Dear College,

You didn’t just fail me you tried to erase me.

I came to you as a disabled, neurodivergent woman, seeking education and growth. Instead, I encountered a system that prioritized appearances over accessibility, conformity over compassion.
Your policies and procedures created barriers rather than support. The process to obtain accommodations was convoluted and dismissive, making it clear that my needs were an inconvenience.
I was silenced, overlooked, and made to feel like I didn’t belong. The very institution that should have empowered me instead diminished me.
But I refuse to be erased.
I took the pain, the frustration, the injustice and I transformed it into purpose. I became an advocate, a voice for those who are often silenced. I found strength in my identity and purpose in my struggle.
You may have tried to diminish me, but I emerged more powerful than ever. I am a disabled woman, proud and unyielding, and I will continue to fight for a world where everyone is seen, heard, and valued.

I used to fold myself small—
into silence, into compliance, into whatever shape felt safest. I masked my truth because the world told me it was “too much.” Too loud. Too different. Too complicated. Too me.

But here’s how I’m blossoming:

I am no longer asking for permission to exist as I am.

I wear what feels right on my body. I speak in the ways my brain works. I stim without apology. I teach without pretending to be “neutral.” I write books that disrupt the systems that once tried to erase me. I’m reclaiming space—not just in rooms, but in the narrative itself.

This isn’t a soft bloom. It’s messy and raw and defiant.
But it’s mine.

And I’m not shrinking back.

Sincerely,
Someone finally growing in her own direction

I remember how you wore that jacket
like a shield—
not for the cold,
but to disappear,
to quiet the noise,
to hide the pain no one asked about.

You were surviving
in a world that wanted you silent,
still,
small.
They told you
what you couldn’t do,
couldn’t be—
as if your worth could be measured
by their narrow lines.

But you kept going.
You stumbled,
you screamed into pillows,
you questioned everything—
and still,
you built something out of the pieces
they tried to break.

I see you now—
no longer shrinking.
You wear what you want.
You say what they never let you say.
You’ve become someone
the old you couldn’t yet imagine.

If I could speak to you,
I wouldn’t offer hope like a promise.
I’d say this:

You’re not broken.
You’re not wrong.
You are real.
And you made it—not because of them.
In spite of them.

I speak, but my words fall through the cracks,
half-heard, half-seen, never fully intact.
They think they know me, think they can tell,
but the pieces they catch are broken as well.
I smile and nod, I play my part,
but none can see the battle in my heart.
They don’t know the silence that shouts inside,
the rage I swallow, the tears I hide.
I try to fit, I try to belong,
but the tune they play is a different song.
I’m not what they expect, not what they want,
a puzzle they try to solve but can’t confront.
I’m too much and too little, a ghost in between,
a person they think they’ve already seen.
But they only catch fragments, never the whole,
they don’t understand the depth of me.
I’m a storm behind a still face,
a maze of thoughts they cannot trace.
Misunderstood, I walk this line,
caught between the world and my mind.
But I’ll keep speaking, even if they don’t hear,
I’ll keep existing, despite the fear.
I am more than they will ever know,
a flame they’ll never let me show.

From the moment I first held you in my hands, you have been my quiet refuge—a steady rhythm in a world that often moves too fast. With every stitch, you remind me that patience creates beauty, that even the smallest loops of effort can come together to form something warm, something whole, something entirely my own.

You are more than just yarn and loom; you are the soft hum of creativity, the gentle whisper of comfort on hard days. In your embrace, my hands find purpose, my mind finds ease, and my heart finds peace. You turn tangled strands into something strong, something meaningful—just as you have done for me.

No matter where life takes me, I know you will always be there, waiting with open stitches, ready to be picked up and loved again.

In 2025, the dawn will break,
A year of promise, a path to take.
With goals ahead, so bold, so bright,
A future waiting, full of light.

To grow in wisdom, deepen grace,
To meet each challenge face to face.
With every step, a lesson learned,
A world of progress to be earned.

In 2025, I’ll find my way,
Through brighter mornings, bolder days.
A heart more open, free from doubt,
With dreams and goals that shout and shout.

To lift the voices of the unheard,
To listen closely, every word.
To build connections, break down walls,
And rise together when life calls.

With every student, every friend,
I’ll work to help them to transcend.
To guide, to teach, to help them see,
The potential in their hearts to be.

In 2025, I’ll challenge fear,
Step forward boldly, draw more near.
To seek new knowledge, spark new fires,
To fuel the dreams and deep desires.

With each new day, I’ll take the chance,
To lead with love, to teach, to dance.
To make a difference in every way,
And celebrate the work I’ll do each day.

The goals ahead are filled with might,
And I will walk with steady light.
In 2025, I’ll boldly claim,
A year to rise, to grow, to aim.

In 2024, a moment shone bright,
A day when everything felt just right.
The classroom buzzed with quiet pride,
As understanding grew from side to side.

A breakthrough bloomed, soft and clear,
A quiet smile, a spark of cheer.
A student reached a place so new,
And in that moment, strength just grew.

The hard work paid, the effort true,
A bond of trust in all they knew.
In that small moment, a world was changed,
And everything felt wonderfully rearranged.

A memory to carry, warm and near,
A reminder that growth is always here.
2024 brought joy anew,
A year of progress, of dreams in view.

Dear Younger Me,

I know how hard it is. The world around you seems so big, filled with voices, laughter, and sounds you want to join, but can’t. You have so much to say, but it feels trapped inside, like you’re watching life from behind a window you can’t open. There’s frustration, sometimes sadness, and a worry that maybe others won’t understand you.

But I want you to know something beautiful: you will find your voice. It will take time, patience, and moments when it feels impossible, but slowly, those words will come. One sound at a time, then words, then sentences you’ll start to share everything you feel. You’re building a bridge to the world, one that only you could build, and it will be worth every step.

Overcoming this challenge will shape you in ways you can’t yet see. You’ll understand what it feels like to be unheard, and that understanding will make you compassionate. You’ll meet others who struggle, who feel lost or different, and you’ll be able to reach them because you understand. And one day, you’ll stand in front of others, using your voice to make a difference for those who feel unseen.

So keep going, little me. Take each small step, and know you are stronger than you think. You’re on a journey that will make you powerful in ways you can’t even imagine, and the world is waiting to hear what only you can say.

Thank you for the kindness shown,
For every cheer as I’ve grown,
For moments big and those so small,
You’ve lifted me through it all.

From lessons learned and paths unknown,
To seeds of strength that you’ve sown,
With each step I’ve found my way,
Held by support day by day.

In every triumph, every fall,
Your belief has stood so tall,
A guiding light, a steady hand,
Helping me to bravely stand.

So here’s my thanks, from heart to pen,
For helping me to rise again,
In gratitude, these words I share,
For the love you always bear.