Dear Unsealers,

Although we may not know each other, we both may know the familiar sting of disappointment, fear, and uncertainty. I want to share a story of a time when I gave up on something that I cherished. The good news is that only lasted a few months and now I have vowed to keep on my journey until I get to my goal.

Last year (and the first half of 2024) was one of the hardest periods in my life. I wasn’t satisfied with my “good job”, hated my apartment, didn’t have time to do the things I loved, walked on eggshells in my three-year relationship, felt unappreciated by friends/family, and didn’t find joy in life. I wondered when my life would reach where I wanted it to be; I felt like I was doing what everyone else expected of me. 2023 marked ten years since I began writing my first novel; that meant a decade went by and I was still left with an unfinished manuscript. I felt like a failure and accepted that maybe writing wasn’t my calling. This wasn’t easy to come to terms with. I felt like I was losing my identity just trying to survive. The pressure and self-doubt caused me to spiral. My depression left me in an unimaginative mindset which took away my motivation to write. When I tried to write I would often come up short. The thing I cared about most was now another chore.
An unexpected breakup, on the day after Valentine’s Day, reminded me of the reasons I started writing in the first place. Writing is a problem-solving mechanism, a safe space to communicate the things I was too scared to say, and a way to transform my hurt into something beautiful. As an overly loyal, people-pleaser who just wanted love, I was crushed in that moment but as a writer, I couldn’t help but appreciate a crazy plot twist. All those negative things that made me feel unlucky turned out to be a blessing. Strangely the pain helped me get through my case of writer’s block and got me back on track! With that mental clarity, I was also reminded of the little girl caught in an ongoing socio-economic tornado who dreamed of the life I currently have with an income that is enough to cover the bills, enough food for three meals a day with the option of snacks, and electricity/hot water all year around. She fell in love with books and started writing poems because words were able to take her to as many places as she wanted without leaving her bedroom. Her literary skills made her feel in control even when a situation left her powerless because she knew she could come up with a solution to any problem. Reading kept hope in her heart and taught her patience.

My younger self inspires me to continue to hope for better days. I mean it worked once, so it can probably happen again. I will continue sharing my poetry with the world and working towards my goals with or without validation. Just a year ago I wouldn’t be able to write a letter like this nor have the confidence to enter a contest. I am grateful for my progress and welcome the journey with open arms. Life is like a good book in a way; you never know how the story ends until you finish the book. Although that doesn’t guarantee a happy ending, it doesn’t rule one out either. This is a sign to finish your story (life) and read (live) on to see what the next chapter brings.

Compared my success to others which is self-destructive,
My accomplishments felt like I did a whole bunch of nothing,
Could barely function, tried my hardest to discuss it,
The words wouldn’t flow, out my mouth nor on paper,
The fire that kept my engine burning is on vacation,
Realized I was falling apart, I just needed a break and,
Without any notice, she was back better than imagined,
After all, hope was stored inside of me like an emergency fund under the mattress.