In the moment I share the stage with you, a man amongst the ruins of personality and beauty. Your words inspire me, the qualities of a man that I climb the ladders of ancestry and slowly achieve this image you see. A brave man who stepped into his skin, exhibiting scars of times when processing your riddles of masculinity was a mystery. A formidable opponent where it would take decades of pruning for me to finally grow a sturdy garden of belief. And yet you carried me a seed to term and watered me with wisdom and love In the soils where nothing returns. I’m grateful for you graduating in your class of life my gratitude shakes the core of my soul. You leave me in physical shock and ache for your eyes closed to the stars of cancer as they pinch the life away from you into the emotional sea’s of heaven.
Shine bright star of stars, and shine bright your dreams into mines. So elder star in the sky reuniting the DNA inside. Collect the God in you and rain down the ideal of your life.

I’m not a robot
I wasn’t made to spew facts over feelings
I feel freely and deeply
I cannot deny my experiences and my story
I have a story that people may know nothing about
There is no formula or algorithm to predict what and how intense I will feel.
I just do.
So mind what you say and do
Because you’ve never walked a mile in my shoes

I’m not a scarecrow full of stuffing and no brain
I know when I am not being respected
I know when there is not an equal exchange of time, energy, effort, and love being given
I know when love is being withheld.
I have learned the difference between tough love and blatant disrespect under the guise of tough love
My brain on the best of days tells me of my worth
My brain on the worst of days may try to lie to me
But that does not change the truth
And the truth is that I deserve to be invested in
I am worth people’s time, energy, effort, and love.
And I will settle for nothing less.

I’m not a tin woman
I have a heart
It beats, it breaks, it bleeds
It can shatter, it can also be stitched up
It is a treasure
Only those who are worthy of it can hold it
But it shines for all to see
Those who approach it must learn to honor it
For they would want theirs to be received in gentleness and love
Just as I do.

I’m not a cowardly lion anymore.
I have found my courage.
And if you disrespect me you will hear me roar
I will roar loudly and mightily for what I deserve
I will no longer tolerate disrespect
I will be my own hero.

I’m not a lot of things
But I am a human
I am a daughter of the King
I had dignity and worth from the moment of my birth
And that will never change
So regardless of how you perceive me
With the utmost respect is how you should receive me.

I want to say I remember the exact date. I do not; however, that does not take the meaning, luster, or any other adjective to describe the importance of this day away.

I was a sophomore in college and still was having trouble finding a friend who truly made me feel comfortable talking about my cerebral Palsy. I felt that until I explained it, I would not have that authentic friendship I so desired.

Anyway, I believe it was a gloomy day in September or October at Mitchell College in New London, CT.

I remember it like it was yesterday —- which is saying something because the story starts with me on the phone with my mom — it probably was the 1000 time I talked to her that day. Still, this time was unlike the rest: she called, and I did not moan and groan about how much work I had to do; instead, she asked me what I was doing.

It was probably four p.m., and I was lying in bed sleeping to mask my anxiety about making friends. I said, “Nothing.” “Well, what can you do?” She asked. Then, in a voice of trepidation, I said:

“The basketball team is holding a clinic for Special Olympics CT.

I did not want to go because — though I would be volunteering — I did not want to be associated with individuals whose disabilities are apparen, as I told myself that I did not have friends because of the way I walk.

After the event, everyone was given Pizza. I took mine and scarfed it down because I probably had not eaten all day due to my anxiety.

While eating as fast as I could, I choked, and this player on the school team offered me his drink. I eventually stopped choking, and we sat on the gym steps for hours, talking about life and basketball.

After explaining to him how my Cerebral affects me, he said, “Do me a favor; we are not going to refer to it as a disability; we are going to refer to it as an OPPORTUNITY!

I must have looked at him as if a bear was attacking me. Still, about six years later, I am grateful that I have learned that I have an OPPORTUNITY to impact people using my disability POSITIVELY.

In the center of a classroom, where quietness emerges,
Upon a platform of education, a narrative is being shared.
A quiver in my voice, a tremor in my spirit,
A journey away from familiarity, towards a distant objective.

A cloud of nervousness, a cloak of unease,
A stumble in my speech, oh, so evident.
A sentence felt like a demise, words difficult to guide,
Reflecting upon myself through their eyes.

Shadows of judgment, perhaps real, perhaps not,
An inner turmoil, a daunting idea.
My words, they stumble, they hesitate, they fought,
Yet in this struggle, a noble lesson is learned.

Each syllable a challenge, each pause a difficult situation,
In the depths of uncertainty, I search for guidance.
A multitude of faces, a dizzying height,
Nevertheless, I stand firm, prepared to confront.

The sound of laughter, the whisper of sighs,
An unspoken poem of quiet despair.
Yet amidst the chaos, a mythical bird resides,
From the remains of fear, bravery will arise.

I stumble, I stutter, yet I proceed,
In the face of adversity, a victory indeed.
For it’s not in perfection that heroes are bred,
But in the tireless spirit that refuses to concede.

The words may not flow, as smooth as the breeze,
But every stutter is a step, every pause is a tease.
In the heart of the struggle, I find my ease,
For in the echo of my voice, I’m learning to seize.

So here I am, beneath the scrutinizing sun,
My journey of self-discovery has just begun.
A stuttering start, a war not yet won,
Yet, in every spoken word, I find myself spun.

A daunting task, a fearsome trial,
Yet every struggle is worthwhile.
For in the silence of my speech, there lies a smile,
A testament of courage, crossing the mile.

So though my voice may waver, and words may fray,
I rise from my ashes, in the light of day.
For it’s not the eloquence, but what I say,
That truly matters at the end of the day.

Oftentimes the best opportunities have the strangest beginnings. This invitation to step out of my comfort zone is no different. It started with a meeting invite labeled “employee evaluation” coming into my inbox. Panic gripped me. I work hard, I do what I am supposed to, and I manage my many responsibilities to the best of my ability so in theory I should have nothing to fear, however anxiety and imposter syndrome make employee evaluations seem like imminent doom. So tearful and fearful I went into my evaluation. To my surprise it didn’t go the way I was expecting. My boss offered me a summer missionary position for a catechetical program called Totus Tuus. I had less than a week to decide how my summer would look.

I had applied for this position in 2018, but was not chosen. Things were simpler then, I thought. Now I had an apartment to take care of, rent and bills that needed to be paid, and I was in the middle of looking for a new roommate as my old roommate had recently moved out. As with many things I brought it to prayer. The words that came to mind were affirming that I should accept this position. My mind and heart were filled with the words of Mary in Luke’s gospel “Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord; be it done unto me according to your word.”

Still trying to discern I told my mom about the opportunity thinking that her practical side would find some reason not to accept it. But I was shocked to find that she was agreeable to it and was willing to work with me to make it happen. With that I decided to say “yes” even though I had no idea what I was saying “yes” to.

Training began and it became a little clearer as to what a typical day would look like. But still I had no idea the extent to which God would stretch and grow me throughout my time as a Totus Tuus missionary. After a commissioning ceremony it was time to go out to our first parish and to teach the children about the kerygma (first proclamation of the Gospel) and salvation history (all the events that lead to Jesus coming into the world and saving us through His death and resurrection….in summation the whole Bible) and the sorrowful mysteries of the rosary. What a tall order for just one week!

This Totus Tuus program allowed me to be a fool for Christ. I normally work in a very professional setting and so there are certain expectations of how I will act, speak, and even look. This opportunity to be a Totus Tuus missionary allowed me to become more child-like. I learned to not take myself too seriously. I sang songs about bananas while stuffing a banana in my mouth, I pretended that I spent 6 summers at magic camp and pulled flowers out of a top hat after praying for them, I got hit with a water balloon covered in paint. I laughed and I played, and I experienced joy probably more than I ever have before.

Another way that I noticed God stretching me is in my spiritual motherhood. I’m a single woman with no children, but at every parish I felt this overwhelming sense of protectiveness over these children and I found myself asking questions that I imagine that every parent asks themselves on a daily basis:

Do they know that I love them? How have I made that visible to them today?
Do they know how much God loves them?
What is it that I needed to know at their age and how do I share that with them?
Is this moment a learning moment or do they just need someone to empathize with them?

As the weeks went on I found my spiritual motherhood growing in a way that it hadn’t before. I found myself tending to scraped knees with band-aids, working to mend hurting hearts through having honest conversations with the children and sharing a bit of my own story with them, I found myself each day just loving them with a profound love and delighting in them. This profound sense of motherhood also opened me up to my daughterhood. I came to realize that in the same way that I had delighted in these children, God (my Father) had always delighted in me.

Another thing that Totus Tuus taught me was healthy detachment. We spent only one week at each of the five parishes we were assigned to. In that one week as mentioned above I came to know and love the children we were teaching. I’ve never been good at letting go….for crying out loud my first and last name combined spells “hang on.” It was rough having to leave them but I also knew that I had to trust that God would water the seeds that had been planted that week. Also, it was always in the back of my mind that this might be my only opportunity to be a Totus Tuus missionary so I couldn’t let my identity be defined by my position or what I was doing because in the end it was a temporary gig. Again I was free to lean into my own daughterhood.

Looking back I realize how Totus Tuus was also an invitation to be vulnerable and to be honest with my teammates about my wounds and to be honest with myself about where I am in the healing process. I ended up sharing with my team about my mental health issues and about my triggers. I had been so afraid to open up to them as we had only just met each other several weeks earlier. But when I shared I was met with love and compassion; I was met where I was. One of my teammates even went so far as to come up with another handshake because she knew that fist bumps trigger me. There were a few challenging moments where some triggers were brought up unknowingly by the people we were ministering to and in those moments, I was faced with my own brokenness and was prompted to ask God for healing of these deep wounds. This honesty has continued even after Totus Tuus has ended. I recently shared with my team members that I am praying a certain prayer for my healing for 54 days and each of my team members is joining me in praying this prayer for the entire 54 days. It has been so beautiful how this experience of community has invited me to be honest about my struggles and how they have rallied around me in them and have interceded for me.

Totus Tuus was one of the best “yeses” that I’ve ever said. I have grown so much in my identity as a daughter of God, in my friendships, in vulnerability and in my leadership skills. So I challenge you dear reader if you are at a crossroads trying to decide between pursuing a good opportunity or not don’t decide based off your comfort zone. Instead ask yourself “what could happen if I say yes?” And then trust that God has a plan better than you could ever imagine.

It is true that the best opportunities have the strangest beginnings, and it is also true that the steps we take out of our comfort zone, the “yeses” we say while trusting God often produce an abundance of growth. Be not afraid.

I have dreamed forever about moving forward with my writing career.
There were many different times in my life that writing got me through the pot holes and broken hearts, but somewhere in between different life lessons started to dim my voice and little by little, I gave up and decided to take a different path. My college major was assigned and I became engulfed in Psychology. After all, the world would always need my expertise and empathy. I had life skills to add to the process and my own obstacles that I was trying to navigate but I knew that I was going to get that degree. I was SO wrong.
As classes came and went I started to feel like each day was the same thing, same lectures, same people and the homework? Don’t even get me started on the 20 plus page essays that my brain started to struggle to complete. I had always wanted to help others, but my heart was just not in the classes. I started to slowly daze off in class and at the ticking of the large white and black clock on the wall became the most annoying sound. The other students were almost always arguing and debating creating a not so zen environment for my PTSD. I had do to something. I was paying a fortune for these classes, but I didn’t see or feel a future for myself. I ended my college career that semester. I immediately felt like a failure and started to slowly give up on everything. I lost my zest for life and spent most days sleeping while my kids were in school. A visit to my Dr would later show a diagnosis of permanent and untreatable depression from a closed head injury that I had a few years back from domestic violence.
Tests down the road would also bring about a major life change. I was diagnosed with a TBI.
I had a permanent bruise on my brain. All I could do was move forward with the physical therapy and counseling. I was shattered when they told me I likely would need to be put into learning disabled assistance if I decided to return to college. After the realization that I was going to need a bit of extra assistance in my classes, I ended my dreams officially of finishing my degree.
Fast forward to trying to hold down two jobs and deal with an emergency with my three children I had to leave employment. My head was spinning. Thoughts racing and I was always on the go. I carried a notebook in my car and would jot down little clusters of thoughts as they would come to me in moments of quiet reflection. ( That notebook was later lost in a move) Strike 3… You’re out!
There was an ache in my heart but never a good time to start writing again. The negative thoughts were always there. You can’t write, you couldn’t even make it through college. He was right, you’re stupid and going nowhere with life- You’re writing is not as good as the professional writers out there… We all know that voice. The one that laughs at us and tells us we are not good enough. The echo of anger and of self doubt was ALWAYS there.
Then, one night, scrolling through my phone I found the ad. I hit the follow button and went on with my every day things. Each night, I would go to that page on Instagram .You guessed it! This one. I clicked through the profile and decided to reach out VIA direct message.
The first conversation went something like this.
“Hello, are you a legit person?” I hit the send and anxiously waited a response. It was only a few seconds and Lauren messaged me back. I asked so many questions. My heart wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready. 5.00 was the minimum monthly payment and I made up excuses each time and talked myself out of hitting that join us button.
Until one evening I was on and received a message. “Have you joined us yet?” It was Lauren I told her no and that we didn’t have the 5.00 but that I was still thinking about it.
There was absolutely no pressure. I felt so comfortable with the vibes of The Unsealed and a few days later, in the middle of the night suffering through a bout of flashbacks and anxiety I hit that button. I joined for the minimum and I looked around. It was beautiful. Everything was so pure, so raw and so honest.
At 1:30 am MST I stepped out of my comfort zone and I wrote my first entry. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of my chest. I was home. I was safe to write out things that I had held in for years and there were others just like myself. We were a group of people that all survived different life obstacles and traumas and we were all in a way connected. I have never looked back and try to write now whenever I get the chance. Lauren and the Unsealed family have helped me heal and find my voice again. I couldn’t have done it if I had not taken that first tiny step out of my comfort zone and for that, I am so grateful.
Thank you to all of you, for helping me through this last few months.
My lips have finally become unsealed.

Dear Retro Me,

Let me begin by expressing my deep concern and pondering over the path we have taken. It seems as though the memories of who I envisioned you to be have slipped away from my grasp. It’s as if I find myself trapped in a moment of profound sadness and confusion, finding solace only in the bittersweet realm of reminisce, where thoughts of you become reminiscent of the ill-fated love story of Romeo and Juliet.

In this contemplative state, I question the purpose behind this toxic love that urges us to end it all, but for what reason? Can I truly comprehend how to handle our relationship, my beloved? It seems that in my endeavor to provide you with what you desire, I have inadvertently denied you of what you truly need, direction. Perhaps my actions and the choices I made have left you with a sense of melancholy, causing you to move on from me by the time this letter reaches you. I roll around, unable to shake off the sadness that my words, laced with regret, impose upon you.

You, my dear, embody the quintessential muse, yearning to break free from the shackles of my ignorance. Yet, it is the stubbornness and pride of a scared man that keeps your exquisite beauty hidden from the world, denying them the privilege of beholding your magnificence. In my denial of the reality I have created, I question whether the love I have entangled us in is truly what we deserve, or if it is overshadowed by the responsibility I carry as a person. Sometimes, I find myself revering my concepts as if they were a separate entity from you, failing to acknowledge that your existence is a testament to my own creation and influence. It seems that the laws and expectations I have imposed upon you fall on ears that have become deaf to the significance they once held.

I feel ashamed for what I attributed to you is nearly impossible for me to reach and grasp a hold of. Dearly beloved you are the greatest achievement one can possibly attain, and I have always been a foot or two behind your shadow. Reaching for the acknowledgment of your presence in my heart’s ambitions, yet I have sunken deep within the pool of potentiality. Never to answer the old question of will I ascend to be the Superman I created in my childhood dreams?

If you still here in this present moment reading this letter answer me. Please give me the wisdom that a man needs to surrender.

Love always,
The outer you to present you

Why am I worthy of the utmost respect?
This can only be answered with a short summary that is very emotional.
I was an unwanted, and unexpected baby, born to a young mother that didn’t really want to be a mother. I’m told that my mother left me in wet diapers, that burned my sensitive baby skin with urine. I’m told that she left me crying and did not meet my emotional needs. This was proven to be the case.
I was bounced around and handed over to anyone that would take care of me and to many that didn’t.
Due to this, I was unable to form bonds, or form healthy connections to others because I didn’t feel safe. That’s the easy and less painful way to put it into words. I never believed that I had a purpose. Until my grandparents decided that enough was enough. I’m told that my grandfather saw something special in me, and that he believed that I could break the family cycle if he were to take custody of me. That my friends was the beginning of the rest of my young life. It wasn’t easy growing up in a very broken environment. I have been in therapy since I was 4. Unfortunately, I had to do some of it with a very detached mother. At that point, one starts to realize that they have to protect themselves. That they have to be strong. Also, that they are worthy of love. It’s not easy at all, in fact, it’s one of the loneliest battles to fight. My best friends became my stuffed animals in my bedroom and each day I would line them up in my room and ask them how we could solve the problems of the day. A bad visit with my mother? Check! I was a bad girl today. Check. I didn’t know which end was up many days because my decisions were made for me in court by a judge. I had to have the visits that would lead me deeper into the spiral of self confusion and insecurities.
I spent most of my young life trying to gain the approval of my mother. Instead, I became her biggest disappointment which she would almost always let me know. Michelle, why can’t you be more like your sister. You’re such a wimp. Such a cry baby, overly sensitive etc. Her words burned into my heart and I couldn’t quite figure out how I was so different from others. Generational Trauma is real. Also known as generational curses. Breaking that cycle is very hard. I fought for years. I fawned, and I tried to be the image of what my mother wanted me to be. I am now 45 years old, and both my grandfather, and my mother have passed away. I lost my mother in 2019 and we were estranged at the time of her passing. When all of the painful memories start to rest their ugly heads it is my Grandma who encourages me now. She supports me and when I cry to her, I tell her I feel as if I am just floating here on earth, it is her words that keep me going. I no longer float along this life because I know that I was born to fly. We all deserve respect. We are all worthy of love. We are all beautiful hearts and our purpose is to try uplift the broken. To love the unloved. To encourage the hopeless and to help others accept who they are with no judgement.
That my friends makes me worthy of the utmost respect. The journey that I have fought through the last 45 years.
*Hopefully this writing makes sense and touches souls.
Trauma has taught this woman that she deserves nothing more than 100% respect. We all deserve the utmost respect.

Shelle Belle

As the sun sets and the centerpiece finds its place, we contemplate: where do we, in our differences, stand? Vibrations of our imperfections magnify, birthing expressions of distrust and anger, like flowers flourishing in the harshest conditions.

Yet, firm we stand, forging a bridge of verbal cues, a path where misunderstandings are not barriers, but stepping stones to compassion. In the face of disagreement, I nurture the tender seedling of respect.

We gather, our words painting ideals that soothe the soul’s unrest. Hands reach out, meanings intertwine, and in the midst of it, we welcome a vibrant spirit of life.

We strike the match of observation, and in our symphony, the merging respect hums a keynote. A song carried on the winds by the mature muse of mothers, giving life to images that often stand as concepts. We act in unity, living out the meanings of these actions, even when they diverge from our own.

In time, I earn your trust. The understanding light in the eyes of my peers, peeking into my perspective of wisdom, nourishes the garden of respect, cultivating gratitude on the vibrant leaves of our shared journey.

Does this resonate with the respect I’ve earned? Through engaging dialogues and shared experiences, respect becomes my emblem, not for agreement, but for understanding. This garden, a testament to seeds sowed with patience and empathy, is my deserved sanctuary. Even when our views diverge, respect bridges the gap, a testament to the power of understanding over agreement.

“Discovering Faith, True Beauty and Confidence”

During and After Cancer

Without questioning, this is how I conquered through my diagnosis of cancer, not once, but twice. Without questioning, when going through a serious illness, you learn to know what faith truly is, along with finding the true meaning of beauty and how you really feel about yourself. I know this all too well because I have experienced many trials and tribulations in my life. Through it all, I gained strength that I never knew I had, and much more confidence in myself, which led me to loving myself all over again. I had a new beginning, all on my own.

After going through so much in my life, things were going well, until it happened. I had a head-on collision with not only breast cancer, but colon cancer as well, and it changed my entire outlook on life. I thought I had endured rough years before but going through cancer was the rest of the iceberg. There is nothing like it. You wonder, what in life had you done so wrong to have this placed upon you. You began asking, why me. Yet through my tragedies and all that I had to endure, it all became an awakening for me, in which I received and gained all the strength and encouragement I needed to conquer. Through it all, not only did I find the true meaning of life, I found the true meaning of beauty. Through all the chemo, radiation, the pain I endured, I still felt beautiful. I found myself looking in the mirror even more during this time, because I thought what I was dealing with would change me drastically, but as I viewed the imperfections on my body I now must live with, over time it got better, and instead of feeling sorry for myself, I embrace it. I’m still among the living, who am I to complain.

Whether we are dealing with an illness or any other negative feelings about ourselves, our lives, as well as our bodies, we need to be our on-cheering section. Through all my mishaps, I still feel beautiful, and it is real. I have come to realize that even going through such a dark time, I still have a life to be lived, and I am going to live it to the fullest. When I think about the individuals that are no longer among us due to such a horrific disease, I’m truly grateful, and I will no longer take my life for granted. Life is precious, and we don’t realize it until we come close to losing it. When I think of the “gift of life” that was given to me twice over, I knew I did not have a moment to waste. I would never say having or going through cancer is a gift, surviving it, receiving a second and third chance at life, is the gift. Yet, through it all, I did not allow the disease to take away who I am, or what I stand for. I am a survivor, as well as an example to show that it can happen, and that I can go on and look and feel just as beautiful, inside, and out, and it shines brighter.

Yet through my tragedies and all that I had to endure, I received and gained all the strength and encouragement I needed to conquer. I will say that the areas of my body that were interrupted will be a constant reminder I had cancer, and at times, it does bother me at times, I’m human, but within a moment or two, I look past it, because those areas could be covered up. True beauty is within and when you feel beautiful on the inside, it shows so clearly on the outside. Just because I had cancer, does not mean cancer had me. We as women should never allow anything, or any circumstance to steal our joy, nor our self-esteem, even while cancer is taking you through many emotions and many unanswered situations. At times you feel black-balled. And I for sure know with cancer, many times you are too weak to even think about your looks, because you’re not always feeling your best, but at times we must try, even a little bit and fight past it and keep living. Through any tragedy, we are and always will be beautiful and unique! Women, we all know that our bodies take lickings, yet we keep on ticking.

When I look back now and see how far I’ve came, I have to say, I thought right away that my cancer diagnoses were truly a death sentence, because you’re not sure if you’re going to make it. Cancer has taught me not to blink twice on life, my eyes are wide open, living my best life. I also realized after surviving cancer both times, that I was about to face new beginnings, new hope, do and see more with a whole new perspective on life. I share my story with others hoping to make a positive impact on someone who is ill or otherwise, where they can proceed life in a whole new way. I am 66yrs of age now, and I am cherishing each day, each moment, and through it all, I feel that I’m at my best. I am confident in myself, as well as grateful. I am starting over, doing things I should have done before cancer.

One day, after one of the many surgeries I had during my breast cancer period, and I could remember it as if it was yesterday, I experienced something so real, so peaceful, something of a miracle, that I had to write it down. I turned that experience into a poem, and I called it “Peace”. I took that poem, along with many others I had written, writing had become therapy for me. I am hoping that anyone who may have the opportunity to read my poems, gets out of them, what I placed in them, they are as real as poems could ever be. My most recently published book is titled, “Cancer, Yet Cancer Again, but I will not Die, before I’m Dead”. I titled it that, because I truly feel that you should not stop living, because you have cancer, and that is exactly what I almost did. I heard the word cancer, and my immediate thought was, that’s it. I am a realist, a regular everyday woman, who have overcome many obstacles, which took me to writing, trying to produce inspirational stories. If I had not gone through all that I did, I would have never anticipated such.

The scars and mishaps that are now attached to my body due to cancer, are just that. They are symbols for someone else’s inspiration and hope. I am thankful, because if I had not struggled, I would not have found my true strengths. Not allowing anything to stop me. I am a true example that you can survive cancer, not once, but twice, providing you get to it in time. I am not saying all will be easy, I am not saying all will survive it, what I am saying, is to have faith, fight with all you have, then hold on. I honestly believe, when and if you survive a horrific tragedy or a horrible disease such as cancer, it is for a reason. You have a purpose, and through that purpose, faith, compassion and strength, true beauty is born.

Thank You,
Karen Rice/x2 Cancer Survivor
Author

Dearest Shelle Belle,
I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself. You’re learning and moving forward making the best of each new day. It’s 1993 and you have entered into the next stages of your life. Your music selection is a wide variety of artists, which speaks volumes of who you are. As you walk down the graffiti tagged streets of Denver you hold your head high even though the environment around you feels unsafe and scary, you keep pushing forward with your dreams. These streets will never break you. You have so much to accomplish. Follow your dreams. Be your own hero. Keep moving forward. They tried to dim your light when they assaulted you, but you pushed through. You never gave in. You never gave up, and for that my friend you grew into the beautiful and amazing you. A young mom at 16, just a baby yourself. You continued to grow. I’m proud of you.
For motherhood is tough enough even when one is ready. You took it on. Life stops for no one. Each day a new adventure. Smile, but also honor the tears that you shed when you feel lost in your head. There is clarity ahead. You just have to believe.

Dear teenage self,

Before I go back in time, it’s crucial to recognize your mind was not fully developed yet.

They say things happen for a reason, but…

“If you sit on the bench, you sit on the bench.” It is your fault that I did.

I wish you would have pushed yourself to lift one more “weight” by going to that party. You did not… it’s your fault.

You wanted to tell that girl you liked her. You did not… it’s your fault.

These milestones that I did not hit, yes… it’s your fault!

You did not know any better, but people that I trust tell me it will come at the right time.

I think I am in the right hands – that is me joking about how I can’t use my right hand😂

Anyway, Thank you for forcing me to realize that the bench is too hot, making me move my butt. Because of you, life won’t have as many buts as it once did.

Your inaction is forcing me to take action, and not say “BUT if I did this!” I’m hitting the field now.

Thank you for making me see the GREEN in the grass. Now, I am slowly appreciating the muddy trail you took me on.

As I hit the “field,” from now on, I’m going for two all the time!

Love,

The CURRENT YOU!