Activity
-
bnahlmarkgmail-com submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
-
Ava Lawrey shared a letter in the
Magical Moments group 3 months agothe best day of my life
ava lawreymarch 15 2025
the best day of my lifeI want to preface this by saying the title may be slightly misleading-march 15 was not the best day of my life in question (although, it was pretty good).
after spending a couple hours dillydallying about fisherman’s wharf and pier 39 in San Francisco, I decided to take the cable car back to my hotel (only the cable car took us half way, kicked us out, and told us to take the bus, which I opted to walki the mile, I decided I needed to walk that extra scoop of ice cream off). anywho, I was sitting in the cable car, distracting my mind from being present, scrolling through tiktok while also on facetime with my long-distance best friend. i saw a tiktok that nearly stopped me dead in my tracks. he was posing the question of “what was the best day of your life?” and I really thought ‘wow, I can’t pinpoint that’. and of course, the comments were filled with similar thoughts to my own.
what’s even worse, I could immediately think of an exact date that I’d consider the worst day of my life. I can tell you all the details about that day. almost as if I can relive it.
so it had me thinking, what could possibly have been the best day of my life? and a lot of people like to go the route of they haven’t lived it yet, they haven’t gotten to the best day ever yet. but that proves the point.
that proves that we are always just waiting for the next best. that we’re always comparing every good thing to happen to something else. that enough is never actually enough. success isn’t successful enough. happiness isn’t happy enough. every good thing could be better. we have so deeply engrained in us the ideal that the grass is greener on the other side. that’s what drives people to infidelity. because there’s always someone else out there that could be better, right?it’s the potential we hold onto, the hope that we grasp onto. I think it gives us purpose- knowing the best day ever has yet to come. that we will always have something to look forward to because the best day has yet to happen. (at least, for the glass half full kinda people- optimistically scouring the earth for meaning, searching for the positive in every situation, seeing the world as beautiful and abundant.)
but I don’t think that way. I think when we are asked what the best day of our life has been, it’s conclusive only of what we have so far experienced. it’s a day that’s subjective. and may continue to get replaced as we live on, and value other things and find other events more fulfilling or more joyful.
it’s much easier to pinpoint the worst day ever because we don’t want to top it. we don’t want to one up some really bad shit. we want to leave it in the past. horrible days beg for our acknowledgement because they drain the life out of us. experiencing a day so bad that you were so painfully aware of all of your surroundings down to the smell of the stale air in the brick room of the house that was built in 1812 that you were standing on. down to the sound the floor made when you stepped on the creaky wood on your way out the door for the final time. you’ll remember exact phrases you said, exact ways that you felt. tastes, smells, sights, absolutely consumed you in a moment that left a forever imprint on your being. maybe not everyone’s worst day of their life was a traumatic event, but I think a lot of people have experienced trauma in even smaller scales.
horrible events beg for us to be sucked into them. they are so energetically draining, like a black hole, an energy vacuum. the energy we put towards negativity requires more effort than feelings of joy, which is why negative memories are far easier to remember than those that were joyful. bad things are often synonymous with our uncontrollables in life. because, unfortunately, we are unable to control everything in our life, which can lead to unfavorable things taking place. and, well, that’s life. but it takes a decision, effort, to make a positive thing happen. it takes effort to have the best day ever, and the worst day ever is typically one that happens TO us, rather than for us, perhaps.
though, I believe joy requires more autonomy. it’s like the paralysis of decision. deciding which day we can proclaim as the best feels like too much pressure. there’s where the pressure to be perfect comes into play. the pressure for the best. we have more choice in the decision of the best moments in our life than our worst. as I feel joy is a passive feeling, that is fleeting because it feels good to flow with the emotion of. and experiencing pain or suffering is much more active, as we spend the time in efforts to resist the feeling, rather than sitting in it and going with the flow. it’s easy to get in the boat and flow happily along the river, it feels good, natural, easy. it’s much easier to be joyful and have a happy memory. but you’ll remember the time you had to row upstream in a storm and all of the effort you had to put in to keep moving forward. same way our brain works through memories.
somehow, joy takes effort and happens naturally all at once. that’s the duality of it. it can be easy, and so difficult.
so, I was thinking about my best day. and I think where I’m struggling is that I want to combine a bunch of favorite memories to make the most perfect best day ever. I find something wrong with each day that I start to think is the best I’ve had. nothing is sufficient. it doesn’t help that I’m a happy crier, it doesn’t take much to make me feel emotional in a good way. and every time I feel so encompassed in my emotion, my eyes swell, I feel so deeply. that’s why I’ve been pondering my best day ever, wracking my brain of every positive memory I have ever had in my 24 years of existence thus far.
luckily for us, we’re likely to replace our best day ever time and time again. it just means we experience way more good in life than bad, and thank the Lord for that.
my most recent best day ever was in Belgium.
I arrived in Brussels and decided I wanted to take the train to Ghent. oddly, I have felt an overwhelming sense of comfort every time I’ve been to Belgium, a home-like feeling. this time was no different. on the 40-minute train to Ghent, I sat by the window. put my phone face down on the tray table in front of me, took my airpods out and put them back in their case, and just stared out the window. I do this thing when I’m traveling where I actively try to soak in every single moment, especially the mundane moments. (though I’m realizing I’m a hypocrite based on paragraph two of this.) if you lived in Brussels and took the train to Ghent every weekend, you likely would find ways to distract yourself, you would get used to the ride, bored of it even. not me, this was my first time. and looking out at the countryside, it was so eerily similar to parts of Kentucky where I’m from, and I started tearing up. the small part of myself that misses home was feeling engulfed in this moment. the little girl that was coloring next to me kept looking over at me and I’d like to think it was because she thought I was cool, but she probably actually thought I was ridiculous. I actually thought she was really cool, I was thinking wow, how cool would it have been to grow up here.
after getting dropped off in Ghent, I wandered through the streets, and this is what I have in my note’s app,
“the countryside of belgium, perhaps ‘the burbs’ inbetween brussels & ghent, actually look eerily like kentucky. and i feel weirdly at home.
ok everyone comes out on sunday to buy tulips & other flowers in ghent? thats cute. and the rich people have having bottles of wine & charcuterie in the middle of all of it”that doesn’t tell you much. but for a moment, I envisioned myself living here, coming out on a Sunday afternoon to buy tulips and have a European brunch with family and friends, and I liked the way I felt a serotonin boost just by picturing that alone.
I decided to take a little touristy boat tour through the canals for 9 euros (where the f is the euro symbol on my keyboard?). I sat down next to a girl who said she’s from Vancouver, who proceeded to tell me about her corporate job that absolutely went over my head. I thought she was cool enough to share a boat seat with for 40 minutes I suppose.
when I took the train back to Brussels after having wine and the best brioche with chocolate chips, I wandered around (clearly I do a lot of that). ate more random little bites and stumbled into my favorite little park in the city where there is always live music and people joined around. by live music, I mean men who pull up with a guitar and sing typically. but it always speaks to my soul. and I get emotional every time. I sat and listened, I watched, I took some deep breaths to take it all in.
later that night, I stumbled into a cool reclining wooden chair looking at the cathedral where I sat to watch as the sun went down, and I felt God smiling at me. I swear. on my walk back, I got mistaken for a local and that made me feel like I belong in a cool girl way. I even got gelato and the man shaped it into a rose for me. I saw more people singing but this time in the Grand Place, and I fell in love with life all over again.
all of that goes to say, maybe that was my most favorite day ever. but then, I can’t help but to think there was probably a day in my life that tops that. part of me feels like the best day ever should have included a cool accomplishment, like when I graduated flight attendant training and was really emotional about it, or ran 20 miles for the first time, or hiked a mountain, my first solo hiking trip, or my first solo international trip, or something. but maybe my silly little 24-hour work trip to Brussels where I took a train to Ghent will sit there for now. and I won’t rush the next best day ever. somehow there is something really awesome about every single day, even the ‘meh’ days.
-
Ava, I love everything about this piece. Your honesty and “realness” is refreshing. Though I haven’t been able to travel as much as I’d like, your trip to Belgium sounds like a dream. What you said about always looking for our next best say really resonated with me. Instead of hoping for something better, I will make an effort to soak up what I…read more
-
hi emmy, thank you for this <3 I try to be as real as possible, I feel we have lost a bit of originality and authenticity in today's world. all we have is the present moment and I think there is something special about each day. anywho, soak it all up 🙂
-
-
-
Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoBeannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!
Dear Unsealers:
It’s the seventeenth day of March.
So the adage goes, we’re all a little bit Irish today. With that in mind, I hope that everyone has a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day with all the luck.
As I’ve done since 2021, I’ve written my own Irish blessing, and it goes like this…
On this, the 17th day of March
A blessing from me to youMay the sun shine upon you
Blue skies above, green grass belowRainbows to appear when you’re near
A life lived joyfully, without many tearsFor your troubles to be less
The craic always kept in good cheerAll the shamrocks bringing luck
With the warmth of Eire’s heart, soulThere’s one more thing to say
To everyone on the Emerald Isle…Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh-
Oswald, I’ve always loved the fun and celebratory spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. After all, who doesn’t want to feel a little luckier than usual? I love how your poem captures the positive and uplifting nature of the holiday and also pays homage to the Irish. Thank you for sharing!
-
-
journeyfox submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoFlowers for you my Love
Journey I.K FoxHave you seen a garden of Lilies and Forget-me-not’s?
Deepest melancholic blue,
And a pure white,They grow only in the best soil, and that’s my chest.
Their roots tangle into my lungs and nourish them with tears.You could never understand this strange creature I call a heart.
Ripping Flowers from my skin to make you a bouquet.
My blood drips for you, my ghost.
Something that wasn’t truly living could never die.Like the warmth from an “I love you”
It lingers every day, to once a week, once a month,
Soon enough to become an ache in your chest.I can wish on Stars, but I know the cost of the dead.
But hope is the last to die, so I grow a garden in my chest.
Each flower is a gravestone for every hope, dream, and what-ifBut my Ghost, and my love, it grows back every time
Even if you won’t take my flowers,
I love them just as much as I love you.Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Journey, this poem is a powerful testament to the depth of the love you feel. Your detailed description of various flowers reflects your attention to detail in showing the true nature of your love. Even though it seems like your love may be unrequited, you are steadfast in your dedication. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem!
-
-
michae1 submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoDocumented
Michael L George jrAs an addict, I know
How it feels to be misunderstood.
Most feel judgement,
Feel inadequate,
Once you make the decision
To get clean, in my opinion. Feels
Like nobody cares, lost in despair.
As the ones who have never
Been there, throw shade.
Not understanding the difficulties
In place. Probably why I feel
More comfortable, around
Other’s who have been through
The pain, it’s not easy to
To express if you don’t relate.
From the outside Looking in,
It seems crazy, just like anything.
At first it’s misunderstood,
Sometimes, you need the experience!
Not just the scriptures out of a book.
I know when I tell my story
It will resonate with somebody.
Understand me when I say,
“Not everyone is gonna feel your pain”.
But like most we’re all
Misunderstood, we can
Only imagine what another
Has been through.
If you see someone
In a Mercedes or dresses fancy.
You might think, ohh, they got it good.
But that’s just the surface.
You don’t know how they got it
Or what it took.Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Michael, though I am not an addict, I can imagine the feelings of judgment from others and from yourself can be nearly debilitating. You are right that when we see successful people, we have no idea how hard they worked to get to that point. They may have once been an addict, too. Thank you for sharing your experience! I wish you the best.
-
Thank you, appreciate the feedback thus could apply to
Other addictions it comes in many Forms
-
-
-
Kendra Bendewald shared a letter in the
Surviving Addiction group 3 months agoI see you
Kendra BendewaldYou can see us on street corners
Or down the dark alleys
We are hardly a sight for sore eyes
We are dirty and vacant
With ripped clothes and sad faces
We wear this as our new disguise.
See some time ago
We were regular people
Until something in life got us down
Whether it heartbreak or money
Family or lack of
There’s something we needed to drown
The voices in our heads
That tell us we aren’t worth shit
Or The memories we just can’t move on from
Maybe it’s trauma or sadness
Or just basic madness
Fill in the blank with your own noun
It ripped us apart
And it spit out the pieces
And robbed us of all we once cherished
We were desperate for relief
So we followed the dragon
We got lost on the way; our souls perished.
Now as is probably Expected
Pretty much textbook
We burn bridges with selfish behavior
Some of us come back
And they find inner peace
And usually they call it their savior
But some of us misfits
The world has forgotten
We’re broken and fucked up
downright dirty and rotten
Someone or something has shattered our hearts
And we know that we’re never the same
So we escape all the pain
With powder or pills
And we find ourselves stuck in this game
We spiral and wander
Away from reality
And further down into the abyss
The people around us
eventually give up
Cause what’s even still there to miss?
We are just scumbags on street corners
Or down the dark alleys
We’re junkies; unfortunate souls
We fucked up, we get it
We don’t need reminded
Please shut up or spark up a bowl-
Kendra, this is so powerful but also heartbreaking. You are so worthy. I want to send you the biggest hug, and I hope you find the healing in your heart and the happiness in your life that you so deserve. Please also check out our resources page, theunsealed.com/resources. Sending you the biggest hug.
Sharing with some of our users that can…read more
-
Kendra, this poem is raw and powerful. It is easy for others to judge a situation when they aren’t the ones to experience it, but they don’t realize the individual story that each person experiencing addiction has. You are so right that these individuals do not need reminders of what they’ve done at their worst, but instead deserve compassion and…read more
-
Kendra,
That is absolutely beyond beautiful 🌹
You hit the nail on the head in a lot of areas. I just want to share one with you, I’m sure you’ll understand.
I wrote this at correctional treatment facility in 2000, it’s called…The Cloud:
I have this cloud inside my brain
That storms out loud with lightning and rain
That no one can take my…read more-
That is amazing! I love the cloud reference too. Being a past frequent flyer in treatment facilities I remember the pink cloud lesson well
-
-
P.S.
You are an Angel
You guard with your life people such as myself, and you know the ones that are like us. Never give up, and when you’re feeling hopeless remember…
You have superpowers inside, just as Lauren Brill has spoken and written about. Please believe her cuz the woman knows what she’s talking about too. I have more respect for you…read more
-
-
attyoaks submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoMask Off
Misty ReignMaybe they don’t feel me
Maybe they don’t understand
Maybe they’re buying into
Everything they think I am
Maybe my reputation precedes me
Maybe they Googled my name
Maybe they’re bringing up old shit
And the internet is to blameI hope they see me as
Confident not arrogant
Relevant & pertinent
Affluent & Heaven-Sent
Walking in my purpose
And saying what I meant
Flyer than a paper plane
Marvelously working brain
Shining like a supernova
Without one trace of rain
And when I stand up & speak
All their knees get weak
Cause my personality & delivery
Be all the way on fleekBut deep inside
Despite my shine
I feel lonely, conflicted in my mind
Scared to show my true self
Cause they wouldn’t understand
All the levels and dimensions
Of everything I am
All my insecurities
The powerful shadow side of me
The good bad and ugly
What an awful sight to see
I feel that they won’t get me
So I have to protect me
And be everything I should be
Until I’m brave enough to just be
So I show them my light side
Turn my wattage up real bright
Just maybe I can blind them
Into believing I’m alright(c) 2025 Misty Oaks Paxton (“Misty Reign”)
Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Misty, this poem captures the conflicting emotions surrounding putting yourself out there. When we put ourselves in a position in which we may be judged, we start to doubt ourselves and question our decisions. Despite this conflict, I can tell that you have confidence and drive that will see you through any uncertainty. Thank you for sharing your…read more
-
-
ashleyshanaj submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoEveryone is watching me.
Ashley JonesIt’s exhausting. Over-explaining, then under-explaining because now I’m scared to open my mouth and talk about it. Always an argument, always a debate, always a back and forth. I’m tired of it. So many times I have to correct myself to stroke people’s egos that I am now trapped in my own mind. I belittle myself to make others feel big. I have to explain over and over what I mean when I’m simply speaking to someone without the ability to comprehend. I diminish my thoughts because others are insecure. I hate being fake; I’d rather be real even if it hurts. See, no one ever holds their tongue with me, but I have to abide. So misunderstood, I feel like one of those princesses that’s great, but people have me locked inside. I’ve created my own anxiety and insecurity because I can’t be me. Overthinking every response because I don’t want any backlash. I’m tired. I’m tired of being caged while others roam free. Their trauma runs so deep they can only hear from their level of “free.” I’m paralyzed when others don’t do their healing work. I’m constantly in circles because others are hurt. When I’m alone, I know my worth. Being around those who don’t understand me cages me mentally. I just want to be free to be me without the misunderstandings.
Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Ashley, I think that the fact that you realize your worth when you are alone simply means that you are good enough company all on your own! You don’t need people to fill in the gaps for you when your mind has all it needs anyway. I hate that you feel the need to diminish yourself so that others are not uncomfortable, and I hope that one day you…read more
-
-
Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoMood: Nostalgic
HeatherCan we go back to playing barbies on the bedroom floor?
Playing baby dolls on rainy days?
Or to those Saturday mornings of cartoons & a big bowl of Fruit Loops cereal?
Can we go back to those summer days of frozen Capri Suns, popsicles, & all day swim sessions?
Or to those skid knees from falling off bikes.
Falling down from rollerblading.
Can we go back to late night sleepovers at grandma’s house?
Or those next morning wake up calls of fresh pancakes consuming grandma’s house.
Can we go back to playing videos games all night?
Playing the game tag all day outside?
Can we go back to a time when it wasn’t rushing us to grow old?
When time was less of our worries.
Or to those summer days of riding bikes in dust storms feeling powerful?
Can we go back to a time when feeling free was all we knew?-
Heather, this takes me back to my childhood. My younger sister and I spent long summer days outside feeling as if they would never end. When we are children, we usually don’t realize the beauty of a life without adult responsibility. I’d love to go back too! Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
-
Heather, I so feel all of this, and these thoughts enter my head every now and then. Childhood was so magical and I never knew life would be so different when I grew up. Maybe it doesn’t have to be? Thank you for sharing. I am going to feature this piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
-
Thank you for this! & thank you for sharing in the newsletter. Means so much to not just me but to my internal human who finds such zen in writing. She FINALLY feels heard. Her words are FINALLY being seen in a community that she’s searched for so long. Thank you!!
-
-
-
blossomdivine submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
-
ichaotiqa submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months agoHow I’m Not Like All The Other Boys
Lukas QuinnOh, let me count the ways:
I cannot shoot a basketball,
I cannot sketch your face,
I don’t kiss pretty girls,
I don’t play petty games,
I won’t ever win a game of Smash Bros,
And I won’t ever drop my masks.
I think I laugh too much,
And I think I smile too large,
I have a coat of dusky scars, from acne not from war,
I have stretch marks, bone spurs, heat rash and
I guess this is rosacea, the bloodrush from my mother’s side,
(And I guess my face is prone to catching fire)
I have never been inside a school bus,
And I have never had a secret, at least not
A secret more than this:I struggle with
speaking
like I’m
reading
two / of / lines / poetry
of / two / poetry / lines
simultaneous./Special/ is the word you’d use
For someone you just can’t quite understand.
But that’s not what I am:
I can’t shoot a basketball and
I think I laugh too much.
Is that so hard to understand?Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Lukas, I love everything about this poem! The way you described your trouble with speaking as being similar to trying to read two lines of poetry at the same time helped me understand a little more about what you experience. You may not be like everyone else, but you are you, and that is enough! Thank you for sharing your experience!
-
-
Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks agoOn My Mind... Again
Martha C MooreI sit down to write
You’re on my mind again
But this is nothing new
By now I’m used to itSometimes it’s all consuming
Other times, fleeting thoughts
Either way it hits me
I’m left feeling lostI ache to my core for you
Miss every moment we never shared
I need you to know I love you
And that I’ll always careI’ll never forget you
My soul knows something is missing
My brain tries to rationalize it
But my heart is never listening-
Martha, missing someone who is no longer a part of our life leaves us feeling bereft and unmoored. No matter how irrational we know our feelings may be, it doesn’t stop them from consuming us. Whether we choose to listen to our hearts or our minds, these feelings do not often dissipate as quickly as we’d like. Thank you for sharing this moving poem!
-
Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much.
-
-
Martha, This is so beautiful and so relatable. I totally know what it’s like to miss someone you love and feel it in the vibration of your heart. I am going to feature this poem in our newsletter today. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. Sending hugs. <3 Lauren
-
Thank you for the support and encouragement. It is truly and deeply appreciated.
-
-
-
cherrie submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoLITTLE MISS
Martha C MooreLittle Miss
Little Miss
Understood
Little miss
Never good
Little Miss
Selfish
Little Miss
Hellish
Little Miss
Feeling down
Little Miss
Broken crown
Little Miss
Always mean
Little Miss
Never seen
Little Miss
Sit quiet
Little Miss
Silence your riot
Little Miss
Hate the world
Little Miss
Take you for a whirl
Little Miss
Drama queen
Little Miss
Overtly keen
Little Miss
Sunshine
Little Miss
Undermined
Little Miss
Raging storm
Little Miss
Not the norm
Little Miss
Outcast
Little Miss
Backlash
Little Miss
Hopeless
Little Miss
No sense
Little Miss
Do as you should
Little Miss
UnderstoodVoting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Cherrie, I feel this piece! We are dynamic and ever-changing in our journey towards happiness. With so many facets of our personalities and goals, it is no wonder that we are often a little misunderstood. This poem inspires me to embrace all the parts of myself! Thank you for sharing!
-
Thanks so much for reading it!!!
-
-
-
freethafupa submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
-
hangon submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoMy Disability Doesn't Define Me, So Neither Should You
Hannah GonnevilleI have learning disabilities, it’s not one that can be spotted by looking closely at the features of my face. And because it remains hidden I fear that sometimes I am misunderstood because of it.
When I share that I have a learning disability I fear that people see me through a different lens than they previously did.
I’ve had family members who have known about my learning disabilities tell me they didn’t know I was smart enough to make it on the honor roll even though I made honors every single semester of high school.
When I tell people I have a learning disability it’s as if they expect me to then cause a disturbance and act out. But I sit there quietly absorbing everything.
When I tell people that I have learning disabilities they immediately start putting limits as to my abilities and what I can and can’t achieve. So it’s easier to say nothing and silently prove them wrong.
When I tell people that I have learning disabilities people tend to assume that my IEP and accommodations exempted me from hard work. I HATE when people assume that. I worked twice as hard as to learn the topics. And even though my accommodations lessened the amount of math problems I had to solve I would sometimes end up doing more than what I was assigned so that I could make sure I mastered the concept.
When I struggle with learning or doing a task because of my learning disabilities people get frustrated with me and tell me that this should be easy. But in actuality my brain works differently and I may need to see it done a couple of times or have it explained in a different way in order to understand.
When I tell people I have learning disabilities they tend to cheapen my achievements as if I weaseled my way through a Master’s program and was handed a degree instead of earning it myself. In reality though I worked countless hours to make my way through grad school and to end up where I am today.
I had a boss who upon finding out about my learning disabilities made some distasteful and unprofessional comments about them as if I were bad and defective and not fit to serve in ministry. Oh the irony that this was after we had done a whole Inclusion Initiative geared towards people with disabilities. She barred me from helping with it.
When I tell people that I have learning disabilities they often tend to question or doubt my capacity for leadership. But I can still lead and I lead with a greater empathy and understanding because I know what it’s like to struggle.
I wish when I tell people I have learning disabilities they would see me for who I truly am…..
An intelligent
Inquisitive
Attentive
Hardworking
Tenacious
Creative
Problem solving
Professional
Empathetic
LeaderWho demands and deserves respect
And who can do whatever she puts her mind to.Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Hannah, this letter is so inspiring to me. As a teacher, I know that there are countless students with disabilities who are bright, ambitious, and completely capable of the same work as their non-disabled peers. Accommodations are simply a way to even the playing field. I am so glad that you see your worth, and I know that you will continue to…read more
-
-
dreday7878 submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoInvisible
Andrea McgonagleYou don’t get me
You never will
I’m sitting here screaming
And you still
Don’t hear me
Don’t listen
Don’t care
Don’t see
There is chaos
Inside of me
A mind that is not my own
Consumed by thoughts
That I don’t own
Things I say
I really don’t mean
Never heard
Often seen
The highest of highs
The lowest of lows
I don’t understand it
But that’s how it goes
I’m tired of the meds
Tired of pills
The pain isn’t numb
It actually kills
My spirt
My soul
My will to survive
Yet I go on
Trying to thrive
Navigating roads
Yet unable to drive
I’m tired
I’m drained
Not mentally there
To young to give up
To old to care
What you think
How you feel
You haven’t a clue
How it feels
What it’s like
When you are the glue
Holding together
A paper so thin
Knowing I’ll lose
But hoping I’ll win
So please be kind
When I am around
I’m totaly lost
Looking for found
Mental illness
It’s not for the weak
Wanting to hide
But forced to seek
Love
Acceptance
You think that you know
You haven’t a clue where my mind can go
And I don’t know either
It’s truly a trip
When you hold on so tightly
But never had a gripVoting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Andrea, this poem is beautiful and powerful. So many of us struggle with feeling like we aren’t truly seen or heard, and your words capture the complex nature of that. The succinct lines evoke an image of someone torn between conflicting emotions, and I can definitely relate. Thank you for sharing your experience!
-
That was so nice of you to say!! I feel so many people go untreated or unnoticed in this world, and usually they are the best people too.
-
-
-
lesterhaus submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoOn Confidence
Ryan LesterI miss being confident.
Having a secure attachment style.
I miss not being on antidepressants
or anti-anxiety pills
or testosterone.
Being content with life.
I miss my in-laws—
More like family than my actual family.I miss a life that doesn’t turn itself inside-out every other week.
One week, I’m Dad of the Year.
My kismet, supposedly, according to astrology.
Demystifying geometric terminology,
explaining the difference between punching up and punching down,
helping girl scouts glue
and get
Their shit together.The next, I’m wearing eye-liner
Mascara
Deep inhale of poppers;
searching for an escape.
Like an episode of Euphoria — surrounded by
Creatures of the night.
The duality of man isn’t poetic.
It’s fucking comedic.
But like, the Shakespearean version of comedy…
Tragic.
Heartbreaking.
Wretched.
But wretched enough to laugh hysterically at.
People win Oscars for playing these types of roles, after all.
Can I at least get some residuals out of this?
No? Fine.I’m not a fucking poet, anyway.
But this poetry class sure makes me want to be one.
I googled how to write poetry—
Find different words.
Avoid is/was/are, when possible.
Be vulnerable.
Experiment
With
Line Breaks.
Whatever.So I put on my eyeliner and mascara
And put the lip gloss in my pocket for later
As I plan my temporary
slipfast
drift
Windows down, racing,
Crisp night sky enters
Montrose lures.
Madonna or Gaga drown out the voice
Telling me to stay home.
Gin and tonics mute my poor, wrinkled brain
Filling in the cracks, to make it smooth.
Smooth brains don’t think.
It’s an insult, and a metaphor
so it works.
Choking it
when it screams at me to stop numbing it.And I wear the makeup
Instead of the makeup wearing me.
Because you need confidence to pull off wearing makeup.Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
“People win Oscars for playing these types of roles. Can I at least get some residuals out of this? No? Fine.” A brilliant and relatable poem. Thanks for sharing this.
-
Ryan, this poem is powerful and moving. I love how you end with “And I wear the makeup/ Instead of the makeup wearing me./ Because you need confidence to pull off wearing makeup.” When we are confident and proud, the makeup enhances our beauty instead of taking away from it. Thank you for sharing your experience!
-
-
houston8923 submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoMy Own
Alexandra HoustonMy own is strong and fearless
It has scars but is fearless.
It has been silenced and shooed.
But now stands tall and renewed.My own is purposeful and unique.
It tells a story that has made its peak.
It shines light into those who are weak and provides words for those who cannot speak.My own is beautiful and bold.
It has depth and is precious as gold.
It seeks value and truth.
The love of my own can never be renewed.My own is my voice. It’s my weapon of choice.
Sometimes misunderstood but protected from all the noise.
It’s powerful and worthy, standing out no matter the journey.Always pondering on where marks were made.
Never wanting to feel betrayed.
My own fills dark rooms with light
Something that will be worth the fight.Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Alexandra, this poem is a beautiful depiction of the strength of your voice. You are powerful and brave enough to stand up and use your words to speak truth and fight for it! I love how you describe your voice as your “weapon of choice” because our voices really do hold that power. Thank you for sharing your experience!
-
-
isaacisme submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoLost in translation 2
Isaac is meI always felt misunderstood
Being the black sheep of the family or the escape goat
I knew the dynamic wasn’t healthy but i couldn’t verbalize it
I would just lash out because of it ,
whenever i felt overwhelmed i would lash out again
Cursing out someone ,hurting someones feelings because my feelings were hurt
Not knowing maybe they didn’t know how to use their own words
Sometimes its a cycle and they didn’t question things , they just continued the behavior
How sometimes family members felt like strangers
For the longest time i didn’t feel emotionally safe i was always in danger
Not from physical harm but by verbal hard and those words i would use back were razor sharp
Over the years of going to therapy along with maturing and taking psychology i started to see
Alot of this behavior was learned and gone through generations
Well it stops with me even if its the end of me it will stop with me
No longer the villain now as my siblings got older they understood the method to my madness
All the moments as when they were kids they did not get until they grew up and started to get it
The villain was the hero all along
I started to establish and enforce boundaries and it has been what has saved my sanity
Also has saved my family , we have along way to go but we have come so far
Now with the education and emotional maturity i can sit down and have conversations to be heard and understood
Even if we agree to disagree that’s fine with me
No longer yelling or saying anything to intentionally hurt someones feelings
We are closer because of it
Love your “misunderstood” son ,brother ,grandson , nephew ,friend
IsaacVoting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Isaac, I think that it is amazing that you have been able to identify the problem within your family dynamic and that you are vowing to end the cycle of abuse. That shows a level of maturity that many adults never even reach. Being able to “agree to disagree” is hard, but it is liberating once you can do it. Thank you for sharing your experience!
-
Aww Isaac, I am so sorry you went through all that. You are so incredibly strong and I admire your perseverance and decision to end the toxicity. Sending you lots of hugs. Thank you for sharing. <3 Lauren
-
-
sterry24 submitted a contest entry to
Write a poem or letter about one way you feel misunderstood 3 months, 1 weeks agoThe Misunderstood Heart
Shelley TerryIn shadows deep, where secrets dwell,
A heart so tender, beneath a shell.
Choices made in the dark of night,
Searching for love, just to feel right.Unseen abuse, scars from the past,
A child’s heart broken, growing up fast.
Running away, chasing the light,
Yearning for love, in an endless fight.Yet here I stand, keeping it real,
With love’s tender touch, I’m made of steel.
Beneath the surface, storms rage inside,
A story of hope, where pain can’t hide.So judge not the paths that I chose to roam,
For every misstep, I still seek a home.
In the search for love, we each play a part,
With wounds that linger, yet still, I have heart.Voting is open!
Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm
-
Shelley, having heart in the face of pain and adversity shows true strength! Though we all search for love and hope that it finds us, we have to remain strong and determined throughout the process. You are right that you are made of steel, and that will protect your misunderstood heart. Thank you for sharing your experience!
-
- Load More
