A woman sits with a blanket to bear. She sits and sighs, wondering if the depression is ever going to end. She ran out of her medicine and had no way to replace it. Her impacting bubbles escaped her unsettling mind. She couldn’t figure out how to keep everything going around her in check. As the space fills with time, she asks herself many questions and writes down ideas, but the more she tries, the more she feels like everything has been tried and worn out with no one listening and no one wants to find a way to come together to help.

Dear Mental Health,

I wanted to reach out and ask, “Do you exist?” Growing up, I experienced difficulties in school, and I understand that not everyone grasps things right away. But why did you have to bring us the gift of different emotions?

I know that these illnesses, as you refer to them, affect everyone, but do they come in different categories? Are they randomly assigned to each person out there? These are questions I’m eager to understand, but perhaps that’s the mystery, isn’t it? Why are some of us chosen to face these challenges? I never asked for them, and I’ve always wondered if I could have been given different conditions. Perhaps that would have led to a different life for me—who knows?

Thank you for considering my thoughts.

In the bustling city of Huntington, Amanda had always felt like an outsider, a piece that never quite fit into the puzzle of life. Surviving a tumultuous childhood marked by trauma, her journey began with the heavy weight of her past. Experiences of abuse and betrayal had woven a complex tapestry of PTSD, anxiety, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and oppositional defiant disorder into her daily existence.

Amanda was a survivor; her resilience was forged in the fires of her struggles. After each nightmare she faced, she would find herself in therapy, seeking to untangle the knots of her pain. Her therapist, Dr. Lewis, a compassionate and wise woman, became her guiding star. Together, they explored the darkest corners of Amanda’s mind, shedding light on the shadows that loomed large.

One day, while sitting in Dr. Lewis’s office, Amanda recounted a recent episode of overwhelming anxiety that had left her paralyzed. As tears spilled down her cheeks, she expressed the fear of her past overshadowing her future. Dr. Lewis listened intently, then gently encouraged her to turn her pain into power. “You have a story worth telling. Your experiences can inspire others,” she said.

Motivated by their conversation, Amanda decided to channel her emotions into writing. She began to craft a memoir, narrating her struggles with honesty and vulnerability. Words poured from her heart, each sentence a step towards healing. As she wrote, she found solace, and with each chapter, the weight of her past began to lift.

Gradually, she built a community, connecting with others who faced similar battles through support groups. There, Amanda met Carol, a fellow survivor whose laughter was infectious despite her scars. The bond they formed allowed Amanda to glimpse hope in the eyes of another. Through sharing their stories, they discovered the strength of standing together, breaking the silence that had long surrounded them.

Amanda also found comfort in creativity, immersing herself in painting. With every brushstroke, she transformed her chaos into color, creating vibrant images that represented her journey. She titled her pieces “Mosaics of Strength,” each one a testament to resilience and beauty rising from brokenness. Her art caught the attention of a local gallery, leading to her first exhibition, where she showcased both her paintings and readings from her memoir.

On the night of the opening, Amanda stood in front of a gathering of friends, family, and strangers, her heart racing. As she read excerpts from her book, her voice trembled but grew more confident with each word. The audience listened intently, moved by her honesty and courage. By the end, tears glistened in their eyes, and applause erupted, filling the room like a warm embrace.

Despite the challenges that lay ahead, Amanda felt empowered. She understood that healing was not linear, and there would still be difficult days filled with anxiety or depressive episodes. But now, she had a toolkit—therapy, art, and a supportive community to lean on.

As she glanced around the room, she realized that she was not just a survivor of her past; she had become a beacon of hope for others. Amanda learned to embrace her journey, celebrating her survival with every step forward—a mosaic of strength, uniquely beautiful in its imperfections. With a heart full of hope and a voice to share, she reminded others that it’s okay to seek help, to share their stories, and to believe in the possibility of brighter days.

Let it burn in your throat.
The emotions from your heart, rising like a flood, and pushing to the surface,
threatening to break the dam behind your eyes, a release of flowing tears.

But the dam holds, forged of learned silence— a wall built by the hundred times your voice found no echo, no gentle hand to meet its reach.
What’s the use of a flood when the world’s ears are stone, its eyes, a blank stare?

So you let it burn, this defeated truth, a scalding current trapped behind your teeth.
It twists, while your mind raises a quiet question: why does caring cost so much, when it lands on nothing?

And the fallout?
A hollow hum where laughter used to be, a heart that learns to beat softer, to guard its own light, because sharing only dims it.

And so the fire stays, cemented, a constant, private ache— a monument to what was never heard.

A deep current runs, unseen, yet always felt, beneath the calm surface, where dark secrets dwell.
A fading light, a choice once made, the crushing weight of what was, now laid bare for me. A quiet struggle with a shadow’s rise, on a stage where eyes meet the skies. A constant hum of endless need, Questions linger, like seeds to breed. The fragile shield, nearly worn through, a blessing turned to burden’s hue.

Then, a sudden chill in a shared space.
A word like a stone cast into the waters.
The bright colors of belief now muted.
A question hangs, unheard: Is this real?
And so the mind gently retreats, a soft step back, drifting motion, no turning back.
With the body present, moving throughout the day, while consciousness finds its own distant shore a walk to a necessary vanishing, a breath of nothing.

Underneath this skin
lies uncertainty wanting clarity
fear to put one step in front
sabotaging energy
love from own heartbeat
overload of anxieties
overwhelming sensation
of healing clogged pores

Underneath all the wounds
lies beauty in progress
strength in training
courage in action
love in veins
clarity in pores

Oh brain
why must you
feel this pain
I try to heal
the cause root
even when its
been a long commute

why must you
choose to be blue
when it leaves
for an overcast
type of mood

I wish you
would simply calm
when gently rested
on my palm

This is a story about a man who wants to live a simple life without any complications. From what I have observed, he enjoys playing games, watching TV, and getting high from his medication. However, when it comes to taking care of the house or resolving issues, he prefers to do everything his own way. He is unwilling to listen to others’ thoughts or opinions and rarely allows anyone to have a voice.

What doesn’t make sense is that he claims he only wants someone who will work and bring money into the household. It seems he wants everything handed to him without giving anything back in return. He believes that money is the key to making relationships work. Based on what I am reporting, do you think he truly wants to be with someone? In what you read, do you honestly think he really has mental issues, or is he actually happy with what he has chosen? How can you go into determining those struggles when you have them yourself?

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
There’s going to be hard days.
Even easy days.
You, the person reading this,
Has the opportunity to make
The day a great one.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
Of course it’s going
To be full of ups & downs.
That’s the beauty of life.

It’s your duty as a human
To break the negative branches
And build such glory
From the leftover twigs.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
I believe in you.
I see you.
I love you.

Change. It’s a part of life.

Seasons change- the sun stays out longer, the leaves change colors and fall, the snow and ice melt, the plants begin to bloom again.
Humans change- as the years pass every person matures physically, socially, and emotionally.
Technology changes- new ideas develop and old ones are updated.
Culture changes- music and fashion fads become popular, then fade away, and sometimes come back again (though not all of those things should. Looking at you, fanny packs).

But, like it or not, ready or not, at some point everything changes.

Modify. Replace. Fade. Update. Improve. Decrease. Alter. Develop. Transform. Revive. Correct. Shift. Amend. Vary. Fluctuate. Tweak.

CHANGE. Everything changes.

I hate it. I hate change. I always have. Even more than hating change, I hate not seeing a REASON for the change. Which makes it difficult sometimes, when the Creator of the universe doesn’t think I need to know the reason, or at least not at the moment I’m asking for it.

I think this opposition to change first started when my family moved away from my childhood home at the end of 7th grade. Try telling an emotional middle school girl, who was very comfortable in her small Christian school and church, that she was now one of 500 kids at a new school where she knew no one. Needless to say, it didn’t go over well. Fast forward eight years when my parents decided to move again, this time, right before my senior year of college. I was so angry. Not at my parents, really, but at God. I felt he had ripped home away from me the last year I really needed it. It took months for me to get over that anger. Those two moves were defining moments in my life (more on that later). Looking back 21 years and 13 years respectively, I can see how the Lord worked both of those moves out for my good. (Funny how He always seems to do that). He used change to direct my life where He needed it to go, but at the time, I didn’t like the change.

Change. It’s a part of life. It’s a part of MY life. But for some reason, it has felt like this year has held more change than ever. Changes I can’t seem to understand. Changes I don’t want to understand. Change. I still hate it!

However, as I continue to wrestle through that ever-present loathing of change, I am beginning to see a thawing in my attitude towards it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still not a fan. But, throughout this year, I have tried to more purposefully and consciously look back on what the Lord has done for me. As a history teacher, this was easy. I love looking back on the past. It is literally my job description. I now have 34 years to look back on and see how God has wisely and lovingly guided me through numerous expected and unexpected changes. My goal in the coming years is to remember that history. I spend my days telling kids to remember what He has done…it’s time I took my own advice! I have no better way to sum up this new focus and attitude, than a favorite quote of mine from the Chosen. Earlier this school year, I started to watch the Chosen for the first time, after years of one of my friends encouraging me to do so. I have not regretted it. In the Chosen episode when Peter walks on water, and Jesus pulls him from the waves, Jesus holds him tightly in the boat, and says to him, “I have much planned for you, Simon. Really hard things. Just keep your eyes on Me.” That quote has played over and over in my mind in the months since I first saw that episode. But now it has MY name in it. “I have much planned for you, Jessica Dawn. Really hard things. Just keep your eyes on Me.” Like it or not, ready or not, at some point everything changes…but you know what? I serve a God who is unchangeable. That thought grounds me more and more the older I get. MY Jesus “is the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Hebrews 13:8)!

A year ago, just a few months before my 33rd birthday, I sat down and wrote, for lack of a better phrase, a personal historical account. A record of several specific ways I had seen the Lord give me the “desires of my heart” (Psalm 37:4). I am not going to rehash that whole account (if you are interested in reading that, I might be willing to share). The purpose of this account is to explain how some of the things from last year’s account have already changed, and what the Lord has taught me through those changes. What I did last year was make a list of all my responsibilities at school/work and prioritize them based on what I felt the Lord had called me to do at that point in my life. Below is an excerpt from last year’s previously mentioned “historical account”.

I want to be the absolute best middle school history teacher I can be. I have a few specific goals to work on in my classroom in the next few months to make that a reality. I want to be a better basketball coach, but more purposefully seeking out the girls on my teams who need the Lord and discipling those who already know Him. I want to keep serving the Lord here in Wilmington. I’ve struggled with this thought throughout the last couple years, about whether this is where I need to stay, but over and over God has made it clear- WIlmington, NC is where I’m supposed to serve. WCA is where God wants me to be.

Shocking no one, the top two most important responsibilities on my list were teaching history and coaching basketball. It’s been that way since I was in 4th grade. I’ve never had a question mark behind that statement. God wants me to teach history and coach basketball. Period.

Looking for it, or not. Change comes.

That has been the unexpected theme of my Year 33. I started last April with a heart fully dedicated to being purposeful in the areas God had called me to serve, and I do believe I have done that. But in the midst of that passionate pursuit to be purposeful, He threw me a curveball. Several curveballs actually, and the first one was only a month after writing my Year 33 “historical account”.

After much prayer and consideration, I decided not to coach basketball this school year. Anyone who truly knows me, knows how hard of a decision that was to make, and how massive of a change that was in my life. Honestly? I struggled internally with that for months and barely spoke about it to anyone. I had peace about it when I made the decision, and I still have that peace today, but that change was so hard to process. Again, I don’t like change, especially not when I don’t see a good reason for the change, which was the case in this situation. I still do not have all the answers for this one, and that’s ok. God never promised to give us all the answers. Habakkuk is a great example of someone who never got the answers to the changes he saw, and “yet,…” (Habakkuk 3:18), he focused not on the changes, but on the God who allowed the changes. Later, Paul encourages us to “set our affection on things above” (Colossians 3:2). Or as Jesus tells Simon in the Chosen, “Just keep your eyes on Me.” I love basketball, and I love coaching, but the Lord needed to teach me some things off the court this year, and I am going to walk forward confidently in this change.

The second major change began just a few months after my decision to step away from coaching. I knew from before this school year ever started that I would have to make a decision about whether I believed the Lord still wanted me at WCA. This one is hard. Wilmington is my home. I have moved so many times in my life (the two mentioned at the beginning of this document was only the start!). God must have smiled on 13 year old Jessica crying about leaving Chesapeake, VA because He knew He’d be moving me ten more times…well, Eleven. For the past eight years, I have known beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Lord wanted me in North Carolina at Wilmington Christian Academy. But with just as much confidence, I now know, my time at WCA has come to an end. The opportunity to teach with my Dad and Mom up in Green Bay became available and I know the Lord is calling me to take that opportunity. The Lord is moving me…again. Processing this change has been tough. There’s a lot of feelings that have been rising to the surface as the school year has progressed that I do not like (for example, the tears running down onto my t-shirt as I write this). And yet, in the midst of my emotional processing, I have a peace “that passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). I honestly can’t fully explain how confident and peaceful I feel about this decision, but it’s there. Please do not miss the irony of this situation, because it certainly has not been lost on me! Thirteen years ago, I was ANGRY at the Lord because He called my family away from Wilmington to go to Green Bay. We had only been in Wilmington for eight years, and I felt like I had been there my whole life. Wilmington WAS my life. Eight years ago, God brought me back to Wilmington as a teacher, and it has been wonderful. This was my “dream job” back in high school. I am so grateful for the time God allowed me to minister at WCA. But back to the irony… Now I have also made the decision to move away from Wilmington, my home- to the SAME place God took me kicking and screaming thirteen years ago. Again, the Lord must have smiled down on 21 year old Jessica knowing full well that the next time He asked this change of me, I’d respond differently. Wilmington will always be my home, but it’s time for the Lord to use me in a new ministry.

Just one year ago, I had several emphatic periods at the end of my purpose statements. I KNEW I was right where God wanted me to be. Little did I know those periods were actually supposed to be commas.

Modify. Replace. Fade. Update. Improve. Decrease. Alter. Develop. Transform. Revive. Correct. Shift. Amend. Vary. Fluctuate. Tweak. CHANGE. Everything changes.

I may not like change. I may not understand it. I may not be ready for it. But my God is unchanging and THAT is where I rest and find my peace in the midst of my questions and confusion and emotions. I was not prepared for either of these massive changes, but in closing, I want to challenge you with one more thought I have stolen from the Chosen and made my own. Matthew, the former tax collector turned disciple, tells a Roman officer that when he finds himself clouded with confusion, he stops and reminds himself, “I only have one thing to do today. Follow Him. Everything else seems to fall into place.”

This is the second year I have now written a “personal historical account”, reflection and purpose statement to guide my next year. Year 33 was my purposeful year. I am sitting here at the very beginning of Year 34, which I am now going to call my immutable year. It has been said that “there is nothing permanent in this world, except change.” Maybe that is true. But my goal this year is that I will continue to fix my eyes on the Old Rugged Cross as I seek to be faithful to the Immutable God who has given me the opportunity to serve Him. If I want to be like Jesus, that means, being immutable. Seasons, humans, technology, and culture changes, but my God remains the same- and asks the same of me. “Be ye steadfast, UNMOVEABLE, always abounding in the work of the Lord” (I Corinthians 15:58).

“I only have one thing to do today. Follow Him.”

Hello there sunshines, I am here with some great news you can naturally overcome depression and anxiety. The bible teaches us how to naturally balance the positive and negative emotions in our lives. It’s ok at the darkest moments In Our lives to go to the doctor and get the help needed at that moment, he made doctors for a reason. What’s not okay is to rely on that medication to fix al of your childhood and adult relationship traumas. God has walked me through deliverance and a Beautiful way to enjoy life, focus on self love and hear his voice and tune out the world. Here are some tips on how to live life to the best of your ability on a budget. First find a job that u enjoy not have to show up to everyday ,but want to show up to and take pride in your work daily. Second find an area where just u and God can bear each other’s voices. God showed me and my sister in Christ this past year so many ways to see and appreciate his beauty from door dashing, in multi states ,to visiting museums and botanical gardens, to Learning about plants animals and history and it was a great stress reliever. Everyday for the past year doordash paid for our museum trips ,air b and b , and food and gas as we traveled America. We stayed in the tri state area and everything was within four hours of home.Our daily budget for spending was 20.00 most of the time it ended up under that price range. The third thing God helped me with to not be stressed and depressed was laying all of life’s problems at his feet and he gives us rest as it states in scripture. Picture yourself with one carryon bag then another suitcase and before u know it your carrying the entire planes luggage. This analogy is our lives we tend to worry and fear and pickup baggage that doesn’t belong to us. Cast your cares upon him and he will give u rest Amen. The fourth way to get rid of anxiety and depression is by using sensory things from your environment. This consist of smelling hearing seeing tasting and touching. I find for me nature walks running waterfalls and rivers,coloring on sidewalks with chalk, photographing nature and just being youself in general, traveling to local places, interacting with animals both tame and wild, and social distancing when needed work best. When noises around us are loud and overbearing putting on headphones and listening to something encouraging helps. Get in the habit of finding the daily verse that speaks life and encouragement into your soul and live out your purpose, 💓 u are loved I pray this helps the mass numbers and you can get peace in your hearts and enjoy your life much love and light 🕯️

Dear Lord,

We’ve had a lot of talks lately. Some good, some not so good. I’ve prayed for a couple ambulances and high schoolers and the parents for the infants at my school.

I’ve prayed for less anger, more sleep, less anxiety about the world. For the United States, for Gaza, for Syria and Lebanon and Yemen and the Congo…

For guidance.

I’m not the best of Jews, I know that. I don’t eat kosher like I should, I often forget my nightly prayers, I work on the sabbath. I know I’m not the best.

I try. I fast and I repent and I want to learn more about you Lord. I feel like the older I get, that I feel closer to you. I pray to you in good and in bad times. Our relationship has its valleys and mountains but I know you better. You’ve always known me though.

There’s a lot of suffering in the world. Time is marching backwards underneath my feet and I feel like I cannot make the world stand still. Or continue the original path or rotation. I pray in the hopes that you will be able to guide the right people to the right paths soon. Existence is a form of resistance, right?

Poetry feels a lot like prayer. I take a pen to my carotid artery and bleed all over these little letters, in hopes that it will string together coherent words. Using a young language to spill these feelings that I’m not quite sure have names. I pour it all out, I step back, and realize the feeling is duller now that it’s no longer in me.

That’s what prayer feels like to me.

I don’t know why, Lord, you made me this way. I know there must be a reason, there’s always a reason but I cannot see it. And I want to see it. I know you don’t make mistakes but— why do I feel like I am one?

I don’t feel like a good sister, a good friend, a good daughter, a good lover. I feel like I’m selfish. Spoiled. I demand too much. Give too little. A hypocrite. A liar.

Sometimes I don’t feel human. I’m so angry sometimes, Lord, that I just want to scream!!

Sometimes I just wanna grab someone and slap the living shit out of them. I wanna make someone feel as horrible as I do. I want them to feel every punch, kick, stab, slice, grope and rape that I have experienced. Then I feel horrible for wishing this fate on a nonexistent person and I pray for forgiveness. I know it’s an intrusive thought, I know I’d never do such a thing. But it kills me when I think about it.

There are times that I wanna go into an empty field and just scream into it. Sob as hard as I want for as long as I want. No one to eavesdrop, no one to watch. Just lose it fully for once.

I need that.

I’ve prayed to you about some things that I didn’t mean. I prayed to die many times. I know you know I didn’t mean that, which is why I’m still here.

I’ve prayed why my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I know he does, I just wish I could feel it like I know it. He adores me. He loves me. I need a little help remembering that Lord. If you have the time to spare, I’d greatly appreciate that.

I think- I think I struggle to believe I can be loved. Years of hurt can do that to a person. I try so hard to make sure those I love never feel the way I felt. Unlovable. Broken. No longer human. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a relationship outside of my childhood best friends that made me feel like a person.

When my boyfriend and I started dating it felt like someone had reignited a previously stamped out candle. Now the wick is burning but there’s no wax to cling to. I am so fucking lonely G-d. If you ever have a spare moment, enter my dreams and remind me that I am not alone. Remind me of my partner, my brother, my friends. Remind me of the job I love, the life I’ve chosen, the skills I possess. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me, but I’d like to not be forgotten. Don’t forget to remember me in that whirlwind of human chaos you’ve come to know.

I know that I just have to grit and bear some of it like a big girl. I know that I have to fight. But I— I don’t have a lot of fight in me right now.

So Lord, if you could do this for me, I’d greatly appreciate it. If you could instill in me the need to fight, the need to claw my way out, I will claw my way out.

Amen,

Dear Me:

You’ve come so far, you’ve struggled hard,
Yet somehow you’ve gone nowhere.

You’ve been in love, you’ve been a friend,
But still can’t find someone who cares.

It’s not your fault, you’ve tried your best,
But just can’t help to feel ashamed.

You broke their trust, they broke your heart,
Still you are not the one to blame.

Your roads been rough, your feet are worn,
Yet you still walk through thick and thin.

You deserve a break, you deserve to live,
Stuck in the past is where you’ve been.

You do know better, you know right from wrong,
Yet you still make the same mistakes.

But you do you, you must go on,
It’s your strong will they cannot break.

You’re a good man, you’ve just made bad choices,
Don’t let them be what defines you.

You write these words, you know them well,
Don’t let bad vibes be the ones that find you.

Just be yourself, and love yourself,
Slowly one day things will get better.

You can do this it’s the choice you made,
When times get tough just read this letter.

For my husband, who left too soon. For me, who stayed.

We were building something real.
Something messy and beautiful and ours.
Three years of laughs,
Hard talks, late-night plans,
Tears and kisses and silly fights
That ended in bed or in smiles.

You were my safe place.
My soft landing.
My best friend and my storm.

We said forever in March.
Turned keys to our first home in May.
And in July—
You left me
With a silence so loud
It still rings in my bones.

I watched you go.
I screamed.
I begged.
I broke in ways I can’t explain—
Not even to myself.

You didn’t just die.
You tore the sky open,
And I’m still standing in the wreckage,
Barefoot, bleeding, trying to breathe.

People say “you’re so strong.”
No.
I’m not strong.
I’m shattered.
But I wake up anyway.
I make coffee.
I cry quietly in the shower.
I hold our memories like landmines—
Knowing any one of them can level me.

I loved you too much to be okay.
But I also love you enough
To keep going.

Even when it hurts.
Even when I hate you for leaving me.
Even when I ache for just one more touch,
One more laugh,
One more “I’m home.”

You were the love of my life.
The stepfather who adored our kids like they were your own.
The man who made ordinary things feel magical.
You were it for me.

And now I carry all of that
Inside a heart stitched with grief and fire.

I’m still here,
Still breathing,
Still holding the broken pieces
Of everything we were supposed to be.

And I will keep going—
Not because I’m strong,
But because love like ours
Deserves to survive
Even if one of us didn’t.

Your Word say in Ezekiel 11 verse 19 “I will give them a singleness of heart and put a new spirit in them I will take away their stony stubborn heart and give them a tender responsive heart”, (NIV)

I come now asking for an exchange.

Where there is anger,
Grant me Love.
Where I harbor resentment,
Teach me Forgiveness.
Where there is regret,
Show me Acceptance.
Where I hide my shame,
Give me Honor.
Where I buried my sorrows,
Bring forth Gladness.
Where I have pain
Restore me with Comfort.
When I crumble under doubt,
Rise me up into Assurance.
Where there is Chaos,
Bring my thoughts into Order.
Where there is confusion
Show me Clarity.
Where I may pass Judgement,
Open me up to Compassion.
Where I have pride,
Teach me humility.
Where there is fear,
Give me Faith.
Where there is rejection,
Grant me Detachment.
When I worry,
Give me Peace.
Where there is Long Suffering
Grant me Patience.
Where I lost pieces of myself along the way,
Grant me the Strength, Endurance, Grit, Perseverance and Wisdom to come back, Stronger, wiser, and more Victorious than Before.
Ase

This gig
This “being my best self” business,
This sunny day after the storm
Is pretty rough.
With wind blown trash from last week
(Or last decade) all over the soul
It is exhausting today, to
Focus on today’s business.

Some other day will be enchanting, Exhilarating,
I’ll be Wonder Woman
Or
Maybe I’ll be just enough, ok?
And putting one foot in front of another will come a little
Easier, next day
Even if Van Der Klok assesses the score and my kind intentions are a bit lopsided today, and my hair;
There will be
Another day
For me.

These conflicting emotions and thoughts always get the best of me and take control. Sinking their teeth into my brain, releasing their venom so it’s always on my mind. I want to just give up and stop trying to take back control. Just give in completely. Let it all go. I’m so tired of trying to hold on and it’s useless anyway. I may or may not have put up a good fight, but the war was fought and the battle is done. It has won. This is the time to surrender and admit defeat.

Prowriting aid style score: 100%

“Do you have any sage advice for me ” my friend asked after we discussed a beautiful solo act of spoken word combined with the playing of the Harp. The talented performer is a woman named Amanda Peckler. I thought about my friends question, taken aback with honor – and a bit of imposter syndrome.

My head spun with the amount of answers I could say; I gave so many answers to his one question, I could not even remember what I said.

“I envy your way of thinking,” he said.

“You admire it, not envy.”

After sincerely crediting my mentors for the ability to think the way I do, I explained:

“Most of the time, we can try what we envy:

Next time you envy someone for their talent, change it to admiration.

Inevitably you are going to struggle the first time; just remember:

Even the advanced were once beginners.

You’ve been my shadow for as long as I can remember, lurking in the corners of my mind, whispering doubt, exhaustion, and fear into every crevice of my soul. You’ve made yourself at home in my thoughts, convincing me that stillness is safety, that failure is inevitable, and that I am nothing without you.

But I see you now. I see how you twist my reflection, how you tangle my dreams in barbed wire, how you drag your fingers through my happiness just to watch it unravel. I hear the lies you tell me—that I’m not good enough, that I’ll never change, that I should just give up. And I won’t pretend your voice isn’t loud. It is. Some days, it’s all I hear.

But guess what? I’m still here. I’m still writing, still fighting, still daring to want more than the prison you’ve tried to build around me. You’ve stolen too many moments, too many dreams, too many days where I could have felt joy but instead felt only your weight pressing down on my chest.

So, I’m making something clear today: You don’t get to win.

I won’t say you’re gone, because I know you’re always lurking. But I will say this—I am learning to live around you, despite you, and in defiance of you. Every time I write, every time I create, every time I move forward even when you’re clawing at my ankles, I am reclaiming myself.

You are not me. You are something I carry, something I battle, but you do not define me.

I do.

And I choose to keep going.

Sincerely,

Me