Walking the stage Summa Cum Laude was a moment of deep reflection, joy, and purpose—a signal that this story is far from over.
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Walking the stage Summa Cum Laude was a moment of deep reflection, joy, and purpose—a signal that this story is far from over.
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These haunting portraits of an EMT grappling with invisible wounds give voice to the untold stories behind the sirens, where pain, duty, and silence collide.
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Memoir writing is more than memory—it’s a journey of healing. By telling our mental health stories in scenes, we create connection, meaning, and transformation.
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We don’t talk about what we see. Not really. We joke, we deflect, we survive. But The Quiet After the Sirens is about what happens when the silence breaks.
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The first of May rises not just with spring’s fragile bloom but with the tremble of a war drum echoing deep within my chest. Today marks the beginning of Mental Health Awareness Month, and for those like me—those who wear their wounds beneath the skin …
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“Book banning is control disguised as protection. From the Index to today’s laws, the fight for FREADom is a battle for every generation.”
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In The Quiet After the Sirens, Richard White—poet, veteran, and former EMS Lieutenant—offers an unflinching look at the silent battles that follow service. From the scorching deserts of Iraq to the heart-wrenching stillness of 911 calls, White confronts the toll of trauma, exposing the weight of PTSD, depression, and anxiety with raw vulnerability and unwavering honesty.
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There’s a silence most people never hear.
It’s not peace—it’s the sound after the sirens, when the adrenaline fades and the ghosts start talking.
After years in the military, fire service, and EMS, I came to know that silence too well. It isn’t quiet. It’s noise turned inward.
In that space, the heart races, the mind replays trauma, and the spirit aches under the weight of it all.
Crowded rooms became unbearable. Joy felt dangerous. And I couldn’t sit still without my hands shaking.
But healing began when I finally stopped running and listened to that silence. I learned to name the things I feared. I started writing again.
This memoir, The Quiet After the Sirens, is a testament to survival—not just in the field, but in the stillness that follows.
It’s about carrying the weight, honoring the ghosts, and learning how to breathe again.
If you’ve ever known that kind of silence, this story is for you too.
By @RWhiteAuthor For today’s NaPoWriMo prompt, I wanted to capture the haunting weight of sound in stillness. Inspired by the way fog distorts noise and reshapes perception, this poem leans into rhyme and the echo of a singular, specific sound: the distant clang of an old …
Read MoreBy @RWhiteAuthor As March comes to a close, so does this incredible journey through March of the Writers. For 31 days, we’ve explored our passions, reflected on our inspirations, shared our challenges, and celebrated our writing lives. Each day has been a new opportunity to …
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