She had left so much here
the carloads taken to Goodwill
numbered, now, beyond ten
he’d kept a count, tho, if pressed
he’d not admit to it

too much there to allow in
it was only to go out

elsewhere.

Which thoughtlined to such a different place
one of today the multi-colored thoughts and pictures
in an everyday, always anyway, person’s mind

all jumbled together
with feeding the dog
the oatmeal for breakfast
the judgement living in the bathroom mirror
and changing the bedsheets just ‘cause it is Wednesday.

She had left so much behind.

He had so much left to do.

What are we doing as poets? To whom are we writing? It cannot be only for ones-self, not only for some sort of self-edification.

I write for the everyday person, for those pictures in our minds we all carry. So many great poets have gone before, I’ve nearly let that intimidate me in the past, causing an unappreciated inertia.

However there is a lot to say, today, in today’s world, in our global experience… as well as being Poets of Witness. or Poets of Agitation. Not that those roles aren’t important, they are indeed. Indeed, as well, there is a lot to say that makes a real contribution to the reader. A lot to write about, to reach into everyday experiences and promote intriguing thought in our readers of our particular niche within Poetry.

Gotta Love Creative Writing!

To The Unsealed Community,

When I was ten years old, I was in love.

I grew up in the 1990s, and like most other girls in my generation, I thought Jonathan Taylor Thomas, aka JTT, was my future husband. He played Randy on Tim Allen’s Home Improvement. I had posters of him in my room, and I listened to love songs imagining the two of us on long walks in the park.

Ahead of my eleventh birthday, my father asked what I wanted as a gift.

I told my Dad, “I would like to meet JTT.”

My Dad chuckled and said, “What’s your second choice?”

I said, “Dad, there is no second choice. That is what I want.”

He told me he didn’t have that kind of power. So, I said fine and told him I would figure it out myself.

Later that week, I went on the internet and started searching. I knew there had to be a way to meet my crush. It wasn’t long before I stumbled across a charity event for Audrey Hepburn’s charity for children. The event hosted movie premiers, fashion shows, and after-parties with child stars in New York City, forty minutes away from my home. The list of child actors had to be one hundred deep: Mara Wilson, Michelle Trachtenberg, Rider Strong, Devon Sawa, and, sure enough, Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

Tickets for events were cheap – $10 -$40 per event, per person. So, for my birthday, my mother and I got a hotel room in the city, and I attended JTT’s premiere of the movie Wild America. I manipulated my way to the front of the crowd and befriended JTT’s security, who arrived at the theater a half hour before JTT did. As luck would have it, like every other man in the world, the security guard had a crush on my mother. I ended up in the elevator with JTT and got a picture and a kiss on the cheek. And then, he sat right behind me in the theater. I swear there were moments when he leaned forward, and I could feel him breathing on my neck. The next day at the fashion show, the security guard snuck us backstage. I met nearly every star there, and my 11-year-old self was in heaven.

One of the qualities I love most about myself is I go after what I want. I don’t take no for an answer. I believe I was born with this relentless and determined spirit.

Whether it was meeting JTT at eleven years old, becoming a sportscaster in my 20s, or starting a business in my 30’s, I have never taken “No” for an answer. No has always just meant, “Find another way.”

Through the years, the stakes have increased, and the challenges are sometimes even more unrealistic. But without looking back, I have continued after whatever I have wanted in life.

Even if some days are hard, I live life with no regrets, no what ifs or would have, could have, should haves.

And while I may not have married JTT, like I once planned. Going after him, along with all the other things I love in life, has made me love myself and all that I am even more.

I was hanging out with a good friend of mine the other day, and she asked me something that got me thinking. She said to me: “I’ve noticed the last couple times we hung out that you talk about the future and having kids, is that something you think about a lot?” I sat there for a minute reflecting, and then I responded; I explained to her that I do think about it in the aspect of knowing the person I want to be when I am a mother, as well as the steps I need to take in the meantime before family planning starts. She took in my response and then took the question a bit further by asking if I think I am doing everything I do now for my future children, or if I am doing all of this for myself. Quickly sifting through the thoughts as they rushed in, I realized it may seem like I am living my life for a future that could not even happen (I mean, life doesn’t always go as planned). After a short pause and a breath, I stated that I honestly feel like I am doing this for all of us. I let her know that I am working on being the parent that I wanted as a child, and there are things I know I want to do for my child(ren) that requires my current dedication to my wellbeing, both physically and mentally. I also mentioned that I would be upset if the time came to start a family and I looked back at the past couple years and didn’t see any progress towards my goals. In that regard, I like to keep that on my mind as it keeps me focused on my intentions and values.

For the past several years, I have been working on my mental health and regulating my emotions. For years I suffered with anxiety; I constantly worried about the worst-case scenarios in every part of my life, I’d often have angry outbursts that were followed by uncontrollable sobbing, and I felt like I had no control over any of my thoughts or feelings. All of this left me with a feeling of hatred toward my brain, and therefore my entire self. I would find myself “people-pleasing,” because I never wanted to let anyone down or feel like a bad friend. Behind the constant saying “yes” when I meant really meant “no,” and over-extending myself to the point of burnout, deep down I did all of these things because I just felt horrible about myself and I didn’t want anyone to see me the way I saw myself. Fortunately, with the help of my therapist and your father (he’s truly the best, I know you’ll love him so much), I have since come to realize that I am not the awful person that my anxiety tricked me into thinking I was, and I am finally learning to love every part of me, including the parts of me that I once despised.

As I have been on this journey, I have been learning about psychology and how certain events or situations can impact a young child’s brain. I have been learning about how humans coregulate with other people around them, and how important that is when a young child is growing up. I know that if I were to have had you a few years ago, in the midst of my worst anxiety attacks and self-loathing patterns, that would not have been the healthiest environment for you to be in during your early days. As I continue to work on my patience and learning about my mind, oftentimes I about you and your future. I think about you having a calm, content mother who happily lulls you to sleep and is there to comfort you in times when you feel distressed. I think about you witnessing your parents emulating the true meaning of love, and also feeling that same incredible love from us. I think about how I want you to be curious and ask questions and be confident in who you are, even in times when peers or others around you may try to influence you. I think about how there are times where you may not like me so much or I may fail you in some ways, but that I hope as an adult you will be able to understand that I am doing my best and still learning as a human being. So yes, I do think about you a lot, and I do what I do every day for you. There is a well-known quote that reads: “You can’t pour from an empty cup,” so I make an effort every day to make sure I fill my own cup first, so in the future, I can fill yours.

To my future child(ren), I love you already.

To The Unsealed Community,

Typically, I am not someone who visibly shows the world how I feel. Whether it was a big loss in sports as a teenager or in fourth grade when a boy pretended to throw up when he found out I liked him, I have often, without even trying, kept a poker face.

But how I look doesn’t always reflect how I feel.

During my first year of college, I was having the time of my life: a new school, a new romance, a new city, and lots of new friends.

I looked like a happy, typical college student exploring an exciting new world. And in many ways, I was just that. However, amid this incredible adventure and privilege, there were moments I was overwhelmed and nearly debilitated by fear.

When the sun went down, I was terrified to walk on campus alone. It was only a year and a half since I had been drugged and sexually assaulted by two strangers. I felt so vulnerable that someone could hurt me again at any moment. Whether walking back from dinner, a party, or my boyfriend’s dorm, whenever I was by myself at night, my heart would race, and I would feel this aching pit in my stomach.

Sometimes, when I made it safely, I would go to a bathroom stall or somewhere private and let out a few tears, just as a sigh of relief. Walking at night on what was a beautiful and, statistically speaking, safe campus was a horrible, unsettling feeling – one that I had no idea if it would ever go away.

There are many ways I could have responded. I could have gone home – quit school, and simply remained in the confines of my parents’ home. I could have stopped going out and stayed in my room after dark. I could have withdrawn entirely and hidden from all my fears.

But I didn’t. Instead, my 17-year-old self, consciously or subconsciously, chose to be brave.

I dared to ask for what I needed and took advantage of those offering to help. I told my boyfriend I was scared and asked him to walk me home from parties or back to my dorm room. If he wasn’t available, there were five other 6’5 football players who told me to call or text whenever I needed someone to walk me home.

I had the courage to keep showing up, to keep walking, and to ask for what I needed, knowing deep down I didn’t want this fear to hold me back. No matter how often my heart raced or I got that pain in my stomach, I kept going out. I kept meeting friends, and  attending parties and clubs. Daily, I left my comfort zone, which allowed me to fully enjoy the college experience.

While I still don’t love walking alone at night, my anxiety doesn’t reach the level it once did. And because I didn’t let my fear stop me then, I certainly won’t let my fear stop me now.

Dear Mom and Dad,

When I was a child, we went on trips to Disney World, Aruba, California, and Vermont. We went to zoos and parks and all sorts of places. I played soccer worldwide, as we traveled as far as Italy to compete. While each of those memories is special, one of my favorite memories growing up is a bit simpler.

Every day from first grade until my senior year, one of you drove me to school – sometimes a half hour away. I played soccer for teams all over the state, and you drove me to practice and games several times a week. In addition, you also took me to girl scouts, Hebrew school, tennis lessons, dance, acting classes, and who knows what else. With all these activities, it was often just one of you in the car and me. If it were dad and me, we’d often talk about soccer or school. Dad, you’d pump me up and build my confidence. It was in those car rides you told me I could do anything I wanted in life.

Mom, if I were in the car with you, we’d blast music like NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys and talk about life. On one of those car rides, while cruising down the New York State Thruway, we decided the song “This is My Promise to You” by NSYNC would be OUR song.

Those car rides are some of my most cherished memories from my childhood. It was moments I had your full attention – while me and the road, of course. I could talk to you about anything, and we weren’t distracted by other people or the noise of the rest of the world. It was just us. The attention made me feel loved and important. In those car rides, I found a safe space to share my fears and doubts and tell you about whatever was on my mind. Dad told me stories that included life lessons, while mom always was positive and reassuring.

It was in those car rides I learned to believe in myself.

While sometimes, we as human beings try to create great memories – planning big trips or throwing huge parties – for me, the best memories have always been the ones we didn’t even realize we were creating.

I Love you both.

P.S. I owe you some gas money

She just showed up with it one day

the patient I cannot name here.

She had been one of those few patients

that I’d allowed myself to get too close to

guess that we had come to know each other

over the several years it took

to get two, t-w-o, double lung transplants

such a vivacious twenty-something

progeny of excellently smart parents

that somehow had given her the cystic fibrosis DNA

the stupid rare gene that kills some folk faster than others.

We’d likely done eight or nine bronchoscopies

The usual protocols, monitoring for what we were monitoring for.

I always tailored the music in the suite to the patient

and her broncs had become a contest of a sort.

She’d try to ask for something i didn’t have over there

in the collection only on CD’s in the player,

this was pre-Pandora, or Apple music, or anything like that.

She’d giggle when I couldn’t produce it

settle for something like what she’d asked for.

Wheeling her up to the suite from Out Patient Surgery

she’d taken a CD case out from under the hospital gown

“take this you old Respiratory Therapist Hippie Man”

She’d kidded again, she was like that.

“You gotta play this when I come”

it had some greats on it, James Brown, Nine Inch Nails

just to name a few -her fav’s.

The affinity we enjoyed had progressed from a sterile smelling procedure lab

trust abounding to take appropriate care

She would look up at me

as I handed the prepared sleepy-time meds

calling them the “I don’t care, and I don’t remember meds”

and say those words with me in unison

as if to a four-four time signature along with the tune that was on.

She’d enjoyed eight more years of prolonged life

from her two transplants.

her deadly Cystic Fibrosis was aggressive,

and the second set of lungs

were to play in the same minor key as the first.
at her age in her late twenties.

I was in the room when she told her parents

no more surgeries. Couldn’t do it again

a combo of couldn’t and wouldn’t.

I just happened to be there having come by to check on her

heard she had be re-admitted and was very sick

lungs full of mucousy shit that had her at death’s door again

that is the way of pulmonary Cystic Fibrosis

(It is relentless even with the best care)

when her parents came in and she chose to surprise all of us

with her announcement.

Such moments are beyond tender

beyond intimacy, and well into anguish

I shook her Dad’s hand, clear that it was time to leave the hospital room

her Mom followed me out into the hall

“Did you know she had made this decision?”

shaking my head “NO”,

i tried to be professional while wiping my left eye’s tear

Mom said “we have been dreading the need for this conversation,”

and, “we knew it was coming.”

I did my best to console her

out there in the hall, and she just asked me

to leave her time to be alone with her thoughts,
and then Dad appeared from the room

leaving the door to it open

her Mom leaned against the hall wall, crying

looking at Dad, I touched her shoulder, and walked away.

c Ray Whitaker, 09/22

As most young children, I had many different dreams for my future. For a while I was completely set on being a princess. I mean, who doesn’t want that true love that’s portrayed in all of the Disney movies? Over time I ditched the glitz and glamour dream for one a bit more adventurous: I wanted to be a spy! As expected, I didn’t end up pursuing that dream, but I definitely was an observant child. As I grew older, I toyed with the idea of pursuing a career as a teacher. I thought about what subject I’d teach, and for a while I said English and creative writing were my favorite, but that was until I found myself loving my psychology class. The idea of understanding how the brain worked and how people operate was so interesting to me, and over time it has become so much more for me.

Truth be told, I never saw myself pursuing a career in psychology, and honestly, I still don’t! I could have gone to a university and dove into the field, but I knew that meant more school and taking on thousands of dollars in debt. Instead of doing what everyone else was doing, I did what I felt was right for me, and that was working full time and moving out of my parents’ place. At 19, even though most of my friends were either staying with their parents or living in a dorm, I still felt that I was getting out of there too late. Since the age of seven, I had been living with functioning alcoholics who didn’t seem to enjoy each other’s company. I witnessed angry arguments, suffered emotional and verbal abuse, and knew too much about adult issues as a child. I knew that being in that space with my parents was not healthy for me, and I had to get out as soon as possible. As I sit here at 27, after going through years of being on different anxiety medications and seeing different therapists, I feel so blessed to live in a time where mental health is being discussed, and I want to be part of that discussion.

In my parents’ generation, and really all of the older generations, mental health was not something that was well known or talked about. People didn’t discuss how childhood trauma affects you later on in life, or how there is usually a psychological reason for addiction, so they all did their best with the information they knew. Nowadays, there is more access to different types, of therapy, as well as helpful resources that are free online. When you know more about yourself and how your brain developed, it makes it easier to understand yourself. For me, growing up in a chaotic environment had an effect on my nervous system, and this was something I discovered once I was living out on my own with my boyfriend. I was so ready to escape from the constant screaming and arguing and just be with the person who made me the happiest. Going from chaos, to a quiet, loving environment was everything I needed, but it didn’t feel that way at first.

Once we were settled into our new apartment, I had a sense of relief and I felt like I was finally in control of my life. Unfortunately, early on it was apparent that I was obsessed with control and I still felt this irritability and anger deep down inside me. I’d find myself having many “off” days and days where I would have complete breakdowns, and it honestly only made me angrier because I couldn’t understand why this was happening. I felt like my brain was on fire and I was constantly racing some imaginary clock that I could never catch up to, and I was always so hard on myself. It wasn’t until I saw a therapist who actually listened to me that I actually felt like I understood myself. She explained how being in an unpredictable environment as a child can lead to the need to control, and helped me find healthy ways to cope with my anxiety. I finally started feeling like there was hope for me and I would be able to live happily without medications, and I am lucky to say that I am doing that today.

Seven years ago, I embarked on a healing journey that I am still on today. I tried different anxiety medications over long periods of time, and even took breaks when I probably shouldn’t have. I saw therapists that I didn’t find helpful, and still hung around toxic people. I still had my breakdowns, but breakthroughs as well, and I over time I learned to acknowledge those. Over the years, I had questioned many things about myself and my life, but there was one thing I knew, and that was that I wanted to raise a family in the future. When I was thinking about my future, I knew that I wanted to be a calm mother who didn’t project her own anxieties onto her kids. I knew that I wanted their father to be someone who I enjoyed seeing every day, and we’d have a love that our children would admire and strive for. I knew that if I wanted these things in my life, that I had to be dedicated to my healing and mental health.

I’d like to say that I was going to therapy for me, but it initially was for my boyfriend. I knew I had a great person by my side, and he truly deserved me at my best self. He didn’t have to deal with my angry outbursts or my coldness, and I didn’t want to keep giving that to him. He saw who I was beneath all of the anxiety and fear from the beginning, and to this day, he still helps me in every way he can. At my lowest, he helped me set up my appointments and would accompany me to them, and today he appreciates and acknowledges my growth. I look forward to the future to when we have a family of our own, knowing we will be able to take the knowledge we have and raise our children in a healthy, loving environment. Of course, life still has challenges, and there is always going to be growing to do; now that I have developed better coping skills, I am able to look to the future with visions of hope and positivity, rather than fear and anxiety. Learning from my therapist taught me so much about myself, and I truly believe everyone can benefit from therapy. Unfortunately, not everyone has access to therapy, which is why it is important to spread awareness by spreading our stories and sharing resources.

My dream may seem like a simple dream: have a husband and some children- but it is so much deeper than that. Of course, that is my dream for myself and my future family, but overall, my dream is for everyone to be their best selves. Some people may feel like they don’t deserve it, or maybe it feels like healing will be impossible, but this is the best time to do it. People may feel there is still a stigma around going to therapy, but there is nothing wrong with wanting better for yourself. Mental health is finally being talked about more regularly in media and on larger platforms, and the more awareness we spread, the more of us can heal. I truly believe that if everyone learned how to love themselves and stop judging themselves so harshly, the world would be a better place. I honestly also still believe that we all deserve that love that princesses get in the Disney movies! This is why I joined this community, and this is why I continue to raise my voice about mental health and spreading love- I believe that we can all be a dream.

@writerjordanohalloran @oneturbobenz @algonzalez @jordanwalker @jordynjacobson @ciarapray @emdissocool @lulli101 @elizalila123 @dburtz @janetbanks @janettesegura @japarker1962
–
To The Unsealed Community ,

I usually say my childhood dream was to be a sportscaster, and while that’s true, it was only part of the dream. The vision, the goal, has always been much bigger.

Since I was a little- four or five years old, I would tell my parents, “One day, I am going to change the world.”

It’s cheesy and cliche, I know. But it’s also true. I had so much ambition. At eight years old, I would stay up all night worrying and thinking about my career.

When I would tell my mom, she would respond, “What career? You’re eight!”

She totally didn’t get it, and both my parents did what they could to try and convince me to take some pressure off myself, which I never did.

I have no idea where this desire to succeed on a monumental scale came from, but it’s always been there for as long as I can remember. The drive. The hunger. The desire. And, unfortunately, the constant worrying about how or if I could make this happen.

While I have checked off a few boxes regarding my goals, including attending an ivy league college and becoming a sportscaster, there is still so much more I want to do. And I certainly thought by my 30’s, I’d have this whole changing-the-world career path all figured out. While I have made progress, I am still trying to piece it all together.

In pursuit of my goal, I started The Unsealed, a platform for people to share their truth in the form of open letters. Through these letters, I hope to amplify voices and inspire people around the globe but I have made so many mistakes. Every day, I am still learning about entrepreneurship, marketing, and online communities.

Every second I am scared. I’m afraid I won’t figure this out. I am scared I will make a wrong decision, making what feels like this Jinga tower I am building come crashing down. I know that applying for a job with a designated set of tasks, “normal” hours, and a consistent paycheck would be much easier. But that’s not my dream.

So,I keep pushing and do my best to lean away from my fears and into my confidence. And with each challenge that arises (and there are many), I draw motivation from several different places.

Many of you have shared with me that The Unsealed has changed your life. It’s made some of you feel seen. It’s made some of you feel heard. It’s influenced at least one of you not to take your own life. On the days I am tired, and in the moments I am scared, I think of all of you.

Then, there are my parents. They have poured their time, their heart, their soul, and their money into my dream and my happiness without ever asking me for so much as a penny in return. They read all of our stories. They come to every single zoom. They share all of my posts. My mom has spent hours helping me email schools and writing programs. I so desperately want my parents to see my company take over the world because I know their wishes are for mine to come true. On the days I am tired, and in the moments I am scared, I think of my parents.

Lastly, I have worked so hard. I have sacrificed relationships, time with my friends, the opportunity to make more money faster, and who knows what else to pursue this crazy dream. I want this. I work every day – seven days a week, often typing away until I fall asleep fully dressed with my computer by my side. I love what I do. I love my mission. I love what we have already accomplished and what I hope my company will one day achieve. I owe it to myself to keep going – to not give up on the days I am tired, and in the moments I am scared.

Dreams don’t come true quickly or easily for most people. And that’s why for most people, their dreams will always be just a dream. But every day, I am glad that I haven’t given up on you, my parents, or myself because even if I don’t change the whole damn world, my work, my heart, my passion, and my resilience is already changing many lives, including mine.

Thanks for being here on this scary but beautiful journey. This is just the beginning.

With love, hope, and faith,

Dear me, thank you.

I remember when you were starting school in third grade; transitioning from being home-schooled to public school, the same year that you bawled your eyes out because the doctor said needed eyeglasses. I mean, once you realized you were allowed to pick out your own frames, your tears cleared right up and those round, dark pink frames quickly became yours! Being excited about the new element added to your style, Dad didn’t have a hard time convincing you to get a super short haircut…but don’t worry, you never, ever did that again! However, I do admire the confidence that you had going into that school- knowing you didn’t have any familiar faces in class, but still having no problem being your authentic, weird self. I’m proud to say we do have that confidence today, but that unfortunately we did lose it a bit in-between.

Getting through middle school wasn’t bad. You did well in school and you got along with your classmates, but what you lived for was hanging out with your best friends back at the apartments that you grew up in your whole life. Having friends in the apartment complex made it easy to say that home was such a fun place to be, even though deep down you knew that inside that two-bedroom apartment, any happiness was gone after 6pm. You were lucky in a way, it’s not like your parents were leaving you with random sitters while they went out to the bars like your neighbor friends dealt with, instead your parents would just drink at home, and you had to be witness. Your parents seemed to care more than the other parents because they were always helicoptering around and trying to keep you safe, but that started to bother you more and more as you grew older.

When it was time for high school you started to feel suffocated. When you observed the younger neighbor friends having more freedom than you, it felt unfair! They could take their bikes to the store down the street before you could, and they’d all talk about their Facebook accounts while your parents were telling you that you couldn’t have one for another few years. The anger inside only grew as you finally got more freedom, because that only came with constant texts and calls asking for pictures to prove where you were. You weren’t out doing drugs or partying, you had good grades, but you were treated as if you were not trust-worthy or responsible. It didn’t help that your parents’ anxiety of the world worsened, as well as their anger towards each other. At home, you unfortunately had to hear all of it, and it had more of an effect on you than you knew.

As you overheard the loud, explicit sluts being spat back and forth, your body was coregulating with their anger and angst. As you overheard horrific truths of family pasts, your brain processed these things in an unhealthy, self-limiting way. As you started to join in on arguments trying to mediate or defend, you fed into your already developed control issues. There is a reason that psychologists tell parents not to involve their children in adult issues. This was in no way your fault, but when you finally were able to escape, you quickly learned that it was your responsibility. Although it feels easy to blame your parents for your anxiety and depression, it feels so much better once you realized that they were doing the best they could with what they knew, and it feels even better when you realized that you were the one in control of your life.

You escaped your parents’ home at age 19 and moved into an apartment with your high school sweetheart. Even though you had never had a boyfriend throughout high school, when you saw him come into your class junior year and you got that feeling that you had to talk to him…you were right to go with your gut. This man has been such a blessing throughout your life, even though at times you didn’t treat him that way. There were times where your anxiety got the best of you, your anger issues were not managed well, and you felt completely out of control. There were times where you found yourself in panic attacks, crying so hard to the point of headaches, but you made it through, and he was there the whole time. He was so patient with you, and although there were rough times during the relationship, he never left your side. Even though you thought you were such a burden and terrible person to be around, he never saw you like that-he saw you for you.

You had a hard time accepting this love for many reasons, but the main one being that you did not love yourself. Your brain absorbed Dad’s constant comments like “You dumba**” or “Stupid b**ch,” even though those were never true. You took on blame and guilt for things that didn’t even involve you, and it aided in the self-loathing patterns. I won’t sit here and say that at age 27 you’re completely healed of all traumas and you float through life with no problems; you still have triggers and definitely some control issues, but you are healing every day. After years of trying different medications and therapists, you’re feeling regulated without prescription drugs, you have a therapist you love, and you are finally feeling like that confident, curly-headed eight-year-old girl with glasses strolling into her first year of public school. Looking at you, I see that you always confidently knew yourself, and you trusted your gut. You tried to stay out of the way of chaos and remain in your own peaceful world, and that is something we still practice today. As I continue to heal my nervous system and work on self-love, I have realized that I truly can trust my gut feelings; and for that, I thank you.

Dear Professor Abzug,

When I walked into your Women and Leadership class at Columbia University in the fall of 2006, I expected to learn about women’s history, engage in interesting conversations, and write about famous leaders. But as it turns out, you and your class left me with so much more than I could have ever anticipated.

Before your class, my world was very small. I was a 20-year-old college student, consumed with school, my family, a new boyfriend, and the latest party. I didn’t spend much time thinking about the world beyond my bubble. It’s not that I didn’t care about the issues that plagued our society, but I didn’t see an avenue for me to make a significant difference.

While I don’t remember the books we read, the topics we discussed, or even the themes of any of the papers I wrote, I do remember how you highlighted the inequality in society. You prepared us for the discrimination we’d likely face in our respective careers. However, you never told us what to think or how to respond. Instead, you asked us questions that challenged me to see beyond my little bubble. You showed us women like your mother, former congresswoman Bella Abzug, who broke glass ceilings, stood up for themselves, and single-handedly paved the way for others. As a result, you created this desire within me to discover my power. Every time class finished, it felt as though you lit a match in my belly, as I felt this fire – an energy and excitement that came with believing I could tackle inequality and win one battle at a time. It was you who made me think my voice matters in larger conversations.

It’s been 16 years since your class, and that fire has transformed into a guiding light. It has influenced my choices and my path in life. While pursuing my childhood dream to become a sportscaster, I faced many of the struggles you told us we might experience in our careers. But instead of backing down, becoming a victim, or accepting our culture for what it is, I spoke up and forced change.

Ultimately, I followed my heart and started a company called The Unsealed, which aims to empower voices and inspire people. My goal is to challenge our readers to realize their influence as we showcase diverse perspectives. I believe my purpose in life is to try and be the match that lights the fire in other people’s bellies.

Professor Abzug, I signed up for your class to learn more about women leaders, but I had no idea you’d teach me to become one. It was in your class that I developed an unshakeable confidence, a relentless spirit, and a fearless attitude.

The change I make for others all started with the change you influenced within me.

Thank you!

Dear Anxiety,

You have been in my life for a very long time. I first met you when I was five or six years old. Even at that age, I thought I needed to be the best athlete, dancer, and student to stand out in the world and reach my larger-than-life dreams. My parents never pushed me, so I am unsure why you entered my life or why I felt so much pressure. But because of you, I had sleepless nights and daily body aches. You had way too much power for a very long time.

Through the years, we have had our ups and downs. Sometimes, you consume me, and other times I have been able to keep you in check. The worst of you appeared in my late teens when a sexual assault led to paralyzing fear and endless stomachaches. I lost 30 pounds all because of you. Terrified about my health, I started to fight back against you. That’s when it hit me. I cause you.

I discovered that you, Anxiety, are the result of my thought process, habits, and attitude. Once I realized I was in control, I started to pay attention to the activities and behaviors that made you less present. Exercise, writing, and conversations with family and friends all helped to stop you from overwhelming my life. The more I engaged in behaviors that helped me, the less you hurt me.

In my 30s now, I recognize that you will probably never entirely disappear from my life. You are probably a part of life. But whether it’s stress from building my company or disappointment from a relationship, I now know how to take power from you. And that’s important because the less power you possess, the more happiness I can feel.

Anxiety, you’re tough, but I am way tougher.

Dear Unsealers,

I remember the exact day I started to dream about my future. It was 1995, a year after the New York Rangers won the Stanley Cup. My dad took me to Game 4 of the second round of the postseason. The Rangers were playing the Philadelphia Flyers. New York was down 3-0 in the series, and we went to the game hoping we’d witness the beginning of New York’s comeback. While that didn’t happen, I still had an incredible night. Before the game, my father and I started walking toward our seats in the nosebleeds section when a woman approached us. She was a VP at ABC sports and told us she had an extra ticket in the first row. Then, she asked if I wanted it. Of course, I accepted. Luckily we found another seat nearby for my dad. As I asked this woman about her career, a light bulb went off. I could one day get paid to go to sporting events. My ten-year-old self was sold. That was the moment I decided I wanted to be a sportscaster. From that moment on, I was determined to make my dream happen.

In college, I interned at CBS and ABC in their sports departments. During my junior year, I began working in the NBA’’s broadcasting department before accepting a job as a full-time writer. A year after graduating college, I got my first on-air job, working for MSG Varsity, a high school sports network in New York. Then, I worked as a reporter and anchor for local news stations in Buffalo, NY, and Cleveland, Ohio. From a World Series to the NBA Championship, I had the opportunity to cover some pretty incredible moments as I truly lived my childhood dream.

However, after ten years, I realized I had developed new interests. As a sportscaster, I conducted a lot of interviews and fell in love with the art of storytelling. Meeting people from all walks of life made me more interested in social issues. I wanted to be an advocate and journalist, and after flying all over the country for interviews and meetings, I realized the job I wanted didn’t exist. So, I created it. I started my own company called The Unsealed, a platform that helps us amplify the stories and voices of people with various perspectives. I am genuinely thankful that I achieved my childhood dream because it was my dream that helped me discover my purpose.

With love and hope,

Dear Unsealers

Meet Roger! Roger lost his mother when he was 23 years old. Ever since, he has struggled with grief, anxiety and depression. He misses his mother who was a source of love and comfort in his life. One of his favorite memories of his mom is seeing her joy when she watched him perform in his first band concert in high school.

While Roger has found healing in writing, giving back to others and expressing himself through photography, there are still days that he struggles.

Write to Roger about your experience with loss, your favorite memories with your loved one and what has helped bring peace to your life and your grief. You can respond to this thread or post your own letter in this group or the group Remembering those we lost and tag Roger @oneturbobenz

Share your truth and change the world.

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All the best,

Dear Sean,

Our friendship began the night we met. It was August 12, 2018 in downtown Cleveland. My friends and I ended up at a table at FWD nightclub with you and your friends. Thanks to your charm, and that handsome face, we immediately clicked.

In a short time, I realized there was so much more to you than your good looks and your sweet personality.

Over the next year, I got to know you pretty well. I opened up to you about my past. You were supportive and understanding. I shared with you the challenges I faced at the time, and you gave me strength, encouragement, and confidence. You also took me for sushi, became my pen pal (exchanging a billion texts a day), and helped me set the foundation for my business. Sometimes, I’d even get you to stop by my apartment just to give me a hug.

As our friendship evolved, you’d often share your wisdom and perspective with me.

Vividly, I remember you once telling me a lesson you learned while serving in the military. You told me you were pushed so much physically in the military that you realized that the moment you feel like giving up – the moment you feel like you have nothing left in the tank – you always have a bit more fight left. You can always go more.

I left Cleveland in June of 2019. You came over and said goodbye to me. You told me we’d see each other again in Miami or when I returned to Cleveland. Little did I know that would be the last time I’d ever see you.

About two months later, you texted me, “I have a miracle.”

You proceeded to tell me, in text, about how a week earlier you had a seizure while home with your daughters. Your daughters called for help and got you to the hospital, where they found a tumor in your brain. You sent me videos and an actual picture of the tumor inside your brain. It was too much for me to absorb over text, and I asked you to call me, which you did.

At that point, you still didn’t know if it was cancer, but you told me, “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I will be OK.”

When you officially told me it was cancer, I don’t think my mind could fully process the reality of the situation. In fact, I still don’t think I have fully processed it. As time passed, I checked in on you here and there, and we chatted about life and other things.

When I first launched The Unsealed, you read nearly every letter, and signed up as one of my very first members.

After I thanked you for signing up, you said, “Your stories are helping people, Lauren. Your strength/story is touching.”

You made me believe that this lofty dream I was pursuing was not only possible but worthwhile.

While we didn’t talk much about your cancer diagnosis, and you certainly never told me your prognosis, you did tell me your circumstance taught you that no matter what, you always have to look at life from a positive perspective. When I told you I felt like I hit a wall with my business, you told me to be thankful I am here to hit that wall, reminding me that each day is both a blessing and an opportunity.

I used to tease you that you were a feminist, but you truly were, believing that women, including me, could be or do anything they so choose. I remember you even spent time on a weekend, helping teach young girls how to code.

Your daughters were your world, and you never wanted to miss a volleyball game or dinner time. If I called you while you were watching a movie with one of your daughters, you wouldn’t answer. Your time with your children was precious to you – and that was true from the moment I met you.

During your battle with cancer, you began to ride your bike – a lot. You decided to join the Great Cycle Challenge, aiming to ride your bike 200 miles in a month to raise money, not for yourself but for children battling cancer. You were among the top fundraisers in the country.

In the most challenging moment in your life, you devoted your time and energy to helping others that were suffering.

Sean, that is who you were. That is who all your friends and family know, love, and cherish.

A little less than a year ago, I asked you how you were, and you told me you were OK and that you were going to try some experimental treatments. Without going into detail, I knew what that meant. I didn’t hear from you much after that, and I feel sad that I didn’t reach out as I should have. I think, subconsciously, a part of me didn’t want to face the reality of losing yet another young person close to me. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as I should have been these last few months. I promise, it wasn’t because I didn’t care.

A few weeks ago, I had a funny story I wanted to tell you – a mystery that I finally solved. When I texted you on your phone and Instagram and didn’t get a response, I knew it wasn’t good. Ultimately, your best friend and your mom filled me in. I am thankful I texted when I did, as I was able to send you cards and tell you how much you meant to me. Your mom even said that when you saw the card was from me, you had a huge smile across your face.

I am absolutely heartbroken right now. You were one of the good guys and didn’t deserve a battle with brain cancer. With that said, I want you to know that the man beyond the charm and the handsome face has left an indelible mark on my heart.

Because of you, I will keep fighting when I feel there is nothing left in the tank. I will keep pushing to build The Unsealed, motivated by the fact that I know it meant something to you and can and will help many other people. And I will always wake up every day with gratitude and a positive attitude.

While I am mourning the loss of your life, I will continue to celebrate you through how I live mine.

I miss you already. Thank you for genuinely caring about me. You will forever inspire me.

With love and lots of hugs,
Lauren

P.S. I heart you.

support brain cancer research disease by donating to:
https://virtualtrials.org/strother.cfm or http://www.childrenscancer.org/seanstrother

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