Keeping The Lights On Over Here
There’s something new on my website—maybe you’ve noticed. I’ve added a contribution page.
Before anyone assumes anything, let me be clear about what it is. It’s not pressure. It’s not obligation. And it’s not a performative plea for help.
It’s support.
Over the past while, I’ve been building something from the ground up—my writing, my podcast, my storytelling, my healing work and my voice.
Truth Serum didn’t appear out of nowhere. It came out of years of survival, recovery, open-heart surgery, identity collapse, rebuilding, and finding my way back to myself.
Everything I create takes time, energy, emotional labour, and intention. And I’ve chosen to keep most of it accessible, open, and free because I believe in the power of people hearing these conversations without restriction.
But I’ve also learned something along the way—creation takes resources too. Subscriptions, Word, data storage, website renewals, podcast tools, and all the behind-the-scenes systems that keep everything running aren’t always visible, but they’re part of what makes it possible.
The last few years have been spent recovering, rebuilding, and finding my footing again.
None of this started as a passion project.
It started because I had stories living inside me that refused to stay there. The trauma wanted out. Writing became the place where all of it could go.
What began as a way to survive turned into a blog, a memoir, a podcast, and a platform dedicated to telling the truths many people carry in silence. And as it continues to grow, so do the costs of keeping it alive.
The truth is, I need to keep the lights on. From day one, I’ve carried the cost of building all of this myself, and if I’m being honest, I’m surprised I’ve managed to do it for as long as I have.
There comes a point where growth requires support, and I’ve reached that point.
So I added a contribution page for anyone who has felt something here and wants to support it continuing.
Whether you’ve read my book, listened to the podcast, shared it with someone, or simply felt seen by parts of my story, this is a way for support to come back in if you choose it.
No pressure and no expectation. Just appreciation.
I don’t take lightly that people are listening. That people are connecting. That something I once lived in silence is now being heard.
And if you choose to contribute, you’re not just supporting content—you’re helping make continued storytelling, truth-telling, and the building of something still unfolding possible.
Either way, I’m grateful you’re here.
This continues—quietly or loudly. It continues.
I’m not done yet.
—Jaye
Link:
