A decade has passed since my book Breathe: A True Story About Marriage, Faith, and Attempted Suicide was first released. Looking back, I see the arc of my journey in new and complex ways. Breathe was never just a book—it was a piece of my soul, raw and vulnerable, laid bare for the world to see. Sharing my story, shaped by trauma, resilience, and faith, felt like stepping off a cliff into the unknown. I believed then, as I do now, that stories can heal, connect, and inspire. Yet, the years that followed the book’s release brought lessons I could not have anticipated.
The events chronicled in Breathe were not the end of my trials. Publishing the book introduced new challenges, with fresh trauma layered onto old wounds. Entrusting my story to others was a leap of faith, and unfortunately, that trust was misplaced. The person who once represented my book, Richard Tate, was later convicted of crimes including embezzlement and fraud, and his publishing company shut down. Meanwhile, I was left to navigate the financial and emotional fallout of my publishing experience alone. The betrayal of trust left scars that took years to confront and even longer to begin healing.
Trauma, as I’ve learned, is rarely linear or confined to a single event. It reverberates, amplifying when we least expect it. My silence over the past ten years was born of the exhaustion that comes from being repeatedly knocked down. Yet, I’ve discovered that healing comes in waves, and the time to reclaim my story is now. By revisiting Breathe, I am not only reclaiming my voice but also honoring the person I was and the growth that has shaped me since.
This second edition reflects who I was at the time I wrote the book. Like most people, my beliefs and perspectives have evolved over the years. While Breathe was written through the lens of unwavering faith and a deep conviction that everything happens for a reason, I no longer see life in such absolutes. I’ve wrestled with the notion that all things—even tragedy—are part of a divine plan. While I still believe in the presence of God and the significance of faith, I’ve come to understand that not everything has to happen for a reason. Fires consume homes, leaving devastation in their wake, and it is neither kind nor true to frame every spared house as an act of divine favor. Life is far more nuanced than that.
This edition serves as a cautionary tale about faith unchecked by wisdom. Faith is powerful, but when it dismisses reason, ignores warnings, or silences intuition, it can become dangerous. My journey has taught me that faith and critical thinking are not opposites—they are meant to coexist. God gave us the capacity for discernment, and we honour God when we use it.
This book remains an important story, not because I have all the answers but because it reflects the complexity of human experience. It’s a testament to the strength we find when we are broken, the beauty in searching for meaning, and the courage it takes to rebuild after loss. It is also a reminder to proceed with caution when navigating the delicate interplay between faith, emotion, and decision-making. To have faith is not to ignore the world around us but to engage with it thoughtfully, humbly, and compassionately.
To those who find themselves standing at the edge of the unknown, wondering if they have the strength to leap, know this: your journey is yours to take, and your timeline is yours to honor. Healing has no deadline. Growth has no expiration date. Reclaiming your voice is a journey, not a race. May this second edition of Breathe remind you that your story matters, your voice is worthy, and you are strong enough to rise again.
In hope,
Shawna Percy