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My name is Chloe and I write about lifestyle, adventure, and mental health. always say writing found me by accident. Even though I excelled in classes like English and reading and wrote some short stories, I never dared to label myself as a writer. It wasn’t until I graduated high school when I truly fell in love with writing. I started writing not because I had this dream to become a great writer. I began to write with a new burning passion to educate on human trafficking, sexual assault, and other mental health related subjects. I also wanted to share my own story. I dug out my slow and outdated laptop, slapped together a shabby word press website, and decided to call my blog “Walking Undaunted." According to Merriam Webster, the definition of undaunted is to be courageously resolute especially in the face of difficulty, danger, or disappointment. Up until this point, I was a prisoner of my fear. I had lived one successful year at that point. Before that, I spent a good chunk of two years self-confined to my home terrified to step beyond the threshold due to my trauma. After one successful year of miraculously managing to graduate high school, getting a job, applying to college, and making new wonderful memories with friends, I decided to talk about my journey and continue to educate, share my story, and document my journey of living life outside of fear.

Sometimes I shared pieces of my story. I shared about finding Dr. William Tollefson, a trauma life coach who managed to save my life. I also wrote about how life is a gift and how I decided to live it to the fullest. A journalist for my small-town newspaper called the Hometown Focus reached out to me and invited me to be a guest writer one week. I wrote about my family’s tradition of blueberry picking each summer. After submitting that article, I was invited to have my very own column in the paper. I was over the moon. One month I shared a story during sexual assault awareness month. I vividly remember sweeping the floor of the coffee shop I worked at on a slow afternoon. An older woman named Betty who was in her eighties was one of the only customers in at the time. I always admired her. She just looked so beautiful wearing lipstick and her hair in classic pin curls. I decided I will probably be like her one day still wearing my lipstick and black winged eyeliner until the day I die. I felt her look at me then slowly start walking my way. I will never forget the way tears formed in her eyes as she thanked me for writing that article. She said, “women in my day could never have spoken so freely.” I had no idea she even read my articles. We embraced for a few long seconds, and I drove home from work that day with tears streaming down my own face. Because of that interaction over that one simple article, Betty and I became great friends. I still think about her all the time. When I pressed the publish button on my first silly blog post, I did not know the way writing would impact my life. During that time of my life, writing allowed me to heal in a way I did not expect. I discovered that I have a voice and I was determined to use it. I felt empowered, and I wanted others to feel empowered too.

One of my biggest supporters and sources of inspiration for my writing has always been my mother. She herself is a writer and was one of the very first people to encourage me to write in the first place. She was the first person to tell me I need to start labeling myself a writer. I tend to struggle with imposter syndrome in almost every area of my life, but she never fails to lift me up. My mother has also shared her own story, and I feel privileged to have been raised in a home that truly encouraged vulnerability and authenticity. She is mainly an adventure writer these days, and some of that has rubbed off on me. Writing and being vulnerable has opened up doors to connect with other people who have stories that look like mine. Writing my story in such a public manor has had its fair share of struggles. At times, I wondered if it was even worth it. Other times I almost even regretted it. But then it hits me that if I never would have put myself out there, I wouldn't have connected to some of my favorite people in my life. The stories they have shared with me have also deeply inspired me. These people have often been the glue I needed to hold myself together on the hard days. I still say that if my story has helped just one person, it all has been worth it.

I don’t regret any decision I have made with my writing. But for the first time in my life, I have chosen to take a step back from writing about the past and pour into myself in way I never have been able to before. I wanted to get to know me and who I am outside of my trauma. I went back to school after taking a couple of years off, made time to do some travel, and poured myself into trying new hobbies. I found additional passions like music, cooking, and photography. When I went back to school at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, I took a class called Writing for Healing. It was the first time I wrote about my past in a couple of years. Somehow, it just didn’t feel right anymore, and it felt deeply triggering. I know if I open myself up that way again, I will hold better boundaries for myself. I will always be passionate about those topics. However, I have found that I am looking to expand my voice and the topics I write about. I don't want to only write about the trauma that has impacted my life. I want to write about being on the other side of it all. I want to write about the things that deeply excite me and explore my writing abilities on a deeper level.

Taking this time to explore myself and to heal in a more private way has allowed new passion to build up. I want to write about my travel and experiences and maybe even dabble in writing some fiction or fantasy. Maybe I will launch a new blog, submit an article to a magazine, write for another newspaper, or even write a novel one day. All I know is Walking Undaunted no longer fits me. Because sometimes I am still afraid but that is okay. I am learning it is okay to be afraid, but to do it anyway.