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Coloring Through the Quiet: A Ritual for Anxiety Relief
This post contains affiliate links to products I’ve personally tried or ritualized. If you choose to purchase through them, I may earn a small commission — a gesture that helps sustain Akasha Fiction Studio’s mythic storytelling and reader care.
There are days when words fall short — when the descent is too steep, the thread too frayed. On those days, I reach for something quieter than language: color.
This coloring book has become part of my recovery ritual. It’s not just pages — it’s a space to breathe, to anchor, to let my hands move when my heart feels stuck. My children have watched me color through grief, and sometimes they join me — not to fix anything, but to sit beside the storm.
With over 100 pages of mindful designs, this book invites you to:
- Color through overwhelm
- Reclaim your breath
- Create beauty in the midst of chaos
Whether you’re journaling through or simply trying to stay present, this book offers a quiet companion. No instructions. Just gesture.
As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Every item I share has been curated with care, echoing rituals, comforts, and stories that matter. Your support helps me keep weaving these mythic threads.
Let me know what helps you anchor when anxiety rises. What do your hands reach for when your heart needs rest?
You can email me: info@akashafictionstudio.com
The First Crack
Before there was a plot,
there was a clearing.
A girl.
A silence I couldn’t explain.
The story arrived on the 20th anniversary of my father’s murder— a day that has always carried weight,
and strangely, always sparked my darkest creativity.
I wrote what I thought was the first chapter.
It’s now closer to the end.
Ada was just a name in the margins—
the girl in the clearing, the wolf’s first victim.
No history. No grief.
Elara had a different story then.
Her life shattered by the loss of her mother.
That scene stayed.
But it deepened.
It cracked open.
Now, Ada is the ache.
The echo.
The reason Elara carries so much pain.
This was the first crack.
And it’s spreading.
The Rhythm of the Rewrite
It’s been a journey.
I’m learning to listen—not just to my characters, but to how the story wants to be told.
I think I’ve figured it out…
and then a new idea surfaces.
A new thread pulls me deeper.
And I rewrite.
A lot has changed from my original vision.
But every day, the story grows stronger.
More honest.
More layered.
More true.
This is the rhythm.
This is the rewrite.
This is The Shattered Lives We Lead.
Behind the Scenes: Family Threads in Fiction
As I get closer to sharing The Shattered Lives We Lead with you all, I wanted to let you in on a little secret: Elara and Ada? They’re stitched together from the hearts of my daughters.
Elara’s teenage voice — especially in those raw, emotional scenes — wouldn’t be half as real without my middle daughter.
“Mom, I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t act like that. This is how you should write it.”
She was right. Every time.
The magic of Elara’s childhood — the wonder, the softness, the way she sees the world — that’s all inspired by my youngest girls. And Ada’s quiet strength, her steady presence, her instinct to help even when it’s hard? That’s my older daughters, through and through.
Even the little things made it in. That ever-present pile of clean laundry on the bed (or the floor… or the chair…)? Straight from our real-life chaos. Some truths are universal.
Jake and Marcus reflect the energy and protectiveness of my older son — their loyalty, their drive, their way of showing up when it matters.
Kylar, with his misunderstood quirks, his love of arcade games, and the way he’s bullied for being different — are echos of my younger son. His emotional depth and quiet resilience shaped Kylar’s early chapters in ways I didn’t expect. the heart behind him — the quiet strength, the emotional depth— was shaped by watching my sons grow.
And through it all, my husband has been my anchor. He’s listened to chapters late at night, offered insights when I was stuck, and helped me shape the story into something stronger. He’s the one who gently asked, “Does that really make sense?” or “What if you tried it this way?” — and so often, he was right.
He even told me he dreams of the book after hearing a chapter — that it stays with him. And when I was afraid to publish, afraid to share something so personal, he was the one who said, “It’s really good. I think it’ll do well.” — simple, steady, and exactly what I needed to hear.
When I was afraid to publish, afraid to share something so personal, he reminded me that it was worth sharing.
They’re not reflections. They’re echoes. And their stories live in these pages.
This book is fiction, yes. But it’s also a love letter to the people who’ve shaped me — and to the wild, beautiful mess of family.
Thank you for being here as I get ready to share it with the world. 💛