Dear Unsealers,

I wrote this poem as an homage to our ancestors, when spirituality came before organized religion, when we viewed the world with wonder, and when we longed for understanding of life and death:

Primitivo

I worship the Sun

And his daughter, the Moon

I pray to the sky; morn, evening, and noon

The stars I will use as my guide and my light

To honor my ancestors throughout the night

And I pray to the gods of the wind and the rain

For peace and strength and no more of the pain

For my mother, the Earth, and my father, the Sea

Gave life and birth for me to be

The son of comets and shooting stars

My brothers Venus, Earth, and Mars

Watch over me as I wake and rest

And live my life as I do best

For when my body returns to clay

The stars will cradle me, and there I’ll stay

In the cosmic dance of chance and fate,
A story unfolds, a love so great.
A Spectrum of colors, a call in the night,
Where fate intervened, two worlds took flight.

In the realm of pixels and data streams,
A Spectrum call center, where reality gleams.
As a troubleshooter, I entered the scene,
Little did I know, fate was foreseen.

In the sunshine state, where palm trees sway,
Florida’s warmth met Ohio’s gray.
A sweet voice on my line,
A connection so divine.

Fate had more in its grand design.
Little did I know, she’d soon be mine,
She insisted on more, a number to exchange,
Feeding into destiny’s range.

Two and a half years, our connection grew,
Before I gave into her irresistible pursuit.
A realization of self-discovery, coming to light,
As I embraced the truth of my own unique sight.

In the closet’s shadow, I found my way,
Guided by fate’s hand, in the light of day.
Coming out, my thoughts unfurled,
She stood by my side, as I reshaped my world.

Long-distance whispers across state lines,
A love so deep, like vintage wines.
Florida to Ohio, miles and miles apart,
Yet, she captured my soul and entered my heart.

Through video calls and messages, love took its place,
A connection so strong, no distance can erase.
Her laughter echoed through a virtual space,
Serenading me in a symphony of love and unspoken grace.

In her, I found a safe harbor, a haven of peace,
Long-distance love, a sweet release.
She, a lighthouse, guiding me through,
In the vast ocean of love, our connection grew.

Miles may stretch, but love knows no bounds,
With the help of fate, our story resounds.
A love that bridges the space and time,
A testament to fate, beautifully sublime.

Here’s to the place where it all began,
Our fate smiled, as it crafted our unique plan.
In the Spectrum of love, we found our place,
A love story written by destiny’s grace.

At 18 years old I was pushed down 150 stairs I lost part of my mobility from my waist down. Later I was chased out of a grocery story by the same guy due to my job.

As the dawn of adulthood arrived lifes journey began,
With dreams and aspirations the world embraced your plan.
Fate took a turn delivering a blow
Presenting challenges and a different path to follow.

In the midst of bliss when skies were clear
Your chosen path deviated,. You persevered without fear.
With a spirit and heart that shines so bright
You face obstacles that obstruct your sight.

From, within newfound strength emerges to prevail
A boundless courage and unwavering will to sail.
Unrestricted by limits imposed by destinys hand
You rise above undeterred and innately grand.

Though there may be moments of weakness or doubt
Your resilience tells a tale that transcends throughout.
Every step you take becomes a triumph in its right
A soaring spirit unconfined and unbound by plight.

Adapting is your gift as you redefine what it means
The essence of strength in all its scenes.
Your story becomes a beacon for others to admire
Inspiring hearts amidst trials that may transpire.

For in your courage one can witness with clarity,
A portrait of resilience to be seen in totality.
A testament, to fortitudes resounding song,
Staying strong when things have gone wrong.

In the depths of secrecy a storm quietly gathers,
Challenges, with ovaries a struggle
Medications combat the cries of pain
Doubts creep in as time seems to wane.

The idea of having children feels distant
Anxiety builds with doctors delays persistent.
Once secure now ovaries face uncertaintys grasp
Decisions loom heavily making thoughts clasped.

There is no comfort in this fight
Yet bravery grows stronger with each daily plight.
Strength is discovered in enduring lifes strife
Hope perseveres amidst the life.

Though fears and doubts may linger on
Resilience emerges through this challenging con.
In battles both seen and unseen, by all eyes
A spirit endures, unyielding and wise.

Note: I wrote this last New Years day. I found and re-read it yesterday and realized that in part that my prayer was answered. Some of it is still in the process of being answered.

As we close the curtain on 2022 and pull back the curtains to a bright, new you I don’t know what to expect. I couldn’t have imagined 2022 going the way it did, so please forgive my anxious anticipation, and please know that it is also mixed with an excitement and enthusiasm to reset and begin again.

I pray that I change, heal, and progress throughout the year. I pray that you teach me the lessons God knows I need to learn to be who He has created me to be. I pray that you are a gentle teacher full of compassion, kindness, “I love yous” and and “I’m sorrys.” I hope this year is full of adventures, full of laughter and love, and that it is surrounded with healthy friendships that continually call us both to excellence and holiness.

Most importantly I want to strengthen my relationship with God, to listen to his voice, to trust and rely on Him fully in every moment and to give Him everything.

I ask for protection for my………
Mind
Heart
Soul
Body
Friends
Family
Home

in the upcoming year. Deliver us Lord from every temptation, evil, danger and/or harm that the enemy could imagine. Make us holy.

2023 you have large shoes to fill. I know the Lord has given you a big purpose to fulfill. I know that the Lord is just a step ahead of me–He’s already in 2023 dealing with each trial, making a message out of a mess and guiding my footsteps. And so I dare to follow Him wholeheartedly into the unknown, into the heart of you–2023. Welcome 2023! I can’t wait to see what you have in store.

Sincerely,

My heart is broke I’m begining to sulk
My tears are for fears that you might not be back do you have to go away for this long? I don’t think Im strong for lack of a better word, maybe I’m being absurd
First time I saw you I knew you were the one.
Starring in to each others eyes our lips touched and that was it, I was hit with cupid’s arrow.
Now years later a lie was created
doubted thoughts loom and you assume.
My heart drops what did I do I never knew you felt like this I must’ve missed.
I want to give you a kiss and be in bliss again with you, this what I really want to do
I miss you

Please bear with me as this is something that I’ve been wanting to do & finally got the courage to do so a freestyle fiction story that has been on my mind.

A child’s core memories develop at 5. Her core memories were not like others. Her core memory was waking up from her sleep as she was in the backseat of a car covered with her dad’s jacket while he was speeding on the freeway. She felt safe seeing her dad and went back to sleep as he told her to do.

She wasn’t going to school, but she went from home to home thinking about what a great time she was having with her dad. She went with the stepmom to be with her siblings. She doesn’t recall how she spent her time there but just the vhs movie that the stepmom threw away. Once dad picked her up, he noticed she was sad. Since her dad asked her what happened, she did just that. Dad said, “Wait in the car. I’ll be right back.” She just knew that her dad was going to take care of it. In her world full of chaos, all she can do was observe. When it felt like she was all, alone she realized that she was always guided and protected.

She went with another stepmom who was just a sweet and caring soul. She treated her right, and she knew, being in her presence, that everything would be just fine.

Within the depths of my souls chambers
Resides a tale cloaked and concealed by mist.
A story of shadows, of darkness
Where whispers of despair seep.

The past a tempestuous journey endured,
Through valleys veiled in haze.
Whispers of melancholy a melody,
Played beneath the moons gaze.

Why withhold this tale from those I cherish?
The ache, the anguish heavy to bear.
To shield them from burdens I chose to hide
Preserving their hearts with love and care.

For spoken words cannot be unheard
Revealing pain and stirring wounds.
To spare their hearts untouched by despair
Silence became my tender safeguard.

Not, out of shame or deceitful embrace
As loves shield, protective grace.
I treasure their laughter and unrestrained joy
A sanctuary where suffering remains unnamed.

So within the refuge of my hearts retreat
Rests a truth, a story.
Through loves rhythm and unspoken pact
Their serenity is preserved entirely.So I conceal this chapter, this history,
Deep within the chambers of my soul it silently endures.
Because love, an treasured shade
Warrants a canvas that’s untainted and sincere.

I have been happily married for 51 years to a former New York Jets professional football player turned lawyer and educator, my husband Hank. We met and married young in my sophomore year in college. I was a pioneering woman student in the first 4-year class of women admitted to Princeton University. Being married in no way slowed down my academic ambitions: I graduated Phi Beta Kappa in three years from Princeton, where I was also a founding member of the women’s varsity basketball team and the Medieval Society of Princeton. I went on to earn a Ph.D. in Medieval Studies at Yale University and a law degree at Columbia University School of Law. I was among the first women to make partner at my international law firm in its New York City office. There I founded and headed the firm’s Exempt Organizations group representing charities, their boards, and their donors. Among my clients were the Louvre Museum, Metropolitan Museum of Art, the American Museum of Natural History, the Robin Hood Foundation, and Doctors Without Borders USA, of which I was the founding American director and where I still chair the Board of Advisors. I also taught the law of nonprofits at Harvard Law School for 9 years.

My husband and I have led an exciting personal, educational, professional, and recreational life together. That great life was turned upside down on April 18, 2016, when Hank collapsed at the gym and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital. After many examinations and tests, doctors determined a problem with his brain. Now, almost 8 years later and after having seen more than 70 doctors and specialists, we still do not have a diagnosis for my husband’s brain condition. We do, however, suspect that the brain challenges that he fights every day are attributable to the 16 years of his life spent playing tackle football from Pop Warner to the pros. Recent studies by the Boston University UNITE Brain Bank and the Concussion Legacy Foundation show that the risk of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (“CTE”) increases with every year of tackle football played. Development of CTE is correlated with number of years played, number of sub-concussive hits received, and the force of each hit. Unfortunately CTE cannot yet be diagnosed during life. Hank has joined thousands of athletes and their families in pledging his brain to the UNITE Brain Bank after his death. Although he does not exhibit any of the typical symptoms of CTE, we wonder whether the disruptions of his autonomic nervous system that he now lives with are an atypical presentation of CTE.

When my husband was stricken in 2016, he was suddenly debilitated, unable to walk more than a few steps without using a wheelchair. For a man who considered himself a 65-year-old stud, this was a shock and very depressing. In an instant, our favorite activities of mountain climbing in Europe, snow-shoeing in New England, and trekking in Scandinavia were over for us. Everyday living was so challenging that we had to move out of our house to the home we had bought for my Mother where we might live on a single level.

Thinking my husband was dying, we decided in 2016 that I should see a ”widowhood counselor” to help me deal with the sudden changes in our lives. The counselor asked me one day, “What in your earlier life made you so extraordinarily capable of coping with challenges?” That question stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t analyzed capability. I was just a doer—somebody who got things done by putting one foot in front of the other, solving complex problems step-by-step with clear intellect and determination. Where did that life approach come from?

When I was 16, my parents announced to my older sister, younger brother and me that they wanted to have another baby. My older sister was married and moved to the west coast a few months after my mother gave birth to my younger sister during my junior year of high school. Unfortunately, my Mother experienced afterbirth bleeding and was repeatedly hospitalized for surgery, even having a near-death experience. My Father was so stressed with this, he had a heart attack and was hospitalized in a different hospital. I found myself at home with a precious infant sister, a younger brother to feed and get to and from school, household scheduling and tasks, and visiting my parents in their respective hospitals. This was a formative coping experience for me, yet one that I know confronts many other young people all over the country and the world. Over the years, my Father had multiple additional health issues that required my involvement including managing my parents’ affairs. After my Father’s death, my husband and I moved my Mother across the street from us so that we could be more deeply involved in her Alzheimer’s care. We managed her medical care, her finances, and spent hours with her every day enjoying her company and supporting her aides. In fact, my husband’s 2016 collapse came at the same time that my Mother’s dementia significantly worsened requiring more of my daily involvement as she stopped walking and needed to be moved in and out of bed several times a day with a Hoyer lift requiring two people.

In my academic life, being in the first class of women at Princeton had presented its own challenges. Many male students and alumni were openly hostile to women. A professor organized a shunning incident against me in a course where I was the only woman student, which only motivated me to work harder. I earned an A+ in that course and an apology from the professor. Only recently did I realize that I never had a woman professor at Princeton, at Yale Graduate School, or at Columbia Law School. Dealing with men and their conscious or unconscious biases was par for the course. Sports were no exception. As the former captain of my high school varsity basketball team, I suited up my first week at Princeton and went to the gym to shoot baskets, hoping to get into a pick-up game. When I asked for a basketball at the equipment room, I was told by the several cross-armed equipment men that there were no basketballs for “girls”. When I asked about the 4 racks of basketballs behind them, I was told those were only for “men.” My efforts to win over the equipment men failed but I was not about to accept that treatment. So I went through the building until I found the new women’s athletic director and explained my problem. She rolled her eyes at the equipment men’s recalcitrance and told me to walk back slowly and ask for a ball again. By the time I got back downstairs to the equipment room, one rack of basketballs had been rolled to the side and bore a hand-lettered sign saying “Girls.” I went back to the gym every day for many days to shoot baskets with balls from that rack. I was the only girl asking. The “men” never let me join a pick-up game, but the women’s athletic director did watch me every day. The next fall she called me and said, “I’ve decided to form a women’s varsity basketball team and my first call is to you!” I was glad to join. And by the time later that year that I married the big football star, the equipment men who had once denied me a basketball were such my close buddies that they offered to throw me a bridal shower.

In graduate school, I was the only woman Ph.D. in my graduating group along with 6 men. The head of my department said, “I’ll place the men in their jobs first and then I’ll get to you.” My reaction? “The hell with this! I’m getting my own job.” And I did. That infuriated the department head, who believed it was his right to place graduate students. When I decided to apply to law school several years later, he refused to provide any paperwork documenting my Ph.D. Rather than fight with an older aggrieved man, I contacted the head of the Yale Graduate School. He said, “Well, I could direct him to write for you but who knows what he might say. I would prefer to write for you myself.” Thus, I ended up with a much better letter of recommendation than I would otherwise have received. I was accepted at both of the law schools to which I applied. When I graduated as an honors scholar from Columbia Law School, I was advised that I had 3 strikes against me: I had a Ph.D., I was married, and I was a woman. A senior professor advised me to “Go be a big fish in a little pond.” I told him “But I want to be a big fish in a big pond” and so I accepted the offer of a top-10 international law firm in New York City. After working at the firm for over 30 years, I was honored to receive a trophy as a “Trailblazer” being the first woman in the Firm’s more than 140-year history to have “run the table” from summer associate to partner to senior partner/group head to retirement.

The late Rosalynn Carter famously said “There are only four kinds of people in the world: Those who have been caregivers, those who currently are caregivers, those who will be caregivers, and those who will need caregivers.” Managing my husband’s healthcare at the same time I was managing my Mother’s care during her last years was incredibly stressful. Nonetheless, I know that I am incredibly privileged having had supportive family, friends, aides and health insurance to help me bear this load. I have turned my intellect to learning as much as I can about brain health and supporting Hank with medical appointments, tests, physical therapy, neuropsychological therapy, nutrition and sleep. In addition, I have sought out opportunities for my husband to replace his past sports activities with intellectual activities that help him cope with the grief of losing his former life while stimulating his brain. The main activities Hank turned to were writing poetry and singing his poems. In a caregivers group I participate in at our local Glen Cove Hospital, I was asked to share with the group an activity that my husband could manage. When I said that Hank had taken up poetry to help him cope, the caregiver sitting next to me piped up, “Well, I am the Poet Laureate of Nassau County, and I teach poetry.” I literally ran after this woman at the end of the meeting and cornered her in the hospital hallway. “May I bring my husband to your class, please?” She replied, “Yes, but you can’t just bring him. If you come, you have to write too.”

So that is how Hank and I started working with now-former Poet Laureate Evelyn Kandel, who is also an Unsealed Writer. We have spent hours and hours preparing for and with Evelyn and our new classmates in her weekly classes over the past several years. She encouraged Hank to write a book about his football and brain experiences, which he mustered the effort and courage to do. His 2022 book, entitled “Head Hits I Remember: Football, Dysautonomia, and my Brain” is a very honest exploration of his athleticism and brain challenges. Our poems are also included in the new anthology of Evelyn’s students entitled “13 Poets From Long Island” published in September 2023. So from having to “give up” many activities Hank and I did for decades before, we have now elected to invest our time and energies in our “new normal” which includes poetry and singing alongside daily exercise, nutrition and healthy sleep. I am thrilled to report that Hank has made huge strides in recovery, vastly improving his physical stamina and walking ability. We have also met and enjoyed the company of a new set of friends whom we now regularly see via Zoom poetry meetings.

Ironically, on October 15, 2023, in a simple trip-and-fall, I managed to break my knee cap into three pieces requiring surgery, three weeks in the hospital, and wearing a cumbersome Bledsoe Brace. Now I am on the cusp of starting outpatient physical therapy to regain my normal walking gait. What a turnabout in our lives! In an instant, I was transformed from the perennial care-giver to the care-receiver. We quickly learned several lessons. First, thank goodness for the family and friends who jumped in to help us—his sister and my sister dropping off food for Hank and having him for dinner, for instance. Remember the precious infant sister I cared for? She is now my health-care proxy actively engaged in my recovery. Second, Hank actually benefitted from swapping roles. He found strength to drive himself to and from the hospital to visit me and the confidence to manage household chores in my absence. Third, we were reminded again that life circumstances are never static; they ebb and flow constantly. Despite my feeling incredibly fit and stable, one day-dreaming step looking up at the sky through beautiful willows had proved otherwise. None of us is invincible. I am not invincible.

Equally as important, I, a caregiver for so long, have had to relax into being the care-receiver, asking for and accepting support from my family and community of friends. I am extremely grateful to all of them, including my “new” friends and colleagues in poetry. Many public libraries and adult-education programs offer classes in poetry, in journaling, in writing. I encourage anyone needing to jump-start a change in outlook to give them a try.

Check out my poem in the book “13 Poets From Long Island” on Amazon – It is free for those with Kindle Unlimited.

Chasing, pacing, racing
Only in my dreams
I want so bad to see them come true
But I haven’t come to terms with seeing it thru my desires and wants take second stage
To the battle that is everyday
Someday I hope I can make them happen
Glory day, I hope and pray for my time to come
Though It lasts just a second
And then it ends…
it’s already written

A kiss is the way that hearts can connect

Through lips that are tender, soft, and knowing

The feeling of love is warm, gentle, and glowing

When loving lips meet, the hearts feel the effect

❤️

Hold the embrace and never let go

Time stops for the kiss so hearts can then speak

They whisper sweet words that are caring and meek

Their language is subtle and spoken just so

❤️❤️

What they say is a secret transmitted in code

They plan for the future and forgetting the past

Hearts speak of a mystery that will linger and last

The lips move that message in a soft, silent mode

❤️❤️❤️

When the spoken “I love you” is not quite sufficient

It’s time for the hearts to speak once again

And send their sweet poems through pathways that bend

Back through our lips in a way so efficient

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Should Sadness visit unannounced

And you wonder “why?”

Greet them at your door

Have them come inside

Offer them a drink

Ask them why they’re here

Pull open the shades

So Sunlight will appear

Politely and gently

Listen to concerns

Kindly end the chat

Ask them never to return

But if Sadness reappears

And their shadow mars your Zen

Rely upon your Feng Shui

And close your door on them again

Dear Mr. —

Did you know the NFL’s Ryan Grant also participated in basketball and track and field during his time at Don Bosco Prep School in New Jersey? Did you know the NBA’s Adonal Foyle still holds the record in New York for most points in a high school tournament game? Did you know former Suffern High School girls’ lacrosse star Crysti Foote is a member of the Canadian National Team and is recognized as one of the best female players in the world? Inspired by the commitment and passion all great athletes demonstrate, I know both the technicalities of sports and interesting facts about the athletes themselves, which is why I believe if I become a reporter for MSG Varsity I will be a powerful conduit between the athletes and the tri-state community. I will ask questions the viewers want to know and receive honest answers from athletes who respect my knowledge.

My confidence in my future success is based on the achievements of my past as well as my present occupation. As a young 21-year-old college graduate, I began writing for NBA.com and WNBA.com. With my own swagger, I entered NBA and WNBA locker rooms to interview athletes double my size among journalists twice my age. Publishing hundreds of articles and blogs on NBA.com, WNBA.com, D-league.com, NikeWomen.com, and WomensProSoccer.com, I have also had my fair share of on-air opportunities. Currently, I am a co-host for On the Mike With Mike Sherman, a weekly entertainment, lifestyle, and sports show that airs on a CBS affiliate (My33) in South Florida. Last season, when the 49ers took on the Giants in New Jersey, I was there to interview athletes and report back on the night’s events for CBS’ San Francisco affiliate. I have reported local news on Long Island and worked as a sports reporter for Artsis Media, where I shot, edited, wrote, and produced all my own stories.

Throughout my tenure at Columbia University, I majored in sociology and focused on the sociological impact of sports. Through my 40-plus page senior thesis, I discovered that to have longevity and acceptance as a female sports reporter, you must be a sports connoisseur yourself. Voted biggest jock in my high school senior superlatives, I have lived, breathed, and loved sports throughout my life. I believe if given a chance I will be recognized and respected by the sports world for telling compelling stories and conducting in-depth thought-provoking interviews. In other words, I’m a talented young recruit with an All-American future and would love to help the MSG Varsity team work its way to the top of the game.

Sincerely,

This weekend, I was standing on top of a hill with a fortress and a lighthouse that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea in a small beach town in Spain called Tossa De Mer. It was absolutely breathtaking. And I never even heard of this place before we arrived. All I could think was, “How in the world did I get here?”

Flashback five years ago, I was at a job in Ohio, and I was not particularly happy for many reasons. Guided by a strong intuition (and maybe my misery as well), I left my career as a sportscaster to start my own company, theunsealed.com. We are a platform that allows people to share personal stories in an effort to use writing to transform pain into power. If you know me, you know The Unsealed fuels my soul. It makes me excited to wake up in the morning and fills my life with meaning and purpose. For the first three years after starting my company, I worked every single day – most of the time, ten hours a day. No vacations. No days off. And I was perfectly happy doing so.

Personally, I have always enjoyed dating and the attention that comes with it, but after two very serious relationships in my early and mid-twenties, for a long time, I didn’t want anything serious. I always feared that a relationship would and could hold me back, especially when I was a sportscaster, and I didn’t know what city or what job would be next. However, as I became more certain that The Unsealed was what I wanted to do and could do with my life, I became cautiously more open to the idea of a partnership.

Then, after the pandemic, my brother sent me an online flyer for an event. It was called Miami Tech Night; a networking event held every Wednesday in Miami for people who work in tech. My brother thought it would be a great opportunity for me to meet people in my industry. So, as I usually do, I followed my brother’s advice. It was maybe my second or third time attending when this tall, handsome man approached me and asked me what I did for a living. I happily told him, and then he shared a little bit about his career. As we chatted more and more, he revealed that he had started a successful online business in his 20s and sold it. I was impressed, intrigued, and inspired. He invited me to my favorite taco spot down the street to continue the conversation after the event. We quickly realized we had similar interests and family values.

From there, we started spending time together almost daily. Every week seemed to get better and better. So, one day, about three months into our relationship, I suggested getting away from Miami for a few weeks during the summer. Summers are so hot, muggy, and humid in Miami. I proposed L.A., and he said he had wanted for a while to take this massive three-month trip to Europe. He asked if I would be willing to come along. In theory, it sounded amazing, but I needed to work! Plus, leaving my dog for that long would not be easy for me.

My parents agreed to watch my dog, and my boyfriend promised me I could work as much as I wanted on the trip. He’s been where I am, so he gets it. I agreed to go, and for the first time maybe ever, I am figuring out how to have a work-life balance, waking up early to work before we go out for an excursion, and finding cafes in every city to continue to put in at least eight hours every weekday. Instead of resenting me, my boyfriend pushes me to wake up early and goes to play tennis when he doesn’t have his own work to get done.

At night and on the weekends, when we have time, we have the most incredible experiences exploring the world together, visiting castles in Portugal, wandering the Gothic Quarter in Barcelona, and getting lost in the public transportation system somewhere in Europe (super grateful to the restaurant owner who called us a taxi).

There is no way if you told me five years ago I would be here right now, I would believe you. But as I sit in a cafe in Spain and reflect, I realize I don’t know exactly where my life is headed, but I do know how I got where I am right now. And that is by personally and professionally following my heart.

With love,
Lauren

P.S. Special shoutout to my boyfriend – thank you for believing in me, pushing me, loving me, and inspiring me. And thank you for speaking three languages. We certainly would get far more lost otherwise!

Dear Mom,

Words can’t describe how grateful I am to have you as my mom. Growing up you gave me a great childhood. You made sure I had everything I needed to succeed. You have always been so involved in my life, encouraging me in my hobbies and passions, believing in the beauty of my dreams and advocating for me in my challenges. You are my biggest fan, my advocate, and my first love. Throughout the years you have shown me what fierce, true, and sacrificial love looks like. You have made countless sacrifices for the well-being of our family. You are truly selfless and have the biggest heart of gold. I hope that someday I will become an exceptional mother—just like you.

When I was in 5th grade you found an art class 20 minutes away from where we lived and you encouraged me to join. It didn’t matter to you that you had to drive 20 minutes there, wait till the class was over and then pick me up and drive 20 minutes home. When I was having trouble in math you sat with me and explained it to me to the best of your ability. You collaborated with my teachers so that I could succeed. And when one of my teachers wouldn’t give me the accommodations I needed you advocated for me. When I was upset because teachers were calling me “the evil one” you went to talk to them for me. You are always taking care of everyone—with kindness, gentleness, positivity, and compassion.

Now that I am older we have the deepest conversations. I learn so much from you. Your presence and involvement in my life is one of the greatest gifts. Even though I live 7 hours away from you, you make sure that I always know that you are only a call, text, FaceTime away. Knowing that you are there and being secure in your unconditional love have made me into the person I am today. It’s because of you that I believe in love at first sight. Even though I probably don’t say it as much as you need to hear it I want you to know that I love you to the moon and back, and I am so grateful that I get to be your daughter.

Love,
Hannah G.

As a kid, I was adventurous, riding rollercoasters at age five, going on a plane by myself at seven, and willing to travel just about anywhere up through my college years. I am not sure if it was the pandemic or the tragedies we see daily in the news, or maybe just me getting older, but somehow, along my journey, my fearless spirit began to fade.

In April, my boyfriend (of just a few months at the time) proposed a trip of a lifetime, three months of traveling all over Europe while working remotely. In theory, it sounded amazing. I went to Europe in my teens and early 20s and loved it. But three months is a long time away from my family and dog, and Europe feels so distant from home. I was scared to go.

Nonetheless, knowing how much my boyfriend wanted to travel and how wonderful an opportunity and privilege this trip truly is, I agreed to go with him. However, during the three weeks leading up to the trip, I had two separate back spasms/herniated discs, and, for the first time in my life, I fainted and hit my head pretty hard. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not. But I definitely felt very anxious.

Once we made it to our apartment in Barcelona, Spain, I felt slightly more at ease. So far, we’ve walked for miles and miles along the beach, not knowing where we were going or what we wanted to do. We’ve tried delicious food that was possibly worth the ensuing stomachache. And I have attempted to speak and understand a language I do not know. All the while, my boyfriend and I are beginning to learn more about each other’s quirks as we fully live together for the first time.

As I sit here writing in a cafe in Barcelona, eating new food, working on The Unsealed, and listening to various languages in a city I don’t know very well at all, I am now hopeful that getting a little lost in this world will help me find a part of myself that I thought was long gone.

This is a ramp; at first, I took a picture to post on my social media platform to credit Buffalo Wild Wings for having this ‘assistant’ for people like myself who need an alternative to reach their destination. Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate not having to worry I might have ‘egg on my face’ before I enter the establishment or my cheeks being red, not because I had spicy wings, but because I fell.

Having two letters attached to my name is hard. These letters are CP. If I wanted to take the ‘steps’ — in my case, the longer route, I would say cerebral palsy, but my parents call me Jake instead of Jacob for a reason, right? Yes, my jokes are making this longer.

As I thought about posting this picture to social media, I pondered, “How could I post this phenomenal demonstration of universal design and make it universally understood?”

As I muddled for an answer, my subconscious blatantly interjected, “Your fudging kidding me, Jake? You know better; this is about your valid desire and craving for others to comprehend your sometimes paralyzing negative thoughts when ‘boxed’ or thinking you are ‘boxed’ because of two letters, CP.

So…after all of that stewing over, I realized the ramp served as a reminder, “I do not only need a ramp for physical assistance; I also need it for mental assistance! Fortunately, I do, and I hope you all do too! Keep unsealing your stories; this UNSEALED family has you!!