When the Storm Uproots You, It’s Time to Replant

This was my chance—not just to start over, but to step fully into the dream that had been waiting for me all along.

The re-ignition of my personal dream began not with a whisper, but with the roar of destruction.

In 2020, Hurricane Laura—a devastating force of nature—ripped through my hometown of Lake Charles, Louisiana. Officially classified as a Category 4 storm (though I’m convinced it was a 5), it didn’t drench the city in rain. Instead, it unleashed tornado-like winds that uprooted everything in its path.

( Hurricane Laura moving across the swamp towards my home. This was the first painting I created after my move to begin living my dream )

Among its casualties were six magnificent oak trees that had stood tall on my property—those romantic, sprawling oaks that adorn southern landscapes and grace the pages of steamy novels. These silent sentinels, protectors of my childhood memories, were wrenched from the ground, their roots exposed, their dignity lost.

I’ve always believed trees are more than mere plants; they are guardians of time, steadfast and unwavering. Seeing them scattered like discarded toys across what was once my front yard broke something inside me.

As I surveyed the wreckage—trees, home, memories—I felt a strange kinship with those uprooted giants. My life, too, was in limbo. Do I stay and rebuild? Could I? Should I? I was alone, caring for my elder sister, with no clear path forward.

Or, like those trees, was it time for me to pull up my own roots and move toward something new?

I chose to move.

The storm had demolished not just my home, but the illusion of stability I’d clung to for years. It forced me to confront a truth I’d buried: my life had been built on a foundation that never felt truly mine. This was my chance—not just to start over, but to step fully into the dream that had been waiting for me all along.

Unlike many women, my dream was never about marriage (though I tried it three times) or a life in the suburbs doting on family (though I have two beautiful daughters). My dream was different. It was about freedom, creativity, and curiosity. It was about living in a vibrant downtown, creating art, and letting my soul guide my path.

Today, I live that dream.

Nothing I lived before felt authentic. This does. It feels natural, effortless—whatever “normal” is supposed to mean. And now, thanks to Substack, I’ve added writing to my creative endeavors, sharing my journey and connecting with others who feel the pull of their own dormant dreams.

The joy I’ve found since embracing this life is striking. Sure, I felt moments of joy as a wife and mother, but this is different. It’s a daily, steady joy that comes from knowing I am living in alignment with the dream my soul planted in my mind as a child.

It took more than 60 years to get here, but I am endlessly grateful I did. This is at the very top of my daily gratitude list—every single day.

Now, I want to share this joy. I want to reach more women who feel the same pull I did—the quiet, persistent call of a dream they’ve delayed for too long.

On January 25, I’ll be releasing a workbook and meditation guide to help you bring your dreams into focus and take actionable steps toward them. Whether your dream is to paint, write, travel, or simply feel alive again, this is for you.

I am the princess, queen, and kind of my own little kingdom. And I want the same for you—on your terms, according to your dream.

The time to reclaim your dream is now. The joy waiting on the other side is worth it.

Warmly,
Monica