Why I’m Publishing My Early Journal Entries
🎧 Prefer to listen? Hear the spoken-word version above.
At first, I didn’t think the early entries mattered.
They weren’t prophetic.
They weren’t downloads from heaven.
They weren’t visions or spiritual insights.
They were raw.
They were messy.
They were the desperate cries of a woman who had lost everything and was trying to make sense of who she was.
Confusion.
Heartbreak.
Rage.
Grief.
Loss.
But now I see it clearly: those entries are part of the scroll.
They were part of the assignment.
They mark the beginning of the unveiling.
Because before the fire came, before the downloads, before the sword was put in my mouth… there was mourning.
There was weeping.
There was stripping away.
There was the pain of identity collapse.
Before the boldness, there was the unearthing of trauma.
Before the thunder, there was the silence of being spiritually malnourished, emotionally sabotaged, and systemically silenced.
Those early entries are my spiritual archaeology.
They are the excavation of a buried life.
I didn’t write them for anyone else.
I wrote them to survive.
But the Lord knew.
He knew those pages would one day become the first chapters of a living testimony.
He knew they would trace the rise of a woman from the ashes,
A woman who would remember who she is.
A woman whose words would one day carry thunder.
So no, I won’t hide them.
I won’t shame the beginning.
I won’t pretend I just woke up one day and became a prophet.
The prophetic mantle didn’t descend in a blaze of glory from a platform.
It found me in the pit.
It was forged in sorrow.
It was woven through grief-stained pages, one raw breath at a time.
This is why I’m publishing the early entries:
Not because they’re polished,
But because they’re true.
Not because they’re glamorous,
But because they’re sacred.
Not because I had all the answers,
But because I was brave enough to ask the questions.
Someone reading this is still in their pit.
Still unraveling.
Still asking: “Who am I now that everything has fallen apart?”
Let these pages be proof that God starts His greatest works in the rubble.
Let them be a breadcrumb trail for the next Daughter of Thunder, still waiting to hear the sound of her own roar.
I honour the woman who wrote those early entries.
I honour the voice that trembled before it thundered.
I honour the beginning.
Because every fire begins with a single spark.
And this…
This is where mine caught flame.
“He gives beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…”
— Isaiah 61:3
If you’re still in your pit… keep reading.
The fire finds us in the rubble.
Let’s rise, together.
This message carries fire. Pass it on. 👇🏻
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Victoria Player is a prophetic voice, spiritual disruptor, and founder of Daughter of Thunder, a Spirit-led movement calling women out of silence and into bold, holy purpose. After walking through fire, loss, and divine reconstruction, she now helps awaken and equip the remnant to recognise their calling and walk in uncompromising truth. Her writing blends raw honesty with revelation, guiding the hidden ones from awakening to assignment.
“I don’t bow to Babylon — I walk with the Lion.” — Daughter of Thunder
