Dear Mandie,

   I know the pain that you have been carrying around for so long now. I can see the rejection, the abandonment, the lack of self worth and love, and the despair in your eyes. I know that you think that there must be something wrong with you, because no matter how hard you try, it seems that nobody ever loves or accepts you, and you never seem to feel like you fit in anywhere. You spend so much time and energy on being who you think others will like and accept because you just want to feel like you belong somewhere. You have a longing to feel like you are good enough, loved, approved of, and valued that was implanted in you at a very young age and it has caused you a great deal of misery and sadness. I want to share some wisdom with you that can set you free from your despair and open your eyes to a new light.

   I know that from as far back as you can remember you longed for your father to love you unconditionally, to show you attention, and to be proud of you. When your parents divorced, and he moved 14 hrs. away, it put the ultimate feeling of rejection and abandonment deep within your heart. It caused you to feel like you are not good enough, and if your own father doesn’t want you and doesn’t love you enough to stick around, then there is no way that anyone else ever will either. Yet, you are still searching for what you’ve needed from your father for all these years. But baby girl, the truth is your dad can’t give you what you need. He never could.

   You see, hurting people, hurt people. Your dad’s father died when he was only 5yrs old so he did not grow up with the experience of what a father looks like. He did not have a father to teach him how to be a loving dad. His older brothers helped raise him and only taught him how to be tough and to suppress loving feelings. His needs of being loved unconditionally and to be shown affection and care were never met and that caused him. His pain caused him to do the same to you that was done to him. He did not do it on purpose, but it was the only thing that he knew to do. It was not your fault that he didn’t show you the love and attention that you needed, and you definitely deserve it. He simply does not know how to do so. He is repeating the cycle of pain that he endured as a child because he knows no different way of being or doing. Even if you were the perfect child and never did any wrong, your fathers actions, or lack of, would have been the same. But that does not mean that he does not love and accept you. 

   Your worth and value has nothing to do with other people, your parents, family, or friends. It has nothing to do with how smart you are, what you look or dress like, what you have, or what you can do well. You were created with extreme value by God, and that is where your worth lies. Jesus loves you so much that He willingly died a horrible death so that you could be saved and live a better life. He gave you certain gifts, abilities, and talents that make you special. He created each one of us with different qualities, strengths, and weaknesses. Not one person on this earth is perfect, knows it all, has it all, or can do it all. We all have good and not so good parts of us. He created you just like He wanted you and with the qualities that you will need to fulfill His purpose for your life. You matter so much and God wants you to know that He loves you unconditionally and accepts you just as you are. 

    Instead of spending your time and energy on trying to be who you think someone else will like, spend it on learning who God created you to be. What makes your heart sing? What brings you joy? What do you feel fulfilled doing? Once you start to learn who God created you to be you will finally realize that you are enough. You will realize that you do have worth and value because of who He made you to be.Embrace your uniqueness girl. No one can take your place or do what God has anointed you to do. You are loved beyond words and I believe in you!

      Love,

      Future self

So you’re still puttin’ yourself through it aren’t you? Despite all you’ve learned!?! You’ve done the work, you’ve taken the steps, you’ve grown so, so much it’s remarkable! So WHY Must you continue to entertain relationships that contain so much deceit and disrespect? Do you actually think you’re not worth the same respect, compassion, understanding, and forgiveness you give them!?!

You are so relentless at rooting yourself in love. Love for other people and love for yourself. It’s beautiful! By the way, learning to love yourself is your biggest, most bestest accomplishment by far, little lady! You make sure you let people know it’s the key life, mmmk!!

Anyway, just think of all the time and effort that went into healing your “inner child” and doing your “shadow work” and learning mindfulness and keeping an “attitude of gratitude” and meditating and doing “self-care”…ooof! Remember how selfish you felt at first for simply setting aside an hour for yourself? You stuck with it though.

How about the time you googled? “How to forgive someone who isn’t sorry?” You remember that? You didn’t even want to forgive yet, but you knew you had to in order to get those thoughts to stop going round and round in your head. It worked too, didn’t it? It took some time, but eventually, the anger and resentment were gone. Forgiveness!… another key to life! How many keys you got now, anyway?

Guurrrl! The fact that you did all this work on your own using the Internet is a whole other level of fantastic! There’s just a few more pieces to the puzzle. A few more moves on the board, if you will. You know what you have to do and I know it’s hard but enough’s enough.

You feel it every time you’re around any of them. You feel you disrespecting yourself. Keep quiet, keep the peace. Shrink down, maybe they’ll stop singling you out. Tell them what they want to hear, maybe they’ll stop hating you. Explain yourself, maybe they’ll understand you better. Prove yourself, maybe they’ll accept you more.

NO! Not anymore, lady, it’s time! You deserve the same dignity and respect that you give. Especially from those who use the words “I love you”.

Trust me, you’re worth it!

Dear Tori,

I have always seen you.

I remember how badly you were bruised by the people who claimed to love you most-and I want to apologize. Peace was never given freely; you had to bleed for it. And that is not right. I need you to know that many people wear masks and pretend they’re okay when they’re not. You were one of them-and you were so good at it. But behind the mask, there is someone who has always been extraordinary. There are people who are inspired by your loyalty. By your unshakable desire to seek justice. By your constant hunger to create-even when you felt empty. You are one of a kind. You are not your worst experiences. And every single day, even when you feel like you’re breaking, you are growing, not regressing. It’s beautiful to witness your devotion to keep going- to still be kind, even after all the hate you’ve internalized. Your story is not over. And if you hate the chapter you’re in, you can rewrite the narrative. Go to places where you are celebrated, not just tolerated. And if you find none, know that I am your biggest fan. Your values will never lead you astray. Celebrate your wins-even the quiet ones. Forgive yourself for all the ways you twisted and contorted to be accepted.You were just trying to survive. But hear this clearly: You are already acceptable. And when you’re alone, aching for peace, remember this: You can’t hate yourself into self-love. Like any relationship, it takes time. Attention. Care. Play. Joy. And even if you don’t know what that looks like yet-you are worthy enough to try. Your worth has never been tied to your usefulness. It’s been in your being, all along.
With love,
Me

Dear Unsealers,
My name is Elizabeth. Below is a poem/letter I wrote to the version of myself that truly just needed to be seen and for someone to tell her everything will be okay.
This heartbreaking feeling of not being enough was one of the leading factors to my addiction and suicidal ideations. In the midst of it all, there was no hope. But coming out of it, I’ve learned more than there’s room to type in this little box. But 2 key things I want you to think about,
1. You need to face the fire to make it through. Running from it will only dig you deeper.
2. Rock bottom is not where you land, it’s where you stop digging.

I’m here to be that helping hand, that small piece of hope we all need. Love you all!

Now that you’re here…

•••

Hey there, little one,
I see the tears behind your eyes,
It’s clear something’s wrong,
Your shadows hold no lies.

You’ve been hiding from the noise,
Drowning in the silent ache,
Trading truth for borrowed poise,
Giving more than you can take.

I know you’re tired of the fight,
And all the running from the pain.
But you were never out of sight—
I’ve seen you stand in pouring rain.

You loved with fire, without disguise,
A strength that never sought to show.
You saw the truth behind the lies,
Yet, still gave light when theirs dimmed low.

You bent so others wouldn’t break,
Held space where no one stood.
You learned to give more than you take,
And still believed in doing good.

They didn’t see the weight you bore,
The quiet ways you chose to stay.
But I’ve felt it at your core—
The love you gave, the price you paid.

And now at last, you’ve found your ground,
Not in their gaze, but in your own.
No need to chase what won’t come ‘round,
You’ve built a truth that stands alone.

So lift your chin and breathe in deep,
The world may never understand—
But in your soul, your roots run steep,
You are more than what was planned.

You’re not too much, you’re not too small,
You’re not a wound that must be tough,
You are the quiet strength through all—
And soon you’ll realize, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

E.M.

🦋
•••

Dear Little Me,

I remember you. Not just your face, but your silence. The way your shoulders curved forward like you were trying to disappear. The way your feet never felt grounded because you never knew which house you’d be sleeping in next. You never had your own bed. Your own room. Your own safe place to fall apart. You were always just visiting.

You learned how to shrink yourself, to stay polite, quiet, helpful. People loved how easy you were. “She’s so sweet.” “She’s so mature.” “She never causes trouble.” They thought they were complimenting you. But really, they were praising the pieces you hid. The hunger. The ache. The fear. The way you held your breath just to be allowed to stay.

I remember how carefully you folded the clothes that were never yours. How you picked through hand-me-downs hoping to find something that fit just right—not just your body, but your sense of worth. I remember when the school secretary would call you to the principal’s office, and there would be a black trash bag of donated clothes waiting for you. You’d smile, say thank you, then carry that bag back to class, pretending it didn’t burn in your chest like shame. Those clothes weren’t gifts. They were reminders that you had nothing of the your own. Not even dignity.

No one asked how that felt. No one noticed how you walked a little slower down the hall after. No one saw the way you held your tears until you got home—wherever “home” was that week.

You didn’t cry much. You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask for help. Not because you didn’t need it, but because somewhere along the way, you decided needing anything made you a burden. You were wrong, baby. But I know why you believed it.

You didn’t want toys. You didn’t want extra snacks or attention. You just wanted to be claimed. To be someone’s. To hear someone say, “You’re staying.” “You’re mine.” “You don’t have to earn it.”

But no one did.

So you learned how to survive without ever feeling safe.

You packed your sadness into silence. You smiled to keep from sobbing. You carried yourself through a childhood that didn’t carry you back. And through all of that—you still loved. Quietly. Deeply. Completely.

Now, I’m grown. I’m the woman you became. And I need you to hear me with everything you never got to say out loud: It was never your fault.

You were not unlovable. You were not too quiet. You were not a problem. You were a child who deserved to be kept, to be protected, to be cherished. You were worthy of a soft place to land.

You didn’t get that. But somehow, you still became it.

I have children now. And they have me. A mother who shows up. A mother who stays. I’m not perfect. I still carry your wounds. I still cry some nights when the house is quiet and I feel the ghost of your loneliness sitting beside me.

But every day, I choose differently. I give them what you never got. I wrap them in love that doesn’t leave. I tell them they are enough, not because they behave, but because they are.

They will never walk to the front office to pick up bags of clothes that whisper, “You have nothing.” They will never wonder if they’re wanted. They will never look into the mirror and ask if they matter. Because I stay. Because I hold them the way you needed to be held.

You didn’t get to be a child. But now, because of you, my children do.

You were the girl no one kept. But I became the woman who keeps everyone safe. You were the child who was forgotten. But now you live in a home built from your strength. A love made from your longing.

And I want you to know something that still makes my voice shake when I say it:

You made it.

I came back for you. I chose you. And I will never let you go.

Love always,  Me  The mother you needed.  The home you became.

Dry your eyes love,

We’re going to be fine,

Pack a bag for twenty years into time.

Say goodbye to those

Awful nights,

Lying awake

Too scared to breathe ,

Face in our tattered pillow, muffling out our screams.

Dreams of a better life

Still far away,

We will break a dozen more times

Before, we can laugh

And say ‘yeah I’m okay’

You were strong back then

despite her harsh words,

Razor blade kisses were never the answer,

but it was better than the burn,

In our core,

never being good enough,

Slammed on the floor,

We were always too fat, too stupid,

‘you’ll never amount to anything’

Hold on just awhile longer

Soon we will spread our wings.

Fear not little me,

It took us a while

To break open that crooked smile,

My God, it’s wild!

Just don’t give up

The sun will come out soon,

And all those hopes and promises

We imagined

Will come into full bloom.

Blossom, you will,

Like a dark phoenix

You’ll rise,

Rose from the ashes

Only dawn brings,

You’ll shine brighter

Than a thousand fallen stars

Yes, it was hard

Yes, it was rough

In the end,

We really were enough.

Dear Overthinker ,

I know you’re staring at that message again.

Still unopened. Still unanswered.

The blinking cursor is waiting as it always does, steady and patient, but you still don’t know what to say.

You’ve read those words more times than you want to admit.

You go over them, line by line, looking for hidden meaning. A shift in tone. A silence that speaks louder than anything said aloud.

Your thumb hovers. Your heart picks up speed. And then you back away.

Not because you don’t care, but because you’re terrified that whatever you say might be wrong or not good enough.

Something that seems so small to someone else feels massive to you. Because you’re scared that one wrong word might be all it takes to confirm what you’ve always feared.

That you’re not enough.

Your mind never stops.

It replays conversations, builds stories out of silence, creates meaning out of thin air because you’ve learned that pain doesn’t always come with a warning.

You overthink because you’re trying to protect yourself. Because you missed something once, and it hurt more than you knew you could handle.

Now you catch everything, hoping it’ll be different this time.

Wishing you won’t face abandonment again.

If you can get ahead of the pain, maybe then you’ll finally feel safe.

But even when nothing bad happens, you still feel like something is wrong. Like you’re the thing that’s wrong.

And all this overthinking, all this fear, it lives in your body.

Your chest stays tight. Your shoulders carry what no one sees. You toss and turn at night, running through a list of things you said, wondering which one made you too much.

You delete the texts. You rehearse the goodbyes. You shrink yourself into silence to avoid being seen the wrong way.

From the outside, it doesn’t look like anything at all.

People think you’re sensitive or dramatic or just too much.

They dismiss my worries by saying “you’re overthinking,” as if that’s helpful.

But they don’t know how long you’ve lived with the fear that if you mess up, you’ll be abandoned.

They don’t know that deep down, you still believe love is something you have to earn.

This doesn’t just show up in romantic moments.

It’s there in friendships, in family dinners, in moments that are supposed to be happy but feel like something could go wrong at any second.

You smile and laugh and still wonder if you’re annoying.

You feel joy and still question if it’s allowed.

Because a part of you is always waiting for the proof that you’re not enough. That youll messed up. That youll ruined it. Again.

So you perform.

You act calm. You try to be low-maintenance. You pretend you don’t care, even when you do.

Because if you don’t show how much it hurts, maybe they won’t leave.

If you act like you’re fine, maybe you can keep them from seeing how scared you really are.

But here’s the real question you can’t stop asking:

Am I still lovable if I stop pretending I’m okay?

You want to be okay. More than anything.

But you’re tired of carrying the weight of every silence, every maybe, every almost.

You’re tired of holding your breath just to be easy to love.

You’re tired of trying to earn your place.

And I need you to know this.

You don’t have to keep living like this.

You don’t have to carry all that fear just to be worthy.

You are allowed to want reassurance.

You are allowed to need clarity.

You are allowed to take up space, even when you feel unsure.

Your needs don’t make you unlovable.

Your questions don’t make you too much.

Maybe healing isn’t about becoming perfect.

Maybe it’s about learning to pause.

To notice when your mind is spiraling and meet it with gentleness.

To remember that not every silence is rejection.

Not every change means you failed.

Not every feeling of unworthiness is true.

You are not broken for feeling this way.

You are not weak for needing comfort.

You are not hard to love.

You are someone who has had to survive in a world that didn’t always make space for your heart, and you’ve made it this far anyway. That’s not a weakness. That’s strength.

You are still worthy, even when you’re struggling to believe it.

You are still lovable, even when your thoughts try to convince you otherwise.

Keep showing up. Keep feeling, even when it’s messy.

Keep allowing yourself to be seen, even when it’s scary.

You don’t have to earn love by being easy.

You deserve it just as you are.

With the gentleness you’ve always needed,

Me

As you continue reading through this letter, you’ll remember me, I promise. I want first to say I am so sorry, the reflection staring back, almost blurry, will soon begin to take shape, please bare with me. Although impossible, I wish I could have met you differently back then. I wish the strength that I now possess were so visible then. I always thought life for you back then could have been so much simpler if only I had taken the initiative and begun catering to the heart that you wanted to share with the world. Unfortunately, outside noises began taking the space of my own, which later expelled the love that I wanted you to have for yourself. I needed to put a stop to it somehow. But at that time, I wasn’t sure what direction to take to begin the much-needed transformation. I was hurting you, and I knew it. I thought that maybe if you had cut just a little deeper, you’d uncover something worth bragging about, something that would fill your soul, you know, overflow that cup of something that you so desperately were seeking within. It’s been a very long time, and there’s a possibility of this letter being returned to me. But if it does make its way to you, I’d like to explain.

All the times you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror, you’ve always seen yourself as someone different. You knew who you were and your capabilities, but the thought of being considered beautiful never came to mind. Knit picking on your features because you remembered in the 3rd grade that one person who made you feel less than, and you hated yourself for it. The glow of your dark skin was never a curse. I wanted so badly to let you know that at the time, what they said wasn’t true, but sadly, I believed them. This would later dictate the fate of your love for yourself. Please know your complexion was never a curse, you were blessed but the earth and kissed by the sun. I so wish I could have told you how beautiful you are. When you walk into rooms, it’s as if time freezes, because people are always anticipating your next move. Oh, and your smile, I can tell you if I could ever go back in time, I’d laugh so much that those big cheeks you have would hurt from the joy I knew you tried your best to hide. I wanted you to understand that you were never ugly; those words have no right to be in the same sentence that holds your name. There are so many things I have learned from the negativity that you’ve received then. Never allow people to project onto you the feelings they hold for themselves; their insecurities have nothing to do with the woman you were. It only shows that they refused to heal the parts of themselves that you were forced to hate. Deep down, I know you wanted to express to many how happy you were within yourself, but that was constantly shut down because of society’s favoritism for those who look nothing like you. Please know you were ALWAYS ENOUGH, always!

The way you looked was never a problem; your body was and will always be beautiful. The days you deprived yourself of food to be seen, gaining the approval of those around you who didn’t give a shit about your wellbeing but more so how you lack love for yourself made them feel more superior than you. I know time has passed, I’ve uncovered so much about you as the years went by, but I want you to know if I had the chance to choose again in that moment, I’d choose you all over again because you were always my first choice. Being seen doesn’t equal judgment. I want you to know I have sat amongst people who see me and have fallen in love. My fingers tend to move faster than my mind can sometimes comprehend, but as I cry while typing this letter to you, I need you to know that you’re a gem. Every room you’ve let fear dictate how you’d enter has been removed from its hinges. Your path had been paved and was just waiting for you to take that step to begin your journey. The light you’ve held within has been guiding so many on their journeys. There are so many things about you that I’ve admired, but most of all, I am happy you never gave up on yourself and you fought against the things that tried their best to hold you back.

Again, I know this letter may turn into a return to sender, because the address you once resided at is no longer listed. But wherever you may be, I will continue to wish the best for you! I love you!

Yours truly, with Love,
Gracelyn N. Morris

To the little girl
Who lives inside of me covered by the flesh of adulthood
Drowned out by the ruckus of the world around us

The brown beauty
With glimpses of heaven reflecting through her brown eyes
The one who never realized that she in fact did have more time

To the little girl
Whose heart was pure as snow
And nails were short and low

As they were the manifestation of your anxiousness
How it chipped away at your being
And you chipped away the bedding of your nails
Caused by the ripping of your teeth as if you were teething

I sometimes find myself grieving
For your underdeveloped broken bones
Softened soul
Bruised skin
Your long walks home

To that little girl
Did I ever tell you that I loved you?
Did I tell you that the inside of your palm can hold the world?
That factually speaking you are in fact a beautiful little girl.

You are not
Unloved
Unlovable
Nor are you a burden

You are loveable because God so loved the world
That is for certain

I write you this letter to express my love
With the mindset of a past and future hug

I say to you
Your tough skin and strength are not your personality
Your timid nature and softness are not the curse of your reality

Inside of our totality is our morality
Your experience is simply foreshadowing
The greatness that you will experience

You must stay just to see how good it gets
Little girl your world will turn and shift
Yet no matter how many times life attempts and hits

You are love
You are loved
You are the physical representation of the one above.

You are perfectly written
Evenly splitted
Loud and attentive
Quiet and submissive
Multi-dimensional

You spread love through a darkened world that is wicked
I say this to you
I want you to never forget it

I see you,
I hear you
I love you
I am you

I promise that you are never alone
Inside of me I provide a space as your home

To the little girl
Who lives inside of me covered by the flesh of adulthood
The girl whose drowned out by the ruckus of the world around us

The brown beauty
With glimpses of heaven reflecting through her brown eyes
The one who never realized that she in fact did have more time

Hi.
———————————————————————————————————-
I dedicated this piece of poetry to the child I was and the child that I am. Internally as beings we hold every experience that we have ever experienced. We are all simply mosaics. A mosaic is a pattern or image made of small regular or irregular pieces of colored stone, glass or ceramic. We are all the physical manifestation of the patterns and images made from the regular and irregular behaviors and beliefs of those around us. We are all products of our environments. Sometimes those environments destroy our self image, our light, our being.

That is what happened to the little girl who lived inside of me. That child felt inadequate and alone. Two things that were never true. So within time I aged and navigated this thing called life. Eventually while doing so I found myself fixing the broken pieces of who I am. I dedicated myself to a journey of self healing. The little girl I am unable to rid myself of deserved it. It was her God given destiny: Growth.

As a 22 year old woman, I wrote this poem to as a letter to the girl who felt she was never enough. As if her existence and presence on earth was a gift. A gift for herself and those she encountered. It’s a piece of acknowledgement to the part of me I can never rid myself of. As a 23 year old woman, I read this poem loudly and with pride. I know that all things that are good will come to me. As I am a child of God and all that is good comes from him.

This poem is a love letter to Jessie L. Bady. This poem is a love letter to Poetically Bel. This poem is a love letter to the mosaic that I am.

It pains me to say goodbye, but it is something I must do to live in my truth. The truth is
I never needed you, because I was strong on my own. I do want to thank you for helping
me realize just how strong I was. Thank you for showing me that doubt has no place in
our life. You help me to fly again. So, I will open my wings and fly free not only for you,
but everything you represent. I was always worthy. But I now realize that I was my worst
enemy. I stopped myself from believing that things were possible for me. I let fear hold
me back. It crippled me and kept me in a chokehold but no longer. I know what
I am capable of, and I am learning every day just how resilient I am. Goodbye to her, you are no
longer me and I am no longer you.

Dear Me-Who-Didn’t-Feel-Enough,
I wish I could tell you I’ve figured it all out—that somewhere along the way, the fear faded, the doubts disappeared, and I finally felt… enough.
Like I was doing it right. Like I belonged.
But I haven’t. Not really.
There are still days I look in the mirror and only see the flaws.
Still days when my best doesn’t feel even close to good enough.
When the house is a disaster.
When the kids eat nothing but boxed mac and cheese (again).
When I try to be the perfect mom, wife, daughter, human—and somehow manage to drop all the balls at once.
When the bills outnumber the dollars, the inbox stays full, and I seriously consider running away to live one a desert island in Tahiti with no Wi-Fi.
There are still moments when the silence after an interview feels like confirmation.
Still nights when I lie awake, picking apart every word I said that day.
Still that quiet voice that whispers, Maybe they’re just being nice. Maybe they don’t really mean it.
You thought you weren’t enough back then.
And honestly? Some days, I still do.
But I’m learning to believe that showing up is enough.
That boxed mac and cheese isn’t a moral failure.
That the mess doesn’t mean I’m doing it wrong.
That love isn’t measured in perfectly folded laundry or homemade meals.
That trying—even tired and unsure and overwhelmed—still matters.
I’m starting to believe that I don’t have to earn rest.
That I don’t have to fix everything to be worthy of grace.
That maybe I’ve always been enough—flaws, doubts, and all.
So I keep going.
I love. I doubt. I cry. I try. I laugh. I dream. I show up anyway.
Maybe that’s what enough looks like.
Not perfect. Not polished. Not sure.
Just… here.
Still learning. Still trying. Still writing. Still breathing.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s more than enough.
Love,
Me-Who’s-Still-Becoming-Enough

I saw your voice that sang softly within me. The one that screamed out in the silence of your struggles. Taking the liberty to wait in the silence and slowly grow. You were as small as I remember back then, As I grew, you saw firsthand all the struggles ahead of us. You were fearful, and I knew that. You spoke softly, crossing your arms, unable to speak your truth. The one that made you shine. Even when you took everything to heart, no matter how small or fragile. You wanted to strive, forced to lead your life in constraints of peer pressure. Yet as the mind became cloudy within the voices of the past. You yearned for growth, expanding it year by year. The moon rising and shaping you as that light in endless night. You stood tall with the knowledge of your mistakes turned into passion. Searching tirelessly for your truth, having to vent countless nights, the same problems repeatedly. Burying your head between your pillow, crying softly, wishing you could have done more. From the fear that you couldn’t get along with your peers or your family. Sharing parts of yourself to as many people that you could a hold of. Bearing the burden of rejection because you spoke with happiness and you wanted to spread that same feeling to those around you. Sharing that same burden just like your favorite comic book heroes did, because you wanted change. Slowly, you leaned on others to support you, building the foundations up. As time went on, that knowledge slowly revealed itself to yourself. That child within you still held your hand along the way, looking through the same lens as you did. A smile placed upon you, bringing you closer to theirs. That I was that hope I needed all along. I was lonely, yet your voice kept telling me to not give up, to adapt just like you always have. Shredding the mold of your past to pave the way towards your hope. That sometimes, you going to freak out and you will feel lost. But guess what you are that guide, because you always, knew didn’t you. That I didn’t lose, I was my hope, that I was made to challenge the narrative. You grew as your mind did, latching onto it bit by bit. Trusting the process and staying on course. Where a consistent narrative drove you to live a life of comfort, but your mind opened to new possibilities. Curiosity challenged doubt and failure fueled perseverance. Forging the bond of two souls to build harmony.

I close my eyes and in a moment I’m back- 11 years old, eyes bleary in the early morning hours, confusion on my face as I look around the living room. My grandma, my uncles, aunts and my dad, somber, tear-streaked. “Your mom…she died tonight.” The gut punch, the ice cold horror that washes over you in moments like this.

In the days to come, I was consumed. Not just by grief, but by regret. Remorse. Too young to comprehend it but wracked with the pain. You see, my mom had been sick for as long as I could remember. Multiple Sclerosis, MS, had her stumbling while I was in kindergarten. She got a cane when I was in 1st. By 5th grade she was wheelchair bound, and as 6th began the quadriplegia set in and she needed to be fed and showered. Her mind intact and alert, her body failing, and I was…furious. Watching the person you love most decline rapidly should make you empathetic, kind. Unless you’re a little girl terrified watching it happen, never fully understanding and not seeing where it was headed. All I knew was anger for the life I didn’t have…a mom to go spend time with. A mom to do my hair. A mom who could take me to the park. In my youth and naivete I saw only what I was losing, not what she was. So I argued. Like a teen girl, I argued. I was so angry with her for getting sick. For not fighting harder. And after she died? Angry at the world for taking her and at myself for not telling her I loved her. For not being patient. For not appreciating how much she loved me.

And for years, Mother’s Day was a fresh wound every year. Another reminder of the deep loss that losing a parent causes.

Then, one beautiful December day many years later, my newborn daughter was placed in my arms. And year after year that hole, that loss, fades, stitched together, healed by my own two children. Because I get to be theirs. I can’t be a daughter again, I can’t fix the anger and hurt and trauma I had as a child. But I get to be a mom. I get to love them as unrelentingly as my own mother did. I get to see glimpses of her in them, in the way my daughter reads insatiably to the clever way my son looks at the world. And in experiencing the all consuming love I have for my children, I forgive myself. I think to how my mom loved me, even through my hurt and disappointment and confusion during those years. And I choose to love myself again. To say I am enough…I am flawed, I am human, and I have made mistakes. But my mother’s love lives on through me, and now through my children. And, after so long, I am at peace.

I not quite sure how to say this became a very voracious feeling
Stuck in strong waters that pushed away just to spiral downward
Into a hard rock bay , i return to my sense becoming excited
Then deranged thinking the feeling lead my heart astray
The rush contain explosive energy overcame and scared me
So i shut myself off by crafting a key only true eyes could see
It popped when i win it storms in when i lose paying true prices
Through late dues after all its better become a jester to out play
All the kings fools. Out of all things that me sick Within the core
It has to be the ability not to do more as a whole aiming stars high
In the sky but denied each time by these so called winners its
Flashes back and forth in my head seeing great champion quitter
Society as a whole lays multiple taste then the dish became bitter
Then Legends becoming quitters the Lazy man drinking from the
World cup and taking his trophy wife out to dinner Cant believe
From what i was told through out the young and old Legends will
Deliver . I look Through this feeling with many mentals clues hold
Thy breath in positivity and out Toxicity two more times hold
My frustration gain in touch of dividing lines between the fallen
And great Divine .But things come and go as i understood with time why am
I complaining that there are no more greats in this time when i been sheltered
And put myself in the waters to make this my time ,okay then im ready to grind starting
To practice my poems into different styles of Rhymes. The time was nigh constant adrenalin
Created endless rhymes calling my name this was my time to step up on the mic
Spoke like a baby my first words were like .. (heavy breath) whispers in my head
Spoke in silent dread had all delivery but mine was a shutter fell to my knees pieces
Of the mind became clutter panic in the first 10 seconds to release a word only
To forget the next my God i sound so Absurd! I walked off faced formed into a fake smile
While telling myself that performance was vile with no true style
Defeated and self beaten i was ready to go caught a lyft back home
Thinking about my performance i question every thing i brought this
Loud soul so itself in house to become dormant in rain and harsh weather
Friends ask how i was doing i be like whatever until my friend notice something
While were together he read my words to that of an sad open letter
Looking towards (whatcha under the weather for?) i told him i dont have
The drive no more with a form he looks over raising eye brows he said( tell me
what happen and i’ll listen) Telled him i blew it at the spoken word competition
( You can let that define who you are) I respond that i wanted to rock To Gain applause
(And i get you wanted all but while that’s the image you there was one flaw)
What could it possibly be he smirked just to say (first practice makes perfect thats true in order to be you must believe and achieve ) Thought about the quote i can no longer deny my fearless
Turned into flames in my eyes and told him i gave up too soon thanks for this talk as we
Im going back to this competition and shootdown the competition with a BANG!
Okay take i know what got to do stay ground keep it cool took one breath to
Keep my cool then alright mic’s om me im to flow.
Im came to start this revolution open your third eye
To oversight mental hurdles and mental confusion
Peel off the infectious wall see the mold now unfold
Understand my people these dreams are crafted by the bold
I believe in my deeds will outlive me showcase through the
Screen i will never abandoned my creed to entertain those
Plebs of there constant greed breaking chains for free
Walking into mindsets step onto a mission echo’s in my head
I crafted a pathfinder written in a straight path description
I now realize my emotion fruition i discovered
All of this is my Ambition

Dear sweet little one
My sweet little one crying in the shower so no one can see your tears to avoid their fake concern. Holding yourself as silent sobs rattle your bones. Wondering what it’s all for. The cursing you barely understand. The pain for things is out of your control. The silent prayers to anyone who would listen. For your journey to end before you wake.
My dear little one life is impossibly hard for you right now And Completely and totally unfair to you. The things you are going through no child should ever go through. You have seen first-hand horror that most adults would avoid their bowels with just the telling of it.
So with all you have gone through and will go through. There is still strength in you to see the sun every day and the Glorious Moon every night. Some days will be harder than others, and some days will fill you with so much joy you will weep. Your life is worth living for them all the bad days and the good days. So please, little one, keep your head up high, chin to the sky, shoulders back, and know that your life is an adventure, one that is packed full of chaos and love, sorrows and joy, amazing hellos, and mournful goodbyes.
You are brave you are smart you’re amazing in every way you are also selfish and stubborn and a big pain in people’s butts this is all Who You Are The Good The Bad and The Ugly and you know what that is perfectly fine you don’t have to be beautiful and you don’t have to be ugly you don’t have to be anything other than who you are I love you little one a sweet little me The Lost Child. Who has been forgotten by people who are supposed to love you right now. Alone in that shower crying her heart out, I remember you, and I love you, my little past self. You’re so much stronger than you think you are, and in the future, you will be loved. We’ll find people who love us Just the Way We Are.
Lots of love
Your future self

Dear me, I all ways ask myself am i really good enough?
Am i really ? If I was why did i go through the pain the hurt the rejection?
why did it feel as if I was only seen by the monsters the creeps the beast under my bed and in my closet ?Now I am older now and I see what it was all for.
As I sit and pray knees on the floor . My head bowed in honor to my King My father my God in heaven .The one who has known me from the very beginning
it took me a while to understand that all along he had a special plan.
But here I am no longer a child ,no longer a teen living in the wild I am grown with children of my own with a purpose no one could ever foreseen or even known .in 100 days Africa will welcome me as if i have come home.
So to the little girl I once was ,i just want to give you one gigantic hug. For keeping on going when everything in you wanted to give up. For allowing us to forgive and let God and Letting GO .You are truly my inner hero.
So am I really something? Am I really gonna go ?Am i ready to take a leap of faith and let the past go ?Yes Mam I am And in closing I want to say thank you for never letting me go .cause now I ask am I really I ask are we ready to go?

Hey,

Who was that, the version of you back there? 

The one who wore provocative clothes to get a stare.

The one who would go out and never be home

The one who chased “love” because she hated being alone.

Who was that girl? 

I know I didn’t grow up with her.

The flashy clothes, the fake smile 

If they called you, I know you would have run a mile. 

She was the one who would hide her shame

And be the scapegoat and take everyone’s blame. 

Who are you now?

 Why do you feel so battered down? 

You allowed others to bring you so low to the ground

This version of you is someone I can’t stand to be around.

This false identity is keeping you bound 

The lies, the games

How is it not driving you insane?

You keep searching for “love” that keeps spinning you round.

All the while, your heart is screaming, but you tuned out the sound. 

So look in the mirror

Who do you see?

Because this insecure version is not the real me. 

I miss the real you. 

I want you to return 

But with each version of you, 

There is a lesson to be learned. 

Love, The Future Verison 

When I thought that I was not enough I rendered myself vulnerable. Vulnerable to the lies that felt like admiration, being that vanity was my strong suite. Being considered special beyond merit occupied my sensibility of logic. He love me, he loves me not, they love me, they love me not projected possibilities of a connection within my worth. My worth, what does that intel. At one point in my life, it required me to be a good girl and to just go with the flow. To allow myself to be love bombed with words of affirmation and acts of service, because how could you not love me after all of that, right. Pint up moments of confusion and self-doubt. Am I being punked, where is Ashton, consumes my filtered emotions. Emotions of overwhelmed perception of a bond beyond expectation while trying to enforce self-love. I earned the self-esteem that I, at one point, lacked. I also learned the power of self-love and self-validation and that I can end up being my own kryptonite. Although I might not be everyone’s cup of tea, I now know that I am enough.

Nothing is going to come easy for you, that’s how the world works for people like us that need to forge their own identity from the scrap metal everyone tossed away. Your life is going to be a series of doors slammed in your face again, and again, and again. It’s going to seem like nothing will come out of it, that each rejection, fight, and failure will amount to nothing. Until recently, that’s what I thought, too. But one day, you’re going to wake up and realize everything you never knew you needed was right in front of you all along. The hours you spent training for sports everyone said you could never play ignited a fire within you that surprised everyone. Where everyone saw certain failure, you carved your own path. When everyone told you to give up and walk away, you raised your chin higher and made a promise that you wouldn’t.
 The stubbornness that you inherited will one day out-weigh the anger that came with it. Eventually, the anger makes sense. You never really hated the world, you hated what the world wanted you to be. They called you stubborn, but you weren’t. They hoped the word would quelch your fire because they feared that your ambition, desire, and dedication would lead you down the path to the forges. They were afraid to watch you break free from their chains and melt them down to nothing.
 During your walk down the wooded trail down to the forge, people emerge from behind the trees. As they get closer, you realize their skin seemed to be slipping off, revealing limbs built from pipes and joints made of gears. At first, it frightens you. This isn’t how people are supposed to look. Why? You ask them, voice trembling. Just try it. Curious, you pick up a bolt off the ground and slide it over your finger. You look to your side and see that they’re watching you, their eyes reflecting the surprising smile spread across your face. The rush of euphoria is addictive. Together, you scour the woods for any loose pieces: rusty mufflers, spoons, road signs, keys, and cans. You lay it all out in front of you and divide the spoils. He needs three spoons and a wrench; she needs the coat rack and a tin can. They give you what remains and help you rebuild your body.
 Sometimes people walk down that path and stare; others call you unnatural and freaks of nature. They’ll tell you what you’re doing is wrong and try to take back rubbish that was destined to be yours, but you hold on tight to each hard-found treasure. You get kicked around and watch as your pieces fall apart and scatter broken across the ground, but you help each other up, wipe off the dust, and start your forage again.
As you solder together the skeleton and fill its veins with molten iron, you realize that someone’s been watching you, taking notes. Half made of metal, half loose-fitting skin, he comes up to you with a notebook clutched to his chest and a pen shaking in his hand and asks how you knew what to do. I don’t know, you’ll tell him. Still, he nods and pulls out his pen and scribbles down something you’ll never read. As you finish your modifications and find your way in this newly fashioned body, your cautious steps become a powerful stride and you get to become the man you wished to be, and the voice in your head finally begins to settle down. Not entirely, but enough to know that you’re doing something right.
The kid runs with you, asking questions and following your lead without hesitation. You make a few wrong turns and land in a position you wish you hadn’t, but he doesn’t fault you, nor do the people that have the most to lose. That’s the part that matters. Even when the door slams in your face and the kid looks over at you, uncertainty clear in his eyes, you put your shoulder to the door and push. You look to the side and, one by one, you see everyone take their positions next to you, bones and metal alike.
You were never destined to be alone, kiddo, you simply haven’t found your people yet. Once you find them (because I can assure that you will), quicken your stride and get ready for the ride, that’s where your story really begins. The world is still scary and you’re often lost and confused, but that’s ok. Behind you stands a mass of people, each brought to you by luck, ready to dig through the ruins to help you salvage more parts from the wreck.
With love,
Max

“You should be a model!” everyone told you. “I’d pay good money for a tan like that!

Yet, all you saw were the scars, tangles, and dust from walking barefoot along the railroad tracks. As I travel along my timelines, I see your long, dark hair and deep eyes muddled with confusion.  I see your soul standing in the rotted corner of a partially abandoned trailer playing tug of war with your current reality and your soul truth. 

Wondering why strangers tell you such praises while your parents remind you that you’ll never grow up to be anything. Their words are like a whip. I know the bitterness that rises in your chest when your dad tells you, “You better find a man with money. That’s your only hope.”

Your bitterness is your inner voice disguised, for it knows that your hope is within yourself. Listen to that voice.

I know that shame drenches you when you have to be dropped off at home or when you can’t afford school events. Your victories are invisible. When you get honor roll, your mom says, “Yeah, you must have cheated.” 

When you’re invited to the party, your dad says, “Ah, they just felt sorry for the po’ kid.” 

I see you in those moments, barely hanging on, in a whirlwind of insults and disappointment bouncing off every corner until it seems like a never-ending echo of projected failures. Molding your mind. Creating your future.  A future that makes sense to them. 

I am writing to tell you to listen to the voice within that rejects these daggers of assumptions. It is justified. It is a savior. I, the version of you that has come this far, am with you now. Therefore, you know that nothing else matters. I take your hand, and the clatter stops. You feel me. You look at me with understanding eyes as I tell you the truth.

“This is not your fault. This is not your future.

The world needs everything that you are building, so keep going.

You are going to make yourself proud. 

It all works out better than you could ever imagine.”

With this letter, you see all the amazing things waiting for you. 

The safety.

The empowerment.

The adventures. Oh, so many adventures. 

The impact.

The love.

And it is all thanks to you realizing that you were meant for more. 

I sign off in peace and gratitude, knowing you received this gift. Thank you for everything that you will do. Thank you for finding inspiration in nature and for dreaming big, for it has served me in adult life. 

You now know that you belong where you are for a purpose. You are the free and resilient kid you were destined to be. No more fear. No more proving. Just being. Because now you know that being your authentic self will always be more than enough.