My twenties had been defined by adventure and learning through travel for education and my work in international development. At 29, I had settled into making a difference through local volunteer work and a dream role as a high school guidance counsellor, with the goal that my thirties would be hallmarked by motherhood and further career growth. Instead, I started my 30th year with tragedy, trauma, stigma and shame. My goal, at least at first, was mere survival. To actually live fully again would mean rebuilding my life in every way imaginable, navigating the complex grief of losing my husband to life incarceration, enduring the pain of being punished for “guilt by association” by my employer and community, overcoming PTSD and coping with the helplessness I felt toward the victims—all while bushwhacking my way through the justice system as both a direct victim of crime (voyeurism) and a collateral victim of crime (wife of the offender).

No one had a guidebook to give me, so I figured it out one step at a time, by trial and error. My resilience was tested at every turn, and over time I carefully placed (and sometimes misplaced) the shards of glass into a mosaic that I could accept, build a new life on and, one day, even find beautiful. When I arrived in a better and safer time, I wrote the book I’d needed in my darkest hour—Through the Glass—and with its publication came a reach far greater than I’d ever imagined. I transformed my voicelessness, vulnerability, violation and exposure to violence, and became vocal, validated, vindicated, valued and vibrant. Then, a new purpose emerged: To help others do the same.