I'm writing this Thursday evening, with Hurricane Helene set to hit in a few hours.

We've already lost power and internet several times today. Not sure what Tampa will look like by morning, so I'm scheduling this in advance.

Now, back to where we left off.

Much of Florida, Georgia, and Northward have been bracing for Helene. But as I mentioned in my most recent email, internal storms are the root of many of our daily headaches.

Plus, there's something in that email I didn't discuss — the power of forced disconnection.

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When silence becomes a gift.

After the savage passing of Hurricane Ian two years ago, an eerie quietness descended that evening.

But instead of complaining about a night I'd spend sweating in a room lined by metal shutters, I welcomed the silent, starlit sanctuary. For the first time in weeks, I felt truly free from a bully stalking me online.

As dawn approached, I knew the external landscape would be altered, trees uprooted, and familiar landmarks erased. Yet, in that temporary candlelit bubble, my internal terrain had also changed.

I felt lighter.

That forced disconnection separated me from circumstances that had become unbearable. And, oddly enough, the silence after Ian was exactly the break I needed.

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So, if you're facing a storm — whether it's a physical one or a personal challenge you can't control — keep going.

The calm after the storm might feel uncomfortable, but it often brings unexpected clarity. Those quiet moments may be your biggest gift.

Sometimes, silence is what we need to emerge stronger.

Michelle

PS: If you missed it, click to read, "The real eye of the storm? It's you."​