Rising Phoenix: The Start of Her Story

Introduction by Tim Tedder:
When I first came across posts by Rising Phoenix on the Threads app, I was immediately drawn in. Her voice carried honesty, wisdom, and a kind of hard-won strength that made me want to follow her journey more closely.

When I read her post on boundaries, I appreciated her insight and so reached out to ask if we could connect. We did. Eventually, we talked.

I invited her to share her story here, and she graciously agreed. This is her journey—in her own words. New posts from Rising Phoenix will appear each Friday.

Introducing Myself

Introducing myself isn’t as easy as it used to be—because I’m no longer who I once was. I’ve grown. I’ve been reshaped by heartbreak and rebuilt by hope. I’ve felt the beauty of love and the sting of betrayal. I’ve completely lost myself… and had to learn how to find my way back.

Maybe this sounds familiar. Maybe it’s just another story about love and loss. But it’s also my story—a story of breaking, and choosing to heal. Of staying, but learning that staying is a conscious decision, not a sentence. One I make every single day.

This story isn’t romantic. It’s raw, messy, painful—and real.

There was a moment everything inside me shattered. I had to choose: let the pain define me, or rise above it… even above the parts of me that wanted to shrink, stay silent, or disappear altogether.

The truth is, the people who hurt me most weren’t strangers. They were the ones I trusted. And sometimes, the one tearing me down… was me.

But I rose anyway.

I rose not just for myself, but for the people I love. I’m a mother, a daughter, and a wife—a woman grounded in deep connections, shaped by both love and hardship. These roles run deep, and they remind me daily of what matters most.

I’ve discovered many passions along the way—new ones I never expected. I love the freedom of mountain biking, the peace of hiking through nature, the grounding clarity that comes from just moving forward—one step, one trail, one breath at a time. I live for meaningful adventure, the kind that tests your limits and reminds you of your own strength.

I may have found new passions, but I also lost what I once loved. I used to love surprises — the anticipation, the thrill of the unknown. There was something magical in not knowing what was coming next. But after betrayal, surprises lost their shine. Now, I find comfort in honesty, in presence, in clarity. I’d rather walk a difficult path paved with truth than be blindsided by illusion. I don’t crave the unexpected anymore — I crave realness, stability, and the quiet strength of knowing exactly where I stand.

What I’ve Learned on My Healing Journey

Healing didn’t come from pretending everything was fine. It came from truth. From facing what I didn’t want to feel. From choosing myself—especially when it felt like no one else would.

I’ve learned that healing forces you inward, into places you didn’t know you had buried. It brings questions you’ve avoided and truths you can’t unsee.

One of the most painful and freeing realizations I’ve had is this:
His affair had nothing to do with me.
Not with my body. Not with my worth. Not even with the state of our marriage.
It wasn’t because I wasn’t enough. It was because he wasn’t whole.
And I stopped waiting for him to see that.
I stopped needing him to validate my pain.
Because in the process of healing, I found the missing pieces of myself—the ones I had silenced, given away, or forgotten. I saw the ways I had abandoned myself—not out of weakness, but out of love that wasn’t grounded in truth.

I used to think love meant endurance. That being a good partner meant being endlessly forgiving. That to be chosen, I had to stay. But healing doesn’t let you live in illusion. It doesn’t let you hide behind “It’s not that bad” or “He didn’t mean it.” Healing whispers: You deserve more—until you finally believe it.

There’s a quote I’ve carried with me for years:
“We grow and glow differently when we are loved and treated properly.” Author unknown
And while being treated well by others matters, what I’ve truly learned is this: that kind of love must start within.

For so long, I lived in survival mode. Always bracing for the next hurt. I thought strength meant holding it all together. But real strength is soft. It’s setting boundaries and keeping them. It’s saying no when everything in you wants to say yes just to avoid conflict. It’s choosing to walk away—not to punish, but to protect your peace.

When I finally started treating myself with the love, care, and respect I kept giving away to others, something shifted. The noise quieted. The chaos loosened its grip. And for the first time in a long time—I started coming home to myself.

I'm still healing. Still growing. Still rising.
But one thing is now certain:
Protecting my peace is no longer optional. It's sacred.

Why I Share

I share my story for one simple reason: to be real.
To say the quiet things out loud—the ones so many of us feel but are afraid to speak. I know what it’s like to suffer in silence. To smile through the ache. To hold everything together on the outside while unraveling inside.
If even one person reading this feels a little less alone, a little more seen, a little more empowered to choose themselves—then every word is worth it.

We all carry invisible battles. Unspoken questions. Buried grief. And though our stories may differ, the ache is often the same: heartbreak, confusion, fear… and sometimes, hope flickering quietly in the background.
That’s why I share.
Because healing can feel isolating, but it doesn’t have to be.
You are not alone.
You’re allowed to be a work in progress.
You’re allowed to take up space in your own healing.
Whether you choose to stay or go, my hope is that my story helps you choose you.

What I Hope for Future Posts

The future doesn’t have to look like perfection.
It can be something softer. Something real.
It can be peaceful.
As I continue on this path, I want to share more of that peace—more of the messy middle, the hard-earned joy, and the small victories that make healing worth it.
I’ll talk about the hard days and the hopeful ones, the setbacks and the steps forward.
I’ll share with honesty and heart—because healing isn’t neat, and growth doesn’t always look graceful. But there is beauty in the truth. And if that truth helps even one person feel seen, understood, or encouraged, then that’s enough for me.

Peace isn’t just an idea—it’s a lived experience.
It’s drinking your morning coffee without anxiety in your chest.
It’s falling asleep without replaying the pain.
It’s smiling for no reason. Laughing without guilt.
It’s trusting again—not just others, but yourself.
That’s what I hope these posts become: a soft space—a gentle pause in your day.

A place for reflection, connection, and reminders that you are not alone.
Healing isn’t linear.
Love can be rebuilt.
And peace—your version of it—is possible.
Whether you're just beginning again or slowly finding your way back to yourself,
I hope my words serve as a quiet reminder:
You are enough.
You are worthy of peace.
You deserve to come home to yourself—and stay.