Draped in Liberation: The Venice Red Dress Story

An Excerpt from Book 2- Rising From The Ashes: The Healing Power Of Becoming

Some stories are not written in journals or typed on keyboards—they are lived, breathed, and remembered in colour.

And sometimes, that colour is red.

There are moments in life when you know you are walking into something sacred. Not because anyone told you, not because the timing makes sense, but because your soul recognizes the shift before your mind catches up.

Venice was that moment for me.

A city rising from the tides.
A survivor made of stone, water, and centuries of storms.
A place that carries beauty and brokenness in the same breath—just like I do.

I didn’t go to Venice searching for healing.
I went because something inside me whispered: It is time.

Time to reclaim.
Time to breathe.
Time to become.

And all of it began with a red dress.

The Red Dress

Before the trip, the red dress was a whimsical dream. A flowing gown against an old-world backdrop—something elegant, romantic, a symbol of boldness. I had seen the photos taken in Santorini and Paris, but I wanted something different. Something me. Venice. Because Venice, like me, had endured the tides. Because Venice, like me, had survived. As I wore that dress—its vibrant crimson fabric sweeping behind me through alleyways and bridges—I didn’t feel like I was playing dress-up. I felt like I was stepping fully into who I am.

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Why the Red Dress?

Because I’ve survived loss—deep, soul-wrenching loss. A fiancé taken too soon. A brother and best friend lost to cancer. Betrayal. Abuse. Fires—literal and emotional. And I kept walking. Wounded. Weary. But never destroyed. The dress was more than fabric. It was fire. It was healing. It was me—draped in resilience. As I posed in front of ancient palazzos and gazed over the bridges, I wasn’t just marking a moment—I was claiming my place. Declaring my worth. Owning my strength. Saying aloud, through every photo: I have walked through flames, and I have become anyway. ________________________________________

A Love Letter to Myself and to Venice The photo shoot became a love letter—not only to this breathtaking city, but to myself. The woman who fought through grief and chaos, and chose joy. The woman who found her rhythm again in the heartbeat of another culture. Venice gave me permission to feel again. To slow down. To stand still and listen to the music of my own becoming. And that quote—my soul’s whisper—was born from that moment: “Like Venice rising from the tides, I am a masterpiece of resilience—scarred but beautiful, strong yet graceful, and unapologetically enough. I am the red dress, flowing boldly through the winds of my story, a testament to the fire I’ve walked through and the woman I’ve become.” ________________________________________

That evening, as the sun set over the canals and lanterns cast golden trails across the water, I stood on the palace balcony and knew—this wasn’t just another trip. This was transformation. And this city, this dress, this moment… Would live in me forever.

REFLECTION — What the Red Dress Really Means

This wasn’t about permission.
This wasn’t about waiting for anyone to validate who I was becoming.

Venice didn’t grant me anything.
I claimed it.

I took ownership of my story—every chapter, every scar, every storm—just as she owns hers.

Because like the cracks in her ancient stone walls, the weathered facades, the salt-worn pillars… the beauty wasn’t despite the decay.
The beauty was because of it.

Those cracks held centuries of survival.
They whispered strength.
They revealed resilience.

And in that, I saw myself.

Venice stood there—elegantly decayed, strikingly beautiful, perfectly imperfect—
and I felt a spiritual connection that went deeper than words.
It was more than a city.
It was a mirror.

A reflection not only of my life, but of so many of us who have walked through chaos, heartbreak, trauma, and rebuilding—and somehow still stand with grace.

Venice reminded me to see the beauty in all of it.
To breathe deeply into the soul of who I was becoming.
To honour the story that shaped me.
To rise from the tides with steadiness and strength.

And the red dress?
She became the exhale my soul had been waiting for.

She let me express the beauty inside—the boldness born from pain, the fire born from loss, the courage gathered from every hardship that tried to break me.

So if you’ve ever wondered, dear reader…

Should you take the trip?
Should you wear the red dress?

The answer is unapologetically yes.

Wear the dress.
Take the photos.
Develop them.
Frame them.
Put them on your walls.
Make them your book covers if you want.

Not for vanity.
But for remembrance.

A reminder of your becoming.
A reminder that you are divinely designed.
A reminder that God doesn’t make mistakes.

And you—my dear Queen—
need to place the crown on your head,
book the palace,
and step fully into the woman you already are:

Powerful.
Purposeful.
Appointed.
Anointed.
Becoming.

Rising from the Ashes: The Healing Power Of Becoming is available now on Amazon Link – https://bit.ly/BecomeAnyway