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.

Hear me out. What does your inner child have to do with leaving your adult 9-5? Well for me, I don’t resonate with my job and never have resonated with working for someone else who clearly doesn’t value you as a person. Working in healthcare has made me realize that many of these companies capitalize on our empathy. I have learned my soul lights up like it used to as a child, when I am working on my spiritual business and empowering women. I am a Latina Woman who comes from two strong and hard-working, immigrant parents. So I am slowly coming out of survival mode because that is all I know. So, being a spiritual business woman does not resonate in the Latino community. However, I have learned that I am worthy of a successful business. As I have embodied this worthiness, I am seeing my spiritual business growing and my creativity unlocking. The reason why I mention the inner child, is because when I was a child, I remember that child being fearless, and never giving a fuck about what others thought of her. That is why I invite you to let your inner child come through and take over. Let your inner child take the wheel or the passenger seat. Put your ego in the back seat. Put that bitch in the trunk. When you are ready to change your life, however you see that fit for you let your inner child come through. When you choose a goal, let your inner child guide you. As you do this, you honor your inner child and you begin to heal that person that needed this empowerment and confidence.

Dear whomever;

I became a teacher to shift the paradigm and break the chains of toxic tradition. My childhood education experience paralleled that of Matilda. Most all my teachers were more Trunchbull and less Honey with the exception of 2 up through high school graduation and gaining another 4 up through my masters program. When I decided to become a teacher, I wanted to be a Ms. Honey, I wanted to be what I so desperately needed as a child—And I did. My biggest flex is that I became the adult I needed, the teacher, the mom, the neighbor. But here’s what they don’t tell you: the cost of becoming a chain breaker, a paradigm shifter, a warrior, a Ms. Honey is expensive. Its loneliness, its heartbreak, its rage, frustration, anxiety, and despair.

As an educator, you often hear: “Know your why”, “remember your why”, “it’s for the kids.” And while this is absolutely the truth and it does help keep focus; it does nothing to shield the abuse hurled from those satisfied, or even winning, with the mediocrity of tradition. My fellow educators are overwhelmed, defeated, and burnt out. This leaves no energy for change because change is hard work and dedication. I have found that very few admin appreciate growth as well. The worse abuse I have ever faced in education, is from principals and assistant principals. Those in power, when there is perceived threat of losing control or power become the most dangerous. It takes an unusual strength to stand in an abusive environment and feel unscathed. I don’t think I have this strength.

I feel guilty because I think about leaving the education career. Yes I have thought about changing districts and schools- unfortunately, in my experience toxicity is everywhere and the unknown of new administration is scary. I don’t have much self or energy to give left. I never know when entering a new school environment if when they say things like they are “student centered” or “wanting student advocates” if they actually mean it. My experience has shown that more often these are tokens administration throws out to entice teachers with little to no intention of follow through.

I look at the other Honey’s scattered throughout the US knowing they face similar treatment and I think of how brave and strong they are. I have my master’s degree, I am trauma informed, I’ve completed my national board certification- for absolutely nothing. I don’t have the skin to be unaffected by ill-treatment. I’m not a Trunchbull. But I’m not a Ms. Honey either. I don’t know what I am; I think I’m just finished.

Dear whoever needs a reminder,

At this point in time, you’ve probably heard the term “Gratitude Practice” in pop culture. It centers on looking at the things in your life through a lens of appreciation. It requires an ability to shift your focus and play up the parts of life that we often overlook. Gratitude practice for me has been a long developing perspective shift, but the benefits have been unparalleled. Practicing gratitude in my daily life allows me to stay present, but it also helps me reflect on bigger moments with an appreciation for the work I’ve done. From a bird’s-eye view, I am able to solidify the reality of all I have to be grateful for.

Graduating with my bachelor’s in psychology at the beginning of the pandemic scared me into thinking that I would never get to do the type of work I had been dreaming of. Schools were closed. Volunteer programs halted. And I felt that I would be stuck working in restaurants for the rest of my life.

It’s hard to see the path forward when your head is down.

But being grateful for all that I did have around me, recognizing the efforts I put in to get there, being coupled with people assuring me that my degree wasn’t going to waste helped me see that a bump in the road or a change of plans doesn’t mean you should throw your life course out the window. So as soon as I could, I started substituting in classrooms again. And during one of my subbing escapades, I stumbled upon an open position in a classroom that felt like exactly what I had been working towards.

Now Monday through Friday, for 7 hours a day, I get to connect with a small group of high school students in an Emotional Disturbance class.

I get to teach them in ways no one ever took the time to. I get to expose them to ways of thinking and opportunities that they don’t typically have access to. I get to be a witness to real growth. And I get to learn more about myself through their own special personalities. I have never woken up consistently excited to go to work until this past year. I feel gratitude every day I drive to work, every time I see my students faces, and every time I think of how much I wanted this.

“Stop and smell the roses.” It’s one of the best things you can do for yourself. Certainly not every day with my students is a magical transformation. Some days feel like quite the opposite. But in the grand scheme of things, I know that I am exactly where I want to be. Connecting and guiding. At the intersection of growth and patience.

My students remind me that life is not an uphill battle, as much as it may feel that way sometimes. By being grateful for your progress, you can acknowledge that what you have now is what you once wanted. Use this as fuel for the present as much as you use it as fuel for your future.

Dear World,

I will admit sometimes I complain. Some days, I am grumpy and exhausted and feel the world’s weight on my shoulders. When I am knee-deep in those moments, I often go for a walk or rollerblade by the beach, where I look around and take a breath, and I am quickly reminded of how lucky I am. There are so many reasons I have to possess tremendous gratitude for my life.

I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the country, with a roof over my head and food for every meal. A few years ago, I discovered my purpose and was able to start and pursue a business that speaks to my soul. I am, knock on wood, healthy and happy. Also, I have the most amazing people in my life.

My mom calls me daily to check in, asking, “What are you doing? How’s your day.” She always wants to make sure I am happy and at my best. Throughout the week, you can catch my father sharing all my business social media posts, bursting with pride, and doing whatever he can to support my dreams. My big brother, Andrew, is my lifeline. He gives me the best advice, personally and professionally. He has a way of looking at my life challenges through a clear and logical lens and can always guide me. My friends are loving, supportive, and just a phone call away. Some proofread my writing, give me business tips, or listen to me for hours talk about whatever I need to get off my chest. They want nothing more than to see me live my best life. And my boyfriend is the kind of partner that will surprise me and bring back my favorite meal. He will play with my dog and have dinner with my parents on nights when I know he has a ton of work to do. His thoughtfulness makes it clear that he genuinely cares about me.

All the people in my life make me feel loved, supported, and joyful. My circle is the source of my strength, as I am flooded with positive energy and kindness. I know that my family and friends will never let me fall too far or hard. So while the universe has blessed me in so many ways, what I love most about my life are the people I am fortunate enough to share it with.

Love,

It’s about to get personal here. You’ve been with me for way too long. You’ve torn down my self-confidence, you’ve creeped into the narratives that I tell myself, you have kept me grounded and not in a good way, but in a self-isolating way, you’ve even made a place for yourself in my beliefs. You have long outstayed your welcome and you need to leave now.

I was listening to a podcast recently on shame and I found the hosts definition of shame interesting. Shame was defined (on this podcast at least) as wanting to receive love, affection, and affirmation from someone, but not receiving that love in the presence of others. I remember one of my earliest memories of shame creeping in was in 4th grade. A classmate had quite a hatred towards me, though I don’t recall doing anything to her to make her hate me. Anyways, she put a death threat in my desk. I came to school that day and found it on top of my books and folders. The girl who wrote it came all too perfectly at the exact moment I found it, grabbed it out of my hands and ripped it up (a tactic she employed so she wouldn’t get in trouble). I decided to try and tell the teacher what happened, but without proof she didn’t believe me. I was depressed the whole day and she noticed and asked what was wrong and I told her again what had happened. But she didn’t believe me. I wanted and needed to hear the affirmation that it wasn’t my fault. That someone was on my side and that they were going to help me when this felt like too much for me to handle on my own. My younger self was forced to ask the question “why me?” And even though I understand now that hurt people hurt people, but I still ask “why?” 4th grade me thought the teacher would at least call my parents to let them know what had happened, but since she didn’t believe me she didn’t believe there was a reason to call my parents. Shame is what kept me from telling them. Shame thrives in secrecy and self-isolation.

It’s taken me years of hard work, therapy and tears to realize that a lot of the healing process includes grieving. I’ve realized that breaking up with you will be beneficial for me. One of my favorite pump up songs “Favorite Sound” by Echosmith says “[I] shouldn’t apologize for just existing…..shouldn’t apologize for just being me…….I’m learning how to turn around all the voices in my head I think I’ve found my favorite sound.” My favorite sound is me writing you this letter. My favorite sound is me unlearning all the lies you told me, like that I was unlovable and that there must be something wrong with me. My favorite sound is me learning that I am loveable after all. I’m learning the joy of just being me. I’m learning that I was not wrong, I was was just someone who had wrong done to them and didn’t know what to do. And I will continue putting the sound of self-love on replay over and over and over until it becomes natural for me.

But shame your soundtrack is being deleted. Hasta freaking la vista. Goodbye and good riddance shame. You don’t rule anymore.

Truthfully,

I didn’t think it would be this hard. Accepting the diagnosis of *permanently disabled* The fact is, that I have a brain injury. An invisible injury that no one but myself knows about unless we strike up a conversation. What’s the hardest part? The depression. The untreatable with medication depression. The PTSD and the pains haunt me. When I see another woman my age, so beautiful and fit, so full of energy and life, sometimes I’m hit with grief. Why is that you might ask? The days for me lately have been divided out and measured by how much, or how little energy I have that morning waking up. If my body is screaming at me or being kind to me. It all depends. I proudly carry the badge of a domestic violence survivor, but inside my invisible bruises smother my light as the depression tries to take over. My Dr told me that I was beautifully broken. My heart and my brain agree. I just want to be free from the sadness. It feels impossible. Be “mindful” they say. As the tears pour down my face. I hold on for dear life these days riding the waves. Learning to live myself again, and nurturing my invisible bruises. 🩶

Dear Walt Disney,

Like you, I am both a creative and an entrepreneur. Your legacy inspires me beyond measure.

See, this weekend, I visited Walt Disney World, a collection of theme parks named in your honor and developed based on many of your ideas and creations. It’s the second time I have been there just this year and the sixth time in my life. Each time I go to Disney World, I leave amazed. The parks are enormous, and yet they are so detail-oriented. On average, 58 million people visit Disney World and its parks yearly. Each day, the average revenue for Disney World is $82 million. The parks at Disney World are unlike any other amusement park in the world. And the amount of joy you have brought to people’s lives through these parks and your films is never ending and not quantifiable.

When I look up at the castle at Magic Kingdom or the ball at EPCOT, I can’t help but think about how this entire empire started with just a vision and a simple cartoon, and that cartoon is now an American icon known as Mickey Mouse.

While I don’t know how to draw and have no ambition to go into the theme park business, my visions are bigger than anyone else can see. And my starting point is simple. It’s not a mouse like Mickey, but rather a letter – written from one human to another.

Through letters, I want to inspire people, unite different cultures, and catalyze productive conversations on critical social issues that impact our society. My business is still small – in its infancy. But my vision is clear and so big.

Mr. Disney, you give me so much hope and fire to keep marching forward.

For me, Disney World is not just a place for rides, shows, and good food. And your legacy is so much more than the drawings you created. Both are reminders of what is possible with a simple concept, a big vision, and a determined spirit.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

I had fallen into a career I truly loved, selling floor care, cleaning products, and equipment. It came on the heels of me losing a job with United States Steel, Duquesne Works, in Pittsburgh. The mill closed, and I thought that was it for me, but my mother taught me to have a good work ethic, so out hunting work, I went. I found two jobs being a janitor. I had to provide for my family, so I did what I had to do. Fast forward 18 years after a very successful career. I loved the work, I loved serving others, and that’s what sales is – serving others. After 18 years with a great national brand of floor care products, Hillyard, Inc, they were changing how they went to market. They were slowly removing company sales representatives like me and moving towards independent distributors. I was the last of the company salesmen, and I knew my career was about to change. I was very frightened. I did not want to work for someone else. I had been relatively independent for 18 years and had built a book of customers of over two million dollars. So faced with a decision and scared to death I decided I would start an independent distributorship. I had never done anything like this, but I thought long and hard and wanted to leave something for my three kids. I wanted to leave a legacy and a business for our children, should they want it.

So I got some outside help and put together a business plan. I scheduled a meeting with the owners of the company I worked for and flew out to St Joseph, Mo. to Hillyard Company to present my business plan to the owners suggesting I’d become an independent distributorship, and the rest is history. That was September 10th, 2001. They quickly agreed. I ended my employment with them and took into the work of building Fagan Sanitary Supply Co. Some 20 years later, my children successfully run the company, and I sit here retired on a beach in the Bahamas. It was a frightening but great decision!

Dear Unsealed Community,
When I was in my first semester of college at C. W. Post I was very unhappy. I had never been away from home for any length of time or away from my parents. I was also a very sheltered 18 year old so I was a bit unprepared for the typical college bad behavior that goes on. Adding to this, I did not get along with my roommate or her boyfriend who was always sleeping in the small room with us. All this was a recipe for a case of extreme homesickness. I was heartbroken and needed my parents to be back in my life on an every day basis.
I made the difficult decision to leave a beautiful 4 year college and apply to the community college near my home in Rockland County. My parents thought it was a poor decision. They felt I was cheating myself out of the full college experience. But I needed to sleep in my own room and be in a smaller college environment where it was easier to make friends. I wanted smaller classes and a few more familiar faces at school. That is the beauty of community college.
As I look back on that unusual shift in my life, I feel sure I made the right decision. From the first day in of community college, I was happy. The teachers were interesting and caring. I was able to engage in in depth conversations because the class size was smaller. As the semester progressed, I made some great friends and also did extremely well in all my studies. But most importantly, I was back in the loving comfort of my home. I have much gratitude for my dear parents, Bess and Calvin Kalstein for supporting my decision to take a step back in my life. Sometimes going back is ok because it propels you to go forward.

With love,
Shelley

Almost six years ago, I graduated from Youngstown State University with honors and a Bachelor’s Degree of Journalism. I majored in Journalism, but I always tell people that I had a double-minor at YSU. I technically minored in Communication, but I had another minor: Determination.

Being on the autism spectrum, I attended job counseling. Every week, my job counselor had me try my best to find leads on job openings in journalism. It’s a small field and it’s something that’s easier said than done because of it.

About a month and a half into job counseling, I applied for, and was granted a job interview for, a production assistant’s position at one of the local network affiliates in town.

Days turned to weeks, and the weeks stretched into a few months. By this point, I was well into spring and still had no job. It seemed bleak, but a college classmate of mine told me about a website he was writing for.

So, I applied. Initially, I was declined because I wasn’t in the market of a major Division I athletic program, but I mentioned to the person in charge of onboarding that I’m a fan in MMA and in the fight game, there’s no offseason, just off weekends.

On the strength of that alone, I was hired as an MMA writer. Had I not taken a chance on the fight game, I’m not sure where I’d be today. 2023 marks my sixth year of writing about MMA and my second of writing about soccer.

If you’re willing to take a risk on yourself, the payoff can be something amazing. GO FOR IT!

Mentor: what do the last three syllables of that sound like? TOUR, a guide, and in the word MENtor, it’s MEN who are guided along for the tour of life: not literal men, people.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the place, middle school, the time, 2009, I was only 11 but, oh, I hear that rhythmic bell blasting right now;

it was the very first day of sixth grade when That final bell rang, it was time to go home!

I had an aide whose job was to help me with everything I needed. We walked downstairs, she at my side, making sure I did not get clobbered by all the rascals passing by me. We ended up “in the clear”. What came next was clear as day, forever seared into my memory…

“I learned more from you in one day than you can ever teach me,” she said. Her name? Ms. Rossi, and at the time. I remember thinking whoever this Ross guy is, (her boyfriend) he is a lucky man, and he eventually put a ring on it!

Anyway, excuse my diversion, As I was saying.. that compliment meant and still means something that even a Picasso painting can explain and anytime I need a jolt of motivational coffee, I envision my 11-year-old self hearing that endearing comment and smiling ear to ear; however, that statement, “I learned more from you in one day than you can ever teach me,” could not have been further from the truth!

A couple of days went by, and my mom’s best friend, a second mother to me, and my Occupational therapist, (OT) came into school for what seemed like an eternity! She taught me how to properly sit in this “special” blue and red chair.

Ms. Rossi did not blink an eye, as she was swallowing it all the instructions given to her up. As for me, I was swallowing it all up, then regurgitating it all right back out. Hey, can you blame me? My OT has a strong tone and after all, she is like my second mother.

I sat there like a flight attendant and only moved when my OT told me to.

She was the one who taught me how to do my daily activities in life which I was ignorant of and would have rather watched paint dry.

When my OT left, I took a deep breath of thank goodness this is over. Then, I remember taking one more breath – this time with excitement because Ms. Rossi whispered in my ear, “I promise you, I will NEVER be as hard on you as she was.”

Let’s just say, it was Ms. Rossi that did not remind me to take my binder to the next class and forced me to go back to retrieve it. That boy who thought her boyfriend was lucky to have her, now saw a different side, a fierce side.

I must say that if we played the Newlywed game, she would know every answer before the questions were asked.

I vividly remember having a gag reflex, and she could tell if it was an itch on my back or because I failed a test; It was like she could see into the future. one day, I was in class without a care in the world and thinking I was disrespected by my other teachers by them not having the same expectations Ms. Rossi did! she whispered in my ear, saying “I know YOU don’t want to have an aide and want to go to college: I don’t want to be an aide; I want to be a Headteacher.

it turns out that that whisper spoke as loudly as anything I’ve heard in my entire life, Propelling me to ignore all the whispers about me not being able to succeed, and not only getting an undergraduate degree but in turn, a masters degree.

As for the now Mrs. Candel, she has two children, she is a Headteacher and yes, it is at that same school, teaching english and social studies.

All I know, whatever lesson plans she has for her students, nothing will EVER compare to the LESSONS she TAUGHT ME!

Photo Credit: MenTOR

I could say I’ve known you forever, but that wouldn’t seem quite right. I guess I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. But even then, I’ve only known you partially. You’ve revealed yourself in different ways over the years and given me new reasons to love you. You’ve made days worth it. You find meaning in the little things and you know how to dress up a dollar. You go out of your way to make things inclusive and memorable. Most of all, you keep trying when you feel like you have no clue what you’re doing or where you are going.

We lose contact every once in a while. Sometimes I think I’ll never be with you again. It’s not like I lost your phone number, or you moved far away. It’s just sometimes I forget you’re there. I forget how to access you. In the past, I’d retreat further and further away before I remembered you exist and how to make contact. But now, I know to reach out a little sooner. You always know what to do and how to make things better.

There’s really no difference between me and you. The separation happens when I compare parts. I look at you as the “healthy version of me” but I should just be seeing me when I’m healthy. Rather than thinking of you as the “me” that I love, I’ll just love me. I’ve learned it’s a lot easier and more genuine to love when you aren’t doing it in parts. So, one day soon, I’ll just love me. After all, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”