Sorry this message finds you late, lost in doubts;
Like a lingering letter left at the lake house.
From your former self, the one you put on the shelf,
With faded red capes and some wooden staves;
Comics gathering dust, imaginary bat caves.
You’ve built spaceships and castles in the sky.
Now you’re more concerned with your piece of the pie.
You abandoned those vigilante dreams and energizing themes.
No more crime-fighting schemes. You left that scene.

You needn’t necessarily navigate the night,
Neutralizing the nefarious, loving the fight.
Not too many problems are solved with a fist.
When they are men in suits like Wilson Fisk.
But that fire for justice can’t be extinguished,
Even when taking on enemies more distinguished.
Don’t allow life to plunder the remains of your childlike wonder.
Your courage’s intact, don’t go under, run towards the thunder!

I’ll be here for you when you get the time…

But I’ve been waiting since ‘99, when I wrote this last line.

(Style score 68%)

To Young Chris,
You will live your life in a community of people who will come and go. They will agree and they will argue. No one will ever see the world the same as another, a fact that can both fortify or tear apart any relationship.
Don’t worry about what other people think of you; they do not know your experience. You can do whatever your heart desires; you will be great. Keep in mind you should not live by the fear that governs someone you love and trust. Guard yourself from being influenced by her rules, her warnings, her harsh criticism. You do not have to live within her walls; built to protect her. She has fought many battles of her own, leaving her wise and strong. She will give you gifts beyond compare. You will uncover them in time; her gifts will be your treasure.
You will spend so much of your life doing beautiful things. Success is yours with each new thing you do; you will struggle. When something ends, it is not failure, as each ending marks a beginning. Each time you fall, you will get up and dust yourself off. Raising your family will bring so much joy; there will be times your children raise you, let them. Trust yourself, trust your faith, howl at the Moon. The Sun will warm your back and you can dance in the rain. Marvelous things are in store for you, so don’t hide, accept the gifts with gracious exuberance. Each challenge you face will sharpen your wit, exercise your patience, and uncover knowledge that was buried deep within. You will never be alone; there are new friends with every smile you share. Believe me, there will be bitter tears. This path has many perils. You are strong, resourceful, and resilient. Sorrow will feel like an inescapable abyss. Let the dark embrace you like a protective covering. When you are ready, the joy in the light will be incredible. You will have no regrets.
No matter what is going on in your life, remember that you don’t need to be perfect to be loved. You can achieve whatever you want to achieve. The choices you make will always be the right choice for you. Take that trip to Nepal, Hike the PTC. Ride all the horses and bring your kids. Being a little feral is good for all of you. Life is to be lived; everything will turn out just fine. Believe you can, and you will.

Hello Old Self,

You didn’t deserve what happened to you. The pain doesn’t define you. Yes, you are better than how you are being treated. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to admit our father disrupts our peace. He brings nothing to our life but false hope after 23 years. Tell the woman that brings you peace that you’re falling in with love her. The strength you need is within your soul, heart, and mind. You aren’t worthless. Life gets better for you, even though I know it feels like the world is crashing down. Our new beginning starts with the love within us. We are divine. True love makes us feel like we are not alone. We are light, even through the dark. It’s okay if our light slowly is dim it is not permanent. You’ll finally feel peace once we set our hurt free. You know that great, sunny-day feeling? Where the wind is rustling through the leaves in a tree, or when you see a kid flying his kite as the birds fly above. Everything surrounding you is divinely beautiful. This is what to look forward to. The joy awaits you in the end.

You were born with your name in the lights. Your eyes were bright and their twinkle inspired your name. Your nick name. You were Twinkie then, and you are Twinkie now. Cute. Unassuming. In line and in check. Your survival depended on diminutive silence. Yet, you laughed from your belly. Your smile mimicking the matriarchal undertones you understood as mother. Grandmother and mom. You didn’t understand the gift carried in your smile’s beam. For its light seemed to illuminate pathways for everyone else. You would bloom.

Responsibility and its terms for life seemed natural to you. Elders applauded you for your self sufficiency. The applause was loud. Cries for eldership to step in, step up and raise you went unheard. So at 37, you’re up at night realizing piercing truths that leave your heart tender.

You had well intended guidance from elders. And your upbringing was lacking—and although that is not your fault, it is your problem.

Upon this realization, you’ve let many tears flow. I am proud of the ways you’ve allowed your heart to break. You’ve been diligent in your efforts to understand yourself. You’ve made heart space for those pivotal to your blooming.

You were mom’s light, even when it felt heavy. When mom’s addiction ravished your baseline understanding of character and moral, you found comfort in survival. You held emotions beyond your young mind’s scope in order to maintain a relationship filled with many things unsaid.

It took you many years to say it out loud. You said: I am angry with you mom. I hate the way you handled me in my dad’s illness and death. I felt so alone in it all. The whispers echoed and God sang back to you. When you needed a friend most, there was grief, melodic and soul stretching. A rite for your passageways. A raising.

Pivotal in your most recent blooming is the realization of grief and its effect on your understanding of life. I am most grateful for your willingness to unearth life’s greatest mysteries. Empathy and kindness fill the deepest crevice of your heart. You are remarkably resilient and magical. I need you, always. Today, I am—in virtue of your bloom.

Style Score 100

I met my younger self for coffee.
She was fifteen minutes late.
I was a few minutes early and made sure to grab a table outside.
We are both wearing loose fitting clothes and no bra.
Her eyebrows are overplucked where mine have grown in.
She apologizes and tells me she’s a little hungover.
I laugh softly and tell her it’s okay.
I mention I don’t drink anymore and ask her what she did last night.
She said she went to a party with her boyfriend, but his ex-girlfriend was there.
I know that she drank too much to settle her nerves because she never feels good enough.
I don’t have it in me to tell her we still feel that way.
Finally, we order.
She gets an iced vanilla latte.
I order an herbal iced tea.
I tell her I don’t drink coffee or caffeine.
She asks why, and I tell her it makes me anxious.
I tell her my heart is sensitive.
I look in her eyes and can sense she feels the same but can’t admit it.
I tell her it’s so good to see her.
I grab her hand which is the same as mine although we are different people.
I look at her body knowing she still feels safe in it.
Detached, maybe, but safe.
She hasn’t yet known grief or fear or sickness.
I wish I could remember what that feels like.
She tells me it’s good to get out of the house.
I tell her this is the first time I’ve left my apartment all week.
I explain I finally have my own place, and it’s been the happiest time in my life.
She says she can’t wait to live by herself one day, and we both agree we love spending time alone.
She tells me she’s going to the movies after this.
She loves film and wants to work in Hollywood.
I tell her I used to work in Hollywood and think it’s overrated, but I love movies, too.
I tell her I am going to church after this.
She says she doesn’t believe in God.
I look closely at her skin and wish I still had it.
It’s rosy and sunburnt from her spring break trip to Mexico.
She says it was the first time she’s been out of the country.
I tell her I’ve been to over twenty and even lived in Paris.
She says her mom loves Paris, but they haven’t spoken in months.
I tell her to call her mom while she still can.
I then give her a hug goodbye and struggle to let go.
I want to tell her I’ve searched for her everywhere and have fought endlessly to feel like she does right now.
My eyes swell with tears, but she just smiles and tells me we’ll see each other again in a few years.

ProWriting Aid: 100

Hello my dear,

          I cannot put into words how incredibly proud you have made me. When all odds were against you, when your life was on the line, when you had nobody in your corner. You fought, you gave it everything you had and I am so pleased to inform you that you made it! You and I both know your path has not been easy; is anyone’s journey in life easy? 

Betrayed by everyone who crossed your path. Human beings who vowed to keep you safe endangered you with zero regard for your life. While seeking justice, answers for your treatment, their response was silence, cold shouldered and treated as less than. How dare they?

Your mental capacity was at its peak, you were weak. Family and friends turned a blind eye to your pain, cracked jokes and while in your lowest valley, the last bullet came from those you loved most. Those you believed loved you in return. Their last shot crumbled your entire foundation.

You laid lifeless, curtains closed, hair a mess. Your mind a blur as you processed the abuse you had endured. Civil servants giving the hardest blow, yet not one willing to own the role they played. Their actions infuriated you, an anger you had never felt before. Little did you know this negative emotion would be the light of your rebirth.

          A phoenix rising from the ashes, reborn, stronger than ever before. For you, this is a new beginning. The reminisce of the old you linger, yet this is no longer you. For you have been reborn into something brand new. A fighter, a believer, a mother, a wife, a survivor, a woman of elegance and grace. A woman reborn from none other than his grace.

          Lessons on lessons needed to be learned. But how does a man who cannot speak show you the way? You are not the only one who has had a hard time. Each soul has their own story to tell. Unique in their very own way, finding purpose in your pain is the only way. Now you sit in a house full of calm, no justice served, yet no anger at all. A heart full of love, a mind shed of confusion. A new purpose in life has been born.

          So here is my letter to you. I played a role in your life. I’ve created a past full of stories. Now my question to you. Will you allow your past to define you, or will you rise from your own ashes and make a life full of glory by beginning to write your own story?

Sincerely,

 Myself

Writing Style score on ProWritingAid is 100%

I’m sorry. Lillie, I am so sorry for everything you went through. For every feeling you felt. Every fear you had. I honestly don’t know how you made it through as well as you did. I know a lot of your prison walls were your own walls you built. But I also know you picked up on our families actions and vibes as well, which laid the foundation for so many walls and beliefs about yourself. 

I heard every wish you made. Every prayer. Every self-destructive thought. I was a passenger with all your reckless behaviors. I was there with you through every attempt you made. You walked through pure hell back then and somehow survived. The jealousy you felt watching mom take care of our little sister when she didn’t take care of you. But remember, our big sister took care of us because she was so excited to have a baby in the house. 

You were loved Lillie. I know it didn’t seem like it then, but you were only 5. Our big sister took care of you and kind of took you away from mom. But when our little sister came, mom had to take care of her because she was a baby, and you were in school by then. So maybe let’s try to give ourselves some empathy. And remember, our parents didn’t know you felt different. They just heard us saying things like we wanted to be a cheerleader or gymnast. They couldn’t know what was in your head. And that’s not your fault either princess, because even though you knew you were different; you didn’t have the vocabulary nor thinking skills to verbalize those things. 

I remember when momma sat you down and told us you were adopted. You have to admit that she broke the news to us delicately and made you feel so special. But I also remember the betrayal you felt that our birth parents so carelessly cast us aside and kept the next child they had. Honey, our birth mom was a child herself when you were born, and she couldn’t take care of us. And sweetie, we were so much better off being adopted. One day you’ll understand that. 

I was there your very first day of conversion therapy. I wish I had the words to comfort you for what you went through in those sessions. You were such a brave young girl, and you played the game to get out of there. But I know that the messages and reprogramming you received did a lifetime of damage to you. Sweetness, I need you to remember the time you’re growing up in. People like us weren’t understood back then. There’s no internet to find out you are far from alone in this world. 

But here’s what I can tell you, Lillie. One day, you’re going to be a woman. You’ll transition, you’ll have surgeries to give you the correct anatomy and you’ll be so happy. I can’t promise you that things will always be easy, but I can promise you that not only will you survive, you’re going to feel like your soul has been healed. And even better, because of everything you endured, you’re going to be an advocate for others that are scared to speak up for themselves. You’re going to help so many people. In fact, you’ll even one day change a state law that helps thousands of trans people in our state. 

And not only that. But you’ll have some pretty great bonds with people. You’ll have kids that absolutely love you to pieces too. And everything you’ve gone through is going to make you an amazing parent. Sweet girl, I know you’re hurt. I know you’re angry and so confused. But I promise you, I’m going to spend so much time with you. I’m going to let you vent and whatever else you need to let go of some of these feelings. Anytime you need me you just talk to me, and I promise I will always listen and show up for you princess.

Style Score 100

Dear Josie,

I need you to know…

I used to think I was broken beyond repair.
I didn’t realize I was being built into something stronger.

The old version of me would look at you now and say:
I didn’t know you were that strong.

You were created to fight, and I didn’t know that.
I couldn’t tell.
The pills made you weak.
The loneliness you felt had you stuck in darkness.

But all along…
You were the light.

You lived through the darkness that plagued your mind, and your strength shined through in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Even when everything inside you felt numb or shattered, something in you refused to give up.
You never thought you would know where your mother was, and that unknown lived like a shadow inside you for years.

You thought the hole in your heart would always be there—a big, gaping void that nothing could ever fill.
But God—only God—brought you peace.
He showed you the truth: your mother didn’t abandon you.
She was missing.
She was murdered.

You didn’t stay in the darkness.
You fought.
And you keep fighting.
You keep shining.

Who are you?
I was buried in brokenness.
You rose in His strength.

With love,
Your old self

Style score 74%

Dear Heather,

I wanted to write to you to thank you. Thank you for the last four years (we know it’s been longer) of energetic cleansing, clearing, manifesting, shadow integration and journey to self love after self loss. Deeply loving and caring like your role model, mother nature,you held space and grace even in what felt like wreckage. Sometimes She feels the anger, the rage, the stress of harm from humans-just like you. And yet, we have learned to feel it all. Explode like a volcano or cleanse like a tidal wave-warning those that press and push, only to calm yet again. To glow with love over and over and over, like the waves; the rebuild after each passing storm; the calm and beautiful sacrifice of the bee after the sting.

She dies and we die.

Births and we birth (and are born).

She grows and we flower.

In all Her abundance, we find our wealth. In all Her bitter, sweets are uncovered; the passing of a cloud to shroud us in light. The burrow in the bark to bring us sweet nectar.

Thank you for running toward the battles only to come through victorious…there is such a thing as surrendering and still coming out on top.

I’ve never seen such growth after ash.

Such beauty after pain.

Strength in the soft.

Nurturing in the loss.

Wonder after worry.

Grace in the faces of failure.

Such warrior in the woman.

So, thank you for never giving up. For striving, knowing you, my dear, are an honor.

Style score 100

To my younger self, 

Omissions abound in every obituary. Maybe that’s why they’re unsettling. Whether it’s a friend or a stranger, there is a wistful emptiness between the lines. I’m sure this is not how you expected this letter to start. Don’t fret. It gets worse before it gets better. 

In the second half of 2017 a family member will have two years to live (it’s been seven, the prognosis was wrong), an employer will give credit (and a fortune) for your work to con-artist, a friend will fatally overdose, and a romantic partner will ghost you because of an undisclosed disease that will eventually kill her. 

Life’s most unpleasant and rewarding aspects are still abstractions to you. You are nineteen. Yes, you know things are ephemeral, yet you expect some stability. That’s fine. We all do. If we didn’t, we’d all be sages or basket cases.

You return to Florida from California to fix the house up for sale. During this period, your septuagenarian ex-employer becomes increasingly abusive toward your coworker, roommate, and his caregiver, a kind woman recovering from cancer. You are back home to help your family, while she’s stuck with him. She saved his life on three separate occasions. However, a gold-digger was determined to remove potential stumbling blocks. Now he’s penniless.

All of this is overwhelming. You (we?) have never been decisive. Hard as you may be on yourself, you have pushed through it all. Being knocked down repeatedly makes us prone to flinching at first. It’s natural to want to draw the curtains and withdraw. Fortunately, and unfortunately, you couldn’t do this without guilt, not for long. Let yourself escape now and then.   

All the world’s problems, including yours, will still be there. You can maintain a balance between stress and escapism. Fantasy can be a neurotic maladaptation, but a total aversion to it is masochistic. Ramming your head into your present reality does no one any favors. Reason is only unstoppable in theory; it’s subservient to our emotions, which, despite our best efforts, remain untamed. 

Introspective and analytical as you may be, there is no way to prepare for so many direct hits in such quick succession. Don’t criticize yourself for feeling hopeless. Yes, you have the power to withstand and understand what is happening. However, this doesn’t happen in a day or a month. Rebuilding can be just as hard as watching everything crumble. 

We’re not here to suffer; we’re here to learn. Suffering is an irreplaceable teaching tool. In the end, it won’t matter. It’ll be like a dream. Harold Bloom praises Shakespeare’s use of ellipsis in crafting his characters, leaving out details. Blind bardolatry got the better of Bloom, as conspicuous gaps in character biographies are inevitable in plays. Those spaces between the lines of an obituary are significant, but not important. Those who know assume they are there.

This isn’t just a pretentious aside. Vast swathes of our existences interest no one, not even ourselves. In hindsight, they are a means to an end. Make the right moments count. They’re still coming up. The rest is just preparation. At 33, we’re still preparing for what will come.   

You expect other people to behave (more or less) morally, or at least rationally. Admittedly, I do too, yet I regret to inform you that this is bad. Battles for even paltry estates bring out the worst in the contestants. When your employer evicted your roommate, her bills became yours. When your friend lost his job, you hired him. The burden shouldn’t have fallen on your shoulders. 

They were both instrumental in keeping your new client happy. Yes, marketing eventually got the axe, and you fell into debt helping them, but new jobs fell into your lap. Either through sheer coincidence or supernatural serendipity, you have always secured a new job shortly after losing an old one. 

Death, betrayal, and ghosting all strike different chords. Think of it as a kind of immunization. With reflection and other forms of inner-work, they leave you stronger. Remember what Virgil said: “some day, perhaps, remembering even this will be a pleasure.”

I’m not delusional enough to think these experiences are unique, nor do I wish to pretend that I should be altogether grateful for them. Hardship is not something I want to glorify or wish upon anyone. They’ve given and taken. Have they made us better? Worse? 

The question is moot, and we don’t owe anyone an answer. What’s important is that you pushed forward. Push through the empty spaces. All your work will be rewarded, I promise. 

I would give you a hug that feels like forever,
A warmth that says, you’re not alone—never.
I would kiss away bruises, seen and unseen,
With love so soft, it wipes your spirit clean.

I would give you courage, bold like a lion’s roar,
And feathers of a phoenix, rising once more.
I would sing you love songs made just for you,
For the part that forgot love could still be true.

I would ask you to pause, take a deep breath,
Let the wind kiss your skin and hush your stress.
I’d ask you to keep walking, even through doubt,
Through quicksand moments, when you can’t see a route.

I would ask you to honor the story you’ve lived,
Each chapter and scar—each lesson it gives.
I would ask you to forgive the you from before,
To let go of the weight you don’t need anymore.

I would ask you—don’t dwell on the pain,
You are not what hurt you, you’ve got so much to gain.

ProWriting Style Score: 100

I’m slowly changing; I’m not who I used to be. You shouldn’t need to worry about who we become. I’m not that scared little girl anymore who was afraid to stand up for herself and let her voice be heard. We let ourselves get bullied because of our petite size and having a noticeable Adam’s apple. We let people walk all over us, use us, and say things behind our backs. Now, I’m no longer afraid to speak my mind. Not just because of being a woman, but I guess in a way from family genetics as well. It is the way we were raised and know that our Great Aunt is that way; she speaks her mind and speaks the truth no matter how painful, but also is filled with love.

Even though speaking up may cause a situation to get worse or have someone say something negative, we shouldn’t be scared to speak up instead of letting others speak up for us. The new me is no longer letting others speak up for me because it is our job as who we are to speak up. I’m no longer as shy as I once was, as you know how naturally shy we are in general. Of course, a part of me will forever remain shy, however as I’ve gotten older and grown up I’ve been slowly being more open and not as quiet. Around meeting new people, obviously, we are shy. I’m changing because I now know my worth in this world and have so much more self-love and self-confidence. Old me, we are beautiful and should let it shine.

I know we used to feel so self-conscious and always think about how boys could like us and see in us something other than our personality that shines within us. But do not fret, old me, our body changes unexpectedly dramatically as we get older, and it helps positively to let our confidence shine through. Remember how Mommy and Daddy used to tell us that men would always chase after us and like us? Well, our parents are right because it is true. But we do come to find a young man who sweeps us off our feet like our favorite Disney film, Cinderella, who comes to love us for who we really are. This young man is our knight in shining armor, just like we wanted.

I’m not who I used to be, old me, because of the horrible situations life tossed at us that tried to break us down. I know certain situations literally tore us apart physically and mentally. I know Mommy and Daddy separating for good unexpectedly got to us more than we realized. But the heartbreak doesn’t last forever, old me, I can promise you that, cross my heart. We are strong, we can make it through anything and come back stronger. Mommy and Daddy stay on good terms and love me and our brother. Staying together as a family is the surrounding love we need to keep in mind. Everything happens for a reason; remember that always.

I know death seems to surround us, as we still don’t quite understand why God takes the people we love so soon. Old me, it doesn’t get any easier as we grow up. As you know, we’re born, we live, and we die. Sometimes, some people we know get taken too soon. However, just remember that we are spiritually gifted, we can sense and know when our family members we lost are with us always. They become our guardian angels, and we will see them again someday. I know it’s never easy, and it gets hard, but be prepared to deal with it when the moments come. The new me understands it so much better and takes time to appreciate more what’s around and to appreciate the small, precious things before it’s too late.

Old me, there’s so much more I can say, but it won’t be enough. Instead, I can give words of advice. Yes, it takes ages to figure out what we want to do in life, but we eventually and slowly find our path to greatness. I advise not completely giving up on our faith and praying to Jesus and God when needed the most. I advise keeping in mind that no matter what, we shouldn’t give up completely. We are loved, we are wanted, we are worthy to live in this world. Old me, life is short; we never know what happens. We can be here today and gone tomorrow. So never give up, chase your dreams, live each day like it’s your last. Old me, you should see us today, you would be so proud of how far we’ve already come, as we’ve always just begun to live.

It’s never too late for anything old me, remember that, and always have love.

Love,

The New Alexcia.

Thank you for keeping my promise. That day at recess. The clear sky let the sun beat down on all our classmates running over the blacktop, rushing into box ball and wall ball cliques. A fast-moving game of soccer transpired parallel to the over-crowded jungle gym. I stood, an island in a sea of childhood chaos.

              Depression circled my neck, reached down, set roots. The sense of an outcast taking deeper hold. The constant cut of never chosen, never fit in, and it fed the coldness filling my veins. A long tunnel of loneliness loomed before me where I would break in the worst ways well before I grew to be better. I tied a rope of words around my waist as tight as a drowning man’s grip and threw it to you through time and pain. I gave it a good tug and fell.

              The fall from childhood was as rough. The relentless drag through adolescence was excruciating. Tricked to eat dog cookies by friends showed you the worst in people. Chairs pulled out after offered cracked the easy trust you had in others. Teachers ignore quiet messages for help. Coaches provided lackluster examples of leadership you emulated. Employers who’d abuse their power left you understaffed, overworked, and with a shattered confidence. Friends invited you to parties of fake booze. Relegated to the side, unable to figure out how to join the conversations. You always tried, even when those dark roots murmured you knew better.

              You made it to college; a fresh start with fear and hope. Determined to break open old wounds and irregular healed ideals to become more than the wisp of a shadowed version of you. You stumbled into new social situations. A gifted painting with the wrong words caused instant shame. The party with the over drinking leading to a solo cry-filled walk back to campus. Hard words spoken to the wrong people destroying minted bonds. Broken trust was all you knew. Cruel words were your diet for nine years. That childhood coldness still clung to your soul, no matter how you tried to escape. Still, you tried.

              The rope held as you climbed, fibers cutting into raw hands. Knees scrapped; body battered from each new situation bulldozed through a well-worn comfort zone to reach. All this, to find yourself in the sun. Surrounded by people seeking you out. Habits I fought to lose were a distant memory for you. The ever-present pain is a remote echo. People reach out to speak with, celebrate, comfort, raise you up. Confidence rebuilt shard by shard; your head raised high with a hard-won amiable smile and soft words. You climbed with depression’s rusted weights, constantly coaxing you to fall back into the easy darkness.

              I am unbelievably proud of you. How you’ve become the person I needed. You never let go, even when your hands, head, and heart were tired from the constant attempts to grow. You become the best version of us the dark told us we never could be. All the times we slid back into old habits and a bad mindset, you wiped your hands and started again. You showed me we can survive anything, even the worst of ourselves.

              Thank you for standing in the sun, where I promised to survive all the struggles ahead of us and make it back to who I always was and will be. Where we’d have better days because we would make them shine, surrounded by authenticity and support. You didn’t simply survive; you created a path with every struggled step for others to follow on their own journeys. I’m honored to be the start of you, to grow into you. I’m proud of the strength you found in a relentless world.

(100% Style Score)
               

I never fathomed we’d ascend this far.
Back then, I measured time by breakdowns.
Each breath felt borrowed.
I once wept over the same pages
that now bear the weight of your power.

You—
the incarnation I once feared to envision.
You laugh without restraint.
You speak your truth as if crafted by the
heavens,
a goddess among stars,
adorning your cracks like constellations.

I was a shadow, a whisper,
lost in the labyrinth of self-loathing,
drowning in the cacophony of my imagining.
I sought to numb the pain, to seize control of
the uncontrollable,
and in that struggle,
I lost sight of my light.

Yet behold you now —
you unearthed the courage to surrender,
to release and find liberty in relinquishment.
You discovered that in yielding; you gained the
power to choose,
to chart a course toward the life you envisioned.

Do you remember me?
The girl who dimmed her brilliance to make
others comfortable?
Who mistook mere survival for truly living?
I was small,
but I harbored the seed.

And you—
you nurtured it to flourish.

Know this: I am proud of you.
Even in the throes of pain.
Even as the mirror fractures.
You embody everything I yearned to become,
and more than I ever dared to dream.

So, receive this letter
as both a benediction and a farewell.
I am not lost—I dwell within your roots.
But this narrative is yours now.

Burn bright for the both of us.
You’ve got this.

(ProWritingAid-Style Score: 100%)

Closing Old Doors and Opening New Ones

When you take a moment to reflect, how many of the situations or opportunities you’ve encountered have run their course or come to a close? How many of those are still active? Life is one never-ending hallway with closed doors waiting for you to open them. Perhaps you fling open some of these doors, only to realize they have led to a disaster. At other times, you slam the doors shut behind you so hard that they rattle their frames. And if you’re lucky, closing or opening a door steers you to some blessing. 

Let’s be real – I haven’t been opening the best doors in my door selection. Some led to missed opportunities, others saved me from starring in a personal disaster documentary. But this time felt different. For once, I had chosen a door that didn’t scream “bad idea” the moment I touched the knob. In fact, this door led me down the road of success. This guided direction allowed me to achieve part of a dream. Was it time to close this door, or was it time to keep pushing my way through?

It was the second week of November 2013. I was packing a carry-on suitcase full of clothes for a vital weekend away. My university graduation in Victoria was the most significant event I had ever attended, and I flew there. I was Heather Adel, a graduate of the Master of Public Administration program at the University of Victoria. 

Three short months earlier, I had finished weeks’ worth of editing and rewriting my master’s project. It was eighty-six pages from start to finish. It would “hit two birds with one stone” by creating a “Three-Year Economic Development Strategy” that aligns with the master’s project guidelines and addresses the needs of my current position as Economic Development Officer. Presenting the results to the Board was easy. They had been key players in creating the document. It was my dissertation defence that had me scared.

I arrived at the university 30 minutes before my presentation. The room was compact, yet functional. The six rectangular tables sat side by side, forming a honeycomb pattern. I grabbed the five copies of my eighty-six-page strategies from the bag and placed one on each table. At the front was the data projector, which lined up with the projector screen. I plugged my computer into the existing cables. Rubbing the back of my neck, I opened my laptop and clicked on the Microsoft PowerPoint presentation I had prepared for my dissertation.  

“Please work,” I said to myself as I waited for it to upload to the screen.

I felt like it was taking forever to load, but the load time was the same as at home. Everything was up and running within minutes, and I was ready to make my oral presentation. My feeling of relief was short-lived, as the 30 minutes were up, and the show was about to begin.

The smile on my face was the best I could do as I fought the fluttering feeling in my stomach. One by one, the four examining committee members came into the room and chose a part of the honeycomb to sit at. Three of the members were university professors, and one was the president of the nonprofit organization where I worked. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” I said under my breath.

I couldn’t believe that the 24-year-old president of the society I worked for had a vote in evaluating my thesis defence.

It took me twenty minutes to wrap up my PowerPoint presentation. I was clear and confident; every slide appeared where I had purposely set it. But as I clicked the last slide, the sight of nervousness quickly reappeared – dry mouth, heart palpitations. It was now up to the honeybees to determine whether I had provided an efficient structure for the colony’s growth.

We will ask you a question as we go around the circle. That will happen twice. Following that, we will ask you to leave the room while we decide on your dissertation, the head of the examining committee stated.

My comfort near the colony had grown strongly. I sat straight up in my chair, my chest pushed slightly forward. My eyes looked each member directly in their eyes. After the first round of questions, the president of my organization skipped his second question, leading to a moment of confusion. 

“Thank you, Heather. If you don’t have questions, you can wait outside, and we will call you back once we decide,” said the committee leader.

“Just wait, do we not get to ask another question?” said the president of my organization.

I was so embarrassed. Did this guy seriously not listen when the professor instructed on how the defence would work? Gracefully, the head of the committee opened the floor back up for one more question for me to answer. 

I sat in the hallway listening to the murmuring conversations. “Are they debating over me? Did I miss an answer to a question? Oh my god, did I fail?” My fearful mind took over. 

Twenty minutes later, my professor invited me back into the room. “Congratulations, Heather; you now have a Master’s Degree in Public Administration.”

Todd and I planned our flights to Victoria to be within an hour of each other. Todd had the earlier flight, which gave him time to land, rent a car, and wait for me at the “Airport pickup” part of the terminal. 

“Hi,” I said, dropping my bag on the ground. Tightly wrapping my arms around Todd’s neck, I gave him a gentle peck, conveying affection and warmth.

“I missed you,” Todd replies, softly rubbing his hand across my cheeks. His voice was soft. I needed his calmness. 

We packed our bags in the car and went to the hotel. I had thirty minutes to change and get ready to go. I stood before the mirror, brushing off anything that looked like dirt or fuss on my black dress. It was simple and understated, but it made me feel like I had arrived. The fabric was polyester, making it compact and foldable, adding to its elegance on the go. It hugged me gently, falling just past my knees, with a small slit along the left side. This dress was enough to remind me of all that I had achieved.

I slipped on my heels and clasped a silver bracelet around my wrist. The diamond earrings Todd got me glowed beautifully in my ears. As I picked up my purse, I took one last look in the mirror, and a grin of pride rushed through my body.

“You did this, Heather,” I whispered to myself. 

We arrived at the University two hours before the scheduled graduation ceremonies. I checked myself in, where the coordinators directed me to pick up my preordered gown and tassel. In a quiet room of the ceremony hall, Todd helped me slip into the robe, slightly adjusting the collar.

My stomach throbbed intensely, mirroring a hummingbird’s rapid feeding on a brilliantly hued trumpet vine. Todd and I stepped outside. I needed a breath of fresh air before taking my last steps. We took a few photos before heading back inside.  

Standing in line with 119 other graduates, the feeling of anticipation tightened my chest. Since my last name starts with an A, I was third from the front. 

The music started.

The doors opened, and we filed in one by one. The hall glimmered with people—families, friends, professors—and somewhere out there was Todd. I saw him almost immediately. He lightly waved his hand, attempting to catch my attention and confirm that he was ready to capture my walk. 

“Heather Adel, a graduate with a master’s degree in Public Administration.”

I stepped forward.

Everything blurred a little – the lights on the stage were so bright – I couldn’t tell if Todd was capturing this moment in time with photos, but the doctor’s hand was steady as he reached out and handed me my degree. 

“Congratulations,” the professor said.

“Thank you,” I said. 

With a smile pinned widely from one cheek to the other, I reached up and turned my tassel from the right side to the left, confidently stating, “I did it, it’s done.”

I smiled and looked into the audience, finding Todd like a compass. And there he was, looking back at me with an unfamiliar emotion. His pride in me looked almost as large as my pride in myself. The love I felt from him then was more profound than ever. 

After the professor called the last name and all 120 of us had moved the tassel from one side to the other, we followed the guided path back into the gym’s auditorium. I was scanning the crowd when I felt a hand on my back. I turned around to see Todd, his eyes shining like he hadn’t stopped smiling since I walked down the aisle.

“You did it,” he said, with echoing excitement. 

“I did,” I breathed, almost laughing. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

Todd stepped closer to me, brushing a stray hair from my cheek. 

“All those nights studying, all those times you doubted yourself – this moment crushed every one of them,” Todd said. “You have a master’s degree. Nothing can take that away from you.”

They denied me permission to keep the padded frame that the school used to display my degree. Instead, the university had a tri-table, walkthrough operating system designed to frame your degree how you like it. Table 1 – Frames: Available in wood, metal, or plastic. Table 2 – Matting: Thin, wide, flat, vibrant. Table 3 – Backing: Cover the page for the back of the frame and add hangable hardware to it. 

We started walking back to the car. Todd carefully grasped my glorious prize in one arm and gripped my hand with his other.

“I’m starving,” I said. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. My quivering stomach had prevented me from eating much that morning.

“Where do you want to go?” Todd said.

As I got in the car, I thought. “Where can we go for lunch to celebrate my graduation? Someplace where the people I know will see that I look at this achievement as one that is attainable by anyone who puts their mind to it.”

“Let’s go to McDonald’s,” I said. “I’m thinking a Big Mac Combo will work just fine.”

“Seriously,” Todd replies with a chuckle.

“Yes, seriously. The girls are only 7 and 5 years old. Considering all the hard work I put into my studies at school, I want them to see how exciting it was for me to graduate. And the best way to celebrate in their eyes is going to McDonald’s.” 

I realized it was time as I sat there, full from a McDonald’s meal and still wearing a faint flow of graduation. That door – the one I worked so hard to walk through, the one that held goals shaped by who I was three years ago – needed to close. Life had thrown me curveballs I never saw coming, with bipolar disorder and multiple sclerosis rewriting the rules I thought I’d live by. But instead of mourning what could no longer be, I honoured what I accomplished. That chapter was complete. It was time to close the door with gratitude—and turn toward the next one with curiosity and hope. 

The hotel in downtown Victoria was a new spot for Todd and me to stay. It wasn’t fancy in a showy way – more like quietly elegant, a space that feels like it’s been around forever. It sits just off the main drag, a block from the ocean. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t looking.

Inside, the building was a perfect blend of classic and modern—high ceilings, old wooden floors that creak just enough, velvety sofas in deep colours, and oddly perfect light fixtures that made the whole place glow at night. 

The attached lounge was dimly lit and offered a spot for low conversations. The server led us to a pair of deep, velvet chairs tucked in a place where you could disappear and stay for hours. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Asked the server.

“I’ll take a rye and coke on the side, a Gibson’s if you have it, please,” said Todd.

”I’ll have the Volcanic Hill’s merlot, a 9oz, please.” I said.

The jazz music playing in the background was soft enough that our conversations didn’t require us to raise our voices. For about an hour, we just sat there holding hands, talking about everything and nothing–plans for the holidays, dumb inside jokes, little things that only make sense between two people.

“I can’t believe tonight is our last night,” I said.

This sentence was the same one we shared each time we got together. It was the sentence that was making it feel physically more challenging to let each other go.

Todd went quiet. Not dramatically–just…still. 

“I guess I’m running out of time,” he said, almost like a sigh.

He was already down on one knee before I could even ask what he meant. Pulling out of his pocket was a little black box.

Holding it in his left hand and opening it with his right, his hands shaking lightly, he said, “Will you marry me?”

The ring was bold, stunning, impossible to ignore. The band was broad and solid in a grounded and intentional way. In the center was a one-carat round diamond, classic and bright, but what made it different was the surrounding halo—a perfect hexagon of tiny diamonds that caught the light in every direction. This ring wasn’t just pretty; it was so magnetically engaging; it pulled you in.

On each side of the band, three teardrop-shaped settings trailed down, each holding a diamond, the shapes getting smaller the farther they went—like a slow, graceful fade. Two tiny diamonds, one on the front and one on the back of the band, were like secrets only we would know. And just beside the center stone, on both sides, were delicate figure-eight symbols, tucked into the design like a whisper of forever.

My breath caught. “Oh, my god… this is beautiful,” I said, staring at the ring.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Todd smiled as he took my hand and gently slid it onto my finger. It felt heavy, yet it seemed to belong there. I leaned in and kissed him, then wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close.

“I love you,” I said in my bubbly voice.

“I love you, too,” Todd replied. 

Somewhere behind us, a small group of people must have overheard and seen what happened as the groups shared their joy by lifting their drink glasses and yelling the word,

“Cheers.”

Todd and I grabbed our glasses and held them gracefully in the air.

“Thank you,” our voices rang out.

We finished our drinks, barely tasting them, and walked back to our room, hand in hand. It was time to celebrate–just us.

To this day, Todd swears I didn’t actually say yes to his proposal. I, of course, am confident that I said yes. But since his focus at the time was asking me the question, and the most striking ring I’d ever seen before astonished me, I have to admit he is probably right. 

But when Todd proposed, it wasn’t just a beautiful moment. It was a brand-new door standing in front of me. And behind it was a life I hadn’t dared let myself hope for. A future. A partner. A life with someone who didn’t just love me–he wanted to stand by my side, fully, completely, forever.

Over the past nine months, the doors of opportunity that were offered to me have changed from a choice to a forced marriage. From a high school dropout to a master’s degree graduate, my dreams of various future employment opportunities once held vast potential. But now, multiple sclerosis has opened doors I never intended to unlock.

But now, standing in front of Todd, I finally had a choice again. He offered me a new door to walk through, a door so wide it didn’t just welcome me, it made space for everything I carried. I knew I wanted to take that step. But stepping through that door meant I had to find the strength to achieve what my heart needed most: to have my two girls with me, building this new life together. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t simple. But for the first time in a long time, it felt possible. 

Style Score – 100%

Hey Noble,

It’s me 15-year-old Angry Auddie. Well, it’s really all of us, the Elohim of you. We wanted to write and tell you how proud we are of you for getting us here. You really did the hard work to gain our freedom, and we are so glad!

Motormouth (6) is happy that you use your words, she spent 30 years silent, waiting for her chance to say something and now she says it all! No filter, no care and no breath in between, yet she speaks truth and of life, so that brings us into balance.

Auddie (12) too has opened up to allow herself to feel again. She can laughs at herself without feeling stupid or wrong. She shows herself grace and space to learn. She affirms us and straightens our crown from time to time. She knows our worth, she believes in our dreams, and she trusts you. Her thoughts no longer sink into despair. She is too busy finding beauty amongst the ashes. 

 Thottie Auddie (19-23) too has made a complete 180! Of all of us she was wounded the most. She carried a lot of burdens. Her road was truly the darkest.  I would say she deserves this new life the most. After losing custody of our children, entering a life of sex work and creating more self-inflicted wounds to our soul, she now is the woman you are today. Happy, whole, and abstinent for the past 5 years. She looks forward to leading more women to women support groups. As she continues to live our life holy righteous and honoring our temple.  The biggest whammy for her, is that her beloved friend from 2006 is now our anchor in life. 19 years later he found his way back to her as a real-life fisherman. She loves this part. His friendship always gave her comfort and safety.  

 6 months ago, when you ran away from home; and finally took a risk, you unlocked the magic and the unknown. You bought a one-way ticket from Indiana to Oregon with $26 and the last of our hope. No version of us expected that. Of all the choices to choose when you arrived, you choose us by choosing therapy. 

So, I, Not-so-Angry-Auddie (15-19) thanks you. You spent the last 23 years of our life being bound and weighed down by the choices I had to choose from. I know I held the rope you were trying to hang on to because I needed this freedom. I am the one who got pregnant and took on adult responsibilities when all you wanted was to do the right thing. I was the one who made choices that affected others, forced to raise a child only to lose them a few years later to the system. I pierced our side good with that one.  You spent days upon decades tending to that wound, so personally I want to say Thank you. Thank you for traveling back through our darkness, undoing the shame, guilt, and regrets along the way. Thank you for growing soft, and creating a safe space for us to call home within you. You tore down every wall, every barrier and every fear that we held onto. Brick by brick, stone by stone, you made your way back filling the voids with love, wisdom and light along the way. ANd you did it with such bravery and courage. When I heard the keys of life jingling outside my prison door, I knew the time had come, I was being freed. The magic and miracles in our life have shown up because you choose to show up. Thank you for holding on when you wanted to let go. Thank you for enduring the losses, heartaches, trials, judgements, and wrongdoings. Thank you for shaking off the shackles of mistakes, abuse, and long suffering of the mind and soul. Thank you for taking the time to sift through our shattered pieces and finding the parts of us worth salvaging. Thank you for tending to our mommy issues and loving her unto death and beyond. Thank you for understanding our dad and the story he never got to tell.  Thank you for choosing us and alchemizing our pain into power and purpose. You are the Noble Strong Storm, the Famous Warrior, the one luminating the light to expand past all our darkness. You are proof that we are limitless and can exceed all expectations, even our own. Keep free-falling, you got this!

Thank you for loving us,

Not-so-Angry-Anymore-Auddie.

P.S. WE all would like you to put the cigarettes down. I know I picked them up but older you wants more time to live and she will thank you for it later! 

 Writing style score 91

If I was the five-year-old version of myself,
I would be ecstatic to have someone like you on my shelf.
I would gaze up at you and see a force,
And automatically know that your strength is my source.
If I was the ten-year-old version of myself,
I could have nothing and know that I have endless wealth.
I would look to you and say ‘I wish I could be just like you one day’.
If I was the fifteen-year-old version of myself,
I would boast about your progress and how far you have come with no help.
You navigate this world with a heavy weight on your shoulders,
But still remain strong as if your purse are boulders.
However, if the twenty-year-old version of myself could talk to me today,
Her words would remain in her throat because she knows there is no right thing to say.
She would hold out her arms and pull me into her embrace,
And she would rock me side to side as she strokes my face.
She knows words would not suffice because my spirit has been broken.
So, the vibrato from her hums soothe my soul as unnecessary words are left unspoken.
The twenty-five-year-old version of myself would have so much to say,
Because even though yesterday you couldn’t, today we have to pray.
No person should carry the weight of the world on their shoulders,
And no person should have to endure an endless fight like war soldiers.
Because that fight has already been won,
So, the only thing left to do is to give myself over to the Son.

Style Score: 78%

Dear Younger Me,

The ‘New Me’ that exists today wouldn’t be possible without our journey together. The doubts and beliefs of the ‘Old Me’ have shaped the resilience and strength I now possess. Together, we’ve created a version of myself I am truly proud of.

Old Me: I doubted my resilience in the face of hardship.
New Me: Storms may rage, but my inner strength is legit.

Old Me: I believed my self-worth depended on self-sacrifice.
New Me: Setting boundaries taught me how to be more than right.

Old Me: I suppressed my individuality to gain acceptance.
New Me: Your unique spirit shines brightly; no exceptions.

Old Me: I built walls around my heart to protect myself.
New Me: An open heart can mend and bring true wealth.

Old Me: I confused comfort with genuine connection.
New Me: Actual love is a vibrant dance, not mere affection.

Old Me: I met anger with anger, fueling the cycle.
New Me: Understanding hearts can overcome the entitled.

Old Me: My mind was a battlefield of worries and “what ifs.”
New Me: Stillness within brings wisdom’s gentle gifts.

Old Me: I didn’t believe lasting joy was attainable for me.
New Me: Your inner light can spark a free destiny.

Old Me: I clung to the familiar, even when it didn’t serve me.
New Me: Learning how to let go allowed me to be free.

Both versions are the perfect mixture of me,
I’m proud of the person I turned out to be!

(Style Score: 100)

Dear Danéa,
Hi sweet girl! I want you to keep your head up, okay? I know these days are difficult, and you’re confused, but the storm will pass. Follow your first mind instead of allowing the opinions of others cloud your judgment. You know what’s best for you. Stop asking for opinions and just do whatever. Those people are not your friends. Stop hanging out with them. Leave them where they are. Other people’s opinions don’t matter. I know you’re tired of hearing that, but it’s true. Even if you do everything they ask, they will still make you the bad guy. So, just be yourself. Learn to love yourself. I don’t mean doing face masks, getting massages, or showering–though that’s good, too! Really take care of yourself. Learn to say no. You’re safe now. Stop trying to fit into the boxes of your past. Eat well; For the love of stars, please stop eating on campus and find somebody with a kitchen. Learn to get out of your comfort zone! It’s terrifying, I know, but very necessary for where you’re going. Relationship-wise, the man you’re thinking about has always loved and cared about you. He just has a funny, self-sabotaging way of showing it. Don’t be too hard on him or yourself. Allow him his space, but you don’t have to stop talking to him completely. You’ll regret it later. Your intuition was always right with everything and especially him–don’t let his friends get to you. You won’t move on from him with how you’re trying to now. Just feel your emotions for him and process them through art. Everything will all work out! Also, don’t get another car—just move out of the country, please. But even if you get the car, it’ll be alright, but you’ll sell it for less than half of what you paid for it. Don’t listen to your aunt. Moving to Los Angeles would be a mistake! Follow your gut feeling–she’s trying to use you. Always, always, always remember that you’re divinely guided, protected, and loved. You are an insanely talented and beautiful individual. Shine your light on the world. People need to hear your voice, so use it. Take those ready and willing to go with you on your journey. The rest, you will meet along the way. Keep smiling, but if you need to cry, go ahead. There’s love in tears, too. Your sister loves you and remembers you and your voice. You don’t need to fear her forgetting you when you leave. Cut your nana off, it’ll help heal you, trust me. Don’t respond to any texts from past individuals. It’s a test. They don’t care about you, only what you can offer them. I said it before, and I’ll say it again–you’re loved and protected, everything is working out for you perfectly. Stay true to yourself and spread love around you even when it’s hard.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 87%