Dear Unsealers,

Bonjour from New York City!

As I type this post, the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games is on my screen. After an already busy summer of sport due to UEFA’s Euro 2024 and the Copa America, the main event of the summer has finally arrived.

Seeing the athletes floating along the River Seine is making me nostalgic for the City of Lights. I can’t wait to see the competition to come and all the shots of the city in the next two weeks.

As I tend to do, I wrote a poem to welcome in this event, one that only comes once every four years. Let the games begin!

As the athletes of the world gather in Paris
To open the games of the XXXIII Olympiad

Here’s to the next sixteen days
After the cauldron is dramatically lit

All the stories that will be told
The drama the competitions will bring
With the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat coming full circle

From La Tour Eiffel, crossing the globe to the waves of Tahiti
Visions of France in all it’s splendor

Casting the cynicism of the world aside
For the ideals of sportsmanship that Mr. de Coubertin appealed

In the distance, the Olympic Fanfare is here
Pour dire bienvenue à Paris à tous!

The phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi Mom. Guess where I am?!?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Where?”
I hear my daughter catch her breath with anticipation and excitement. I’m sitting on my couch in suburban Minneapolis home. It’s cold outside and I’m under a blanket, it’s late, I have to be at work early. I couldn’t sleep.
“I’m in Canada! I got here! Oh Mom, I’m so excited!”
I hear her fumbling around.
“Mom, just listen…”
I hear the beep of a key card being accepted in a lock.
“That was me, I’m in my hotel room!”
I gasp, catching a little hitch in my throat as a tear escapes my eye. I am picturing my 5-year-old daughter standing on tippy toes. She is grinning as she opens the door, turning to see if I am looking.
“I’m so glad you got there safely, how was the flight?” I don’t want her to hear the emotion in my voice. She is my child, and she is a capable woman.
“It was great, no problems, and here I am. I wish you were here. I want you to hear me give my paper.”
“You will do great,” I say, wishing I could be there. I don’t want to make this about me. It’s not, it’s all her. My sweet and spicy first born.
So, this is parenting. I did not raise my kids so that they would need me. I raised them so that they would be capable, reasonable and compassionate. I don’t mean to speak of them as a group or a possession, singular or plural. The babies that I grew in my womb, that I gave birth to, that I suckled and nurtured do not belong to me. They belong with me. I belong with them.
In the beginning there were three, a daughter and two sons. My little crew. My daughter became a big sister at 17 months. My oldest son became a big brother at 28 months. It was crazy, I was struggling in an abusive marriage, with a mother who had struggles of her own. Precarious describes the first years perfectly. It is good that my precious posse was more important to me than life itself. We had adventures, we ate at McDonalds, we had guns that you could only shoot at charging pink Rhinoceros in the house on Tuesdays that started with J.
`I did the best I could to give them a good education, a good work ethic and the understanding that in many statements the word can’t actually means won’t. You should be honest and clear about what you mean. I gave them religious education in the hope that it would springboard them into a spiritual awareness. The ability to discover the importance of a faith walk, and dedication to their individual vibration. I encouraged sports and music. Joining a group and taking part for the duration of the commitment. You don’t need to sign up again. You do need to honor your commitment.
I could have taken them away from their father. I chose to share custody, legal and physical. I chose to love them more than the disdain I held for him. I knew him as my abuser. They knew him as daddy, they adored him, and they were of him. They had every right to know him on more than just the weekends. Warts and all, he was theirs. Warts and all, so am I.
I gave them as much space for self-discovery and development as I could. I grew up with suppressive rules. My mom was fighting the demon of anxiety and depression. Her safety was conditional on my compliance. I held loose reigns, and there could have been more slack.
Parenting is a dance of generations. You will always be influenced by your past, not controlled by it. My parents were donors of many loving hours with my children. They enriched the lives of these children as they grew into the adults that they are. My parents gave them deep roots, and heritage. There are many teachers, coaches and friends that took on roles of immeasurable value. The influence of adults outside our family group are the buds of branches in the young lives. Branches that will reach for the sky, nourished by the deep roots and supported by the strength of these remarkable young lives.
My daughter is standing inside her hotel room. In a different county. Alone. Capable, proud, and she is sharing the moment with me. I am crying. I am not proud of her; I am proud for her. Yes, I guided, and she accepted. Yes, I taught, and she chose to learn. Yes, she failed. Her failure is not my lesson. It is hers. Yes, she succeeded. The success is not mine. It is hers.
Three people. One momma. I love them all, better yet I really like them.

Clear the road- I am 16!!
Happy birthday, my sweet boy.
This is when I legally run out of excuses to get you that driver’s permit. This is when I nervously let go of your last little finger , only to grasp and firmly shake your hand in friendship🤝 This is when many transitions happen. This is when some of it makes sense to you but a lot more does not. This is when the world suddenly looks weirder, scarier, cooler, exciting, fun,crazy and different for you, all at the same time. Then is when we may agree to disagree on a lot. Remember, nobody has it all figured out entirely, neither have I, neither will you.
But I promise to try and understand..I promise to stay onboard, face the tides and ride the unending high and low waves of life side by side with you forever and ever and ever.
Love,
Amma

Behind the mask, no face to find,
A trick of mind, ‘neath sun that’s kind,
Yet rain pours down within the soul,
Where hidden truths take their toll.

“Get up, get on, you’ll be alright,”
The lies they tell ease the plight.
A crown once worn, now tipped and slanted.
Society’s stigma, harsh and untrue.

“Go out, be free,” they say, unaware,
That solitude’s chosen over despair.
In sorrow’s depth, alone you wallow,
While unseen, in code, for help you call.

Attention sought? Not even a hand to hold,
A listening ear, as your story’s told.
Over and over, being told “You’ll be okay,”
But will they listen, or just turn away?

Until the end, when all is read,
And in the paper, your name is led.
Will they see then, what they missed before,
Or just a picture, nothing more?

Healing can feel 2 paths
The one with all the rocks
And the one with the steps to the mountain
The flowers that bloom for every little accomplishment
Finding the things that work for me
The constant therapy appointments
The constant doing things alone
Finding the peace with the sun
The peace with the birds and the breeze
The walking up on another chance
Another day
Closer to where I want to be
Closer to the northern lights
Closer to the place where nature is the most beautiful
Where the leaves stop falling
Where your so at peace
That nothing or nobody takes that away from you again

Floating through the ocean of life a
Tale at times to be a ferocious Journey through a turbulent current
Filled with pain and strife
Mariners who I thought would always
Be with me have not survived
Times of weakness my heart wanders and loses faith
That one day I too will be where they have arrived
The Seafarer is who I became
Feeling lost in the choppiness of life’s shifting ocean
The waves swell through the night
To and fro with immense commotion
Realization hits me, I have no control,
I fall to my knees and give The Lord my devotion
Waking after outlasting the tumultuous waves
Sun glistening, oceanic seabirds squawking in praise
A restful, serene state
The stream now has become a quiet, vision of peacefulness
Preparation to guide me through life’s immeasurable distress
Next time I know I will never again be alone
He is always with me
Through the tempestuous waters
To calm my storms
WKR
©Wendy Ronshausen

Your breaking me can’t you see I don’t know why you just won’t leave me alone and let me be why you keep trying to tear me apart don’t you think you already did enough can’t you see that you already did a number don’t you get it you already broke me you fuckin destroyed me there’s not really much more you can do to me I’m all above and so much more you even took me from me cause I didn’t even know myself anymore but that’s when I should of walked out the door but not much longer I just don’t care anymore my mind and gut was telling me I had to go it was going to get really bad I had enough and was about to snap so I ended us and walked out that door cause I know I’m so much better than u made me feel u took everything away from me even my pride I’m so lucky I got my dignity back it took everything I had to find it again cause you absolutely broke me until no end I had to get away from you to find myself again cause you did everything to destroy me and take my happiness away from me I’m finally free and there is no more breaking me

Never forget that I love you always remember that your beautiful, your smart, your enough and your always worth It don’t listen to anything else you know what you deserve you know what your worth so don’t settle for nothing less your always guaranteed the best cause around me your nothing less always keep a smile on that beautiful face cause your deserve it never want to see you upset or hurt but I’ll be here to fix or patch anything I can I promise you to be your best friend lean you a hand from time to time or to just be that person that always has your back no matter what through the thick or thin the good or bad I just want you to know I can’t promise to be here for the rest of your life but I can promise to love you for the rest of mine

I wonder what it must be like
to have a normal self-image.
To not be swallowed up by body dysmorphia,
Stealing away every opportunity that comes.

I wonder what it must be like
to show up just as you are,
Instead of avoiding and hiding away,
So not to be seen the way that you are.

What a relief it would be
To look in the mirror and not see an enemy.
To not want to throw up at the sight,
Of the body that serves me every day

To not want to shatter the mirror into pieces,
As if it makes me go away.
To glance at my reflection in a window,
And not startle at the monster staring back.

I wonder what it would be like
To not pick myself apart,
And chip away any self-esteem left,
Just to convince myself of how bad I am.

What a relief it would be,
To have it be the last thing I’m worried about.
To feel good enough to chase a dream,
Even just good enough to participate.

To allow myself to feel excited,
Without the side conversations in my head.
The intrusive thoughts that shatter me
And suffering caused by distortion.

What it must be like
To wake up in the morning and not worry
About what new perceived image
You will have in the reflection this time.

To not be obsessed and compulsive.
To not base my activities around
How I feel about myself
To not be restricted.

I wonder what life I’d have
If I didn’t restrain myself from it.
To break free from the prison of my mind
That holds me chained against my will.

The disorder has me in a chokehold,
And there is no release.
I am in an endless battle with my mind,
And I wish I could just be free.

How does it feel
To not be restricted by behavior
That stops you from leaving your house?
Repetitive, agonizing, panicky behavior

What a relief it would be, to just be.