawed.
My reality, fabricated.
My panic attacks, counterfeit.
My depression—a luxury I had no right to claim.
I was tangled in a web of control, deception, and betrayal for years, trying to make sense of what made no sense at all. And somewhere between his words and my doubt, I became a ghost in my own life.
But even in that hollowed-out version of self, I was a mother responsible for three beautiful daughters. So I kept going. And continue to walk a tightrope between protection and truth—shielding my children from the full weight of what was endured behind closed doors, while teaching them to walk with the strength, integrity, and kind of courage I struggled to claim for myself.
Writing has become a refuge—a way to process my pain, reclaim my voice, and begin to recognize myself again. These reflections aren't just words; they're how I name what I’ve walked through. A black and white reminder that even when fear takes hold, a flickering hope remains, steady and relentless, slowly rebuilding what was lost.
I’m not here to offer polished poems or to provide answers on how to prevent domestic abuse.
I’m here to offer my story. My truth.
A truth that was silent for a very long time.
If you are walking a similar path, these words are offered as both witness and quiet company. I once felt desperate and alone in my journey—may these pieces meet you where you are and offer some kind of comfort.
If you are here to learn, to understand, to support—thank you. There is power in being seen. And even more in being believed.
If this content moves you, please consider supporting this work. All donations will go toward legal aid for survivors of domestic abuse—women fighting not just for justice, but for their freedom, their safety, and their voice.