Dear Unsealers,
Life has its twists turns and everything in between, I know you do not know me or my story, but I sure hope that this helps in any way possible.
I hope this answers the question,
What is a time in your life where you thought about quitting something you love, but instead preserved.
I was 13 years old when I found my love for writing, I would write for hours, trying to get out of my head a little creating versions of me that do not exist. I wanted to gain my fathers reactions from these poems. I would bother my teachers, family members, even my neighbors to read what I wrote. I felt accomplished to find that the ones who read them actually enjoyed them.
At the same time, I got the feedback that changed my outlook on everything, that being what caused me to throw away everything I ever wrote. The comment was, “you cannot write unless it’s happy things.”
This haunts me the most, because I was not the happiest, but at the same time I knew it was what the family member thought was helpful for me. Within a month, I had secret notebooks filled with variations of multiple versions of me and what I felt and went through as a teenager who was bullied a lot by my peers. Hiding my notebooks, actually went on until I was 16 years old, at that time I decided to start writing a romance novel.
I would continuously be grounded for various reasons, but I was able to write my novel until I was 18 years old in which I finished at chapter 20, and I put writing on hold to take care of my first born child. I eventually started to dabble into online writing contests, and poundered about writing another novel.
I say all of this, to give you this wisdom. Don’t let one person’s opinion dictate your goals and ambition, one day you will look up and say wow, I feel accomplished and it’s because I believed in myself, and not the changing world around me.

Stand at attention with a smile on your face.
You dare not make your family fall from grace.
Black and excellence rarely mix.
But in this society, we all need our fix.
A hint of praise and worship you see.
The version that is anything but you and me.
Giggle, smile, and give them a twirl.
But, please bury your trauma, little black girl.

Commit yourself to being the best.
You must not associate yourself with the rest.
Iron your clothes and be so sweet.
But, hush while they take a bite of your forbidden treat.
Marry young and honor your vow.
But, when he attacks you don’t dare say ow.
Always be approachable and serene.
Otherwise, this world will think you’re mean.
Build your story on amazing goals.
Just remember not to climb too far out of your hole.
There is no space for beauty and grace.
They are all watching and waiting for you to fall on your face.
Parade yourself and give them a whirl.
But, please bury your trauma, little black girl.

Pretend like “strong” is a compliment you wish to hear.
The kind of credit you can hold dear.
Put your hands out and stay on guard
You can’t let your loved ones know this life is too hard.
Encourage the next generation to reach for the sky.
Never let them know how much you wanted to die.
Hide the thoughts that make you hurl.
Remember to bury your trauma, little black girl.

No! Wait! Please don’t go.
There’s a little more you MUST know.
You don’t need to pretend to fit in.
You are enough from your beginning until your end.
The pain is sharp and unkind.
But, your heart is a compliment of your mind.
When you look in the mirror remember your name.
Because little black girl you and I are the same.
Don’t bury your trauma and let them win.
No one is above their sin.

You meet the one that makes you better.
The one that spends time writing YOU a letter.
You have not one, but three little ones you adore.
That sweet soul is now nurturing more.
In many ways, you go on to lead.
Trust me, I got to see you succeed.
You persevered through it all.
So, in this next chapter let’s have a ball.

I love you, I do.
You will prosper, this much is true.
Because I am you and you are me.
Together, we are finally free!

Dear Unsealers,

Although we may not know each other, we both may know the familiar sting of disappointment, fear, and uncertainty. I want to share a story of a time when I gave up on something that I cherished. The good news is that only lasted a few months and now I have vowed to keep on my journey until I get to my goal.

Last year (and the first half of 2024) was one of the hardest periods in my life. I wasn’t satisfied with my “good job”, hated my apartment, didn’t have time to do the things I loved, walked on eggshells in my three-year relationship, felt unappreciated by friends/family, and didn’t find joy in life. I wondered when my life would reach where I wanted it to be; I felt like I was doing what everyone else expected of me. 2023 marked ten years since I began writing my first novel; that meant a decade went by and I was still left with an unfinished manuscript. I felt like a failure and accepted that maybe writing wasn’t my calling. This wasn’t easy to come to terms with. I felt like I was losing my identity just trying to survive. The pressure and self-doubt caused me to spiral. My depression left me in an unimaginative mindset which took away my motivation to write. When I tried to write I would often come up short. The thing I cared about most was now another chore.
An unexpected breakup, on the day after Valentine’s Day, reminded me of the reasons I started writing in the first place. Writing is a problem-solving mechanism, a safe space to communicate the things I was too scared to say, and a way to transform my hurt into something beautiful. As an overly loyal, people-pleaser who just wanted love, I was crushed in that moment but as a writer, I couldn’t help but appreciate a crazy plot twist. All those negative things that made me feel unlucky turned out to be a blessing. Strangely the pain helped me get through my case of writer’s block and got me back on track! With that mental clarity, I was also reminded of the little girl caught in an ongoing socio-economic tornado who dreamed of the life I currently have with an income that is enough to cover the bills, enough food for three meals a day with the option of snacks, and electricity/hot water all year around. She fell in love with books and started writing poems because words were able to take her to as many places as she wanted without leaving her bedroom. Her literary skills made her feel in control even when a situation left her powerless because she knew she could come up with a solution to any problem. Reading kept hope in her heart and taught her patience.

My younger self inspires me to continue to hope for better days. I mean it worked once, so it can probably happen again. I will continue sharing my poetry with the world and working towards my goals with or without validation. Just a year ago I wouldn’t be able to write a letter like this nor have the confidence to enter a contest. I am grateful for my progress and welcome the journey with open arms. Life is like a good book in a way; you never know how the story ends until you finish the book. Although that doesn’t guarantee a happy ending, it doesn’t rule one out either. This is a sign to finish your story (life) and read (live) on to see what the next chapter brings.

Compared my success to others which is self-destructive,
My accomplishments felt like I did a whole bunch of nothing,
Could barely function, tried my hardest to discuss it,
The words wouldn’t flow, out my mouth nor on paper,
The fire that kept my engine burning is on vacation,
Realized I was falling apart, I just needed a break and,
Without any notice, she was back better than imagined,
After all, hope was stored inside of me like an emergency fund under the mattress.

Dear Young Friend,

For the longest time, whether I was at school or home, I felt like a big dummy. I blamed myself for not being as smart as everyone else. Learning came especially hard for me. I could easily get an A for effort, but I had a difficult time grasping even the simplest concepts. Taking a test was my greatest fear. But I found that the best way for me to feel less frustrated with the struggles I had in school was by putting my thoughts down on paper.

As a sophomore in high school, I still vividly recall one painful experience. My history teacher left the room for only a few minutes when one of my peers grabbed a letter I was writing to a long-distance boyfriend. She stood up smirking from ear to ear and started reading it aloud to everyone as I pleaded for her to please stop. A girl sitting behind me, a classmate that I had never even taken the time to know, finally spoke up and stated firmly, “That’s not nice; give it back to her.”

It wasn’t a mushy love letter but was rather like revealing the vulnerable words of a teenager’s locked diary. At first, I tried to suck in my feelings of humiliation until my classmates started laughing uncontrollably. Their laughing at me just made me feel dumber. Then totally out of character, I just got up and walked out of class.

Feeling like I had nowhere to hide from my embarrassment, I made my way timidly to the counseling office. Wiping away my tears and between sniffles, I asked the secretary if I could talk with my school guidance counselor. I thought I was in big trouble and knew my parents would never understand.

It’s what my high school counselor did not say that afternoon in his office that gave me so much respect for him. As I told him about being humiliated and walking out of class, he listened wholeheartedly without passing judgment. In a soft-spoken voice, he pointed out that I was being too hard on myself. I believed everything which had happened in the classroom was all my fault. My counselor didn’t force me to return to my history class that day, nor were my parents notified of their teenage daughter falling short of perfection.

From this role model, I learned that no matter how difficult a predicament seems at the time, we must not be afraid to hold our heads up high.

Over the years, I’ve been in contact with many young people and love rooting for each of their life journeys. Sadly, I know my “complicated” childhood is not much different than your lives are today. Some of you are struggling with the same tough issues I did while growing up. In our family, we weren’t allowed to talk about our deepest feelings that come from the consequences of adoption, alcoholism, divorce, and serious mental health issues.

I encourage you to find your inner strength through journaling, drawing, or other productive ways. From my own experiences, I believe creatively expressing yourself can greatly help the learning process. The valuable lesson that I learned from not being the smartest student academically is to feel good about who we are as individuals. That should have much more significance than achieving straight A’s. It’s not what we are taught in the classroom that stays with us forever.

My young friend, I cannot stress enough the importance of mentors who take the time to listen to your feelings, without prying. What I learned from falling short of perfection back as a sophomore in high school is to be able to find positive, encouraging adults to talk to, feel safe with, and not judged. Although it was a long time ago, my school guidance counselor made a difference in my life. At the time, he believed in me more than I did myself. He helped me to understand what it feels like to be valued in this world, the same thing I hope this letter of caring and encouragement does for you, as well.

Sincerely,

JoAnne Bennett

Dear Unsealers, my childhood, through to my 20s, has been one of the most horrifying experiences that no child or person should ever have to go through. By the hands of evil, I was abused mentally, emotionally, and sexually with no one to protect me. Even growing up to this day can be a struggle but I have to win this battle. In some stages of my life, I rebelled with anger, in some stages, I resorted to drugs and alcohol, and at one point I was a guinea pig for Drs “trying to correct” me. I can’t recall how many times I wanted to give up. Eventually, I stopped allowing the evil to continue controlling me and winning. I stopped feeding it and took control of myself and my life. Now I am happy, healthy, and secure; even though I still have some struggles. Through all of this I have always written poetry or wrote self expressively; it helps me survive and I hope it helps others know they are normal – they are their normal and that we are in this together- nobody has to be alone or scared. Below are 2 poems I wrote in defense of my traumas.
Poem/Urges: Urges, they surge through me like an electric wire. There’s no telling their destination. The outcome is unclear. The rapid urge for incomprehensible actions to take place. Urges, cradling inside my veins, grinding away at all of my pains. Pushing against my skin, craving inside to come out from within. Starving to reach its mission. Urges, trying so hard to take control but long behold, I’m well aware of its grip, my blood will not drip. The urges cannot maintain power when there’s a greater urge to empower a greater good. (not a fan of how I ended that one). Poem: Please demon, don’t try and hide. I see right through you even with that disguise. Your horns are big, your red blood flows bright, and I see you even when you try to hide in the night. Your growls once frightened me but now they just remind me, that I am stronger than you could ever be.

***Trigger warning***
I have thought long and hard about this entry, the words that are going to follow, will likely be a trigger for so many, but it is my hope that maybe, I can help another feel less alone. I want to let you know, that I’ve likely been right where you are. I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to feel like everything is caving in. That life sucks, and that we got the shortest straw. It’s at that point, we know we are human beings. Living life. We just have to feel it all! Then, when we feel it’s time, push through it. Try not to get stuck in the pain and the darkness. Time is different for so many of us.
My life has been far from easy. I’m guessing yours may not have been either. So we are meeting on common ground. I wanted to give up on everything so many times. My very first memory ever was when I was around 2. It was traumatic. Growing up I didn’t fit in with the others. I was bullied. I had a very emotionally immature mother, and my father, well, he was gone without a forwarding address when they divorced.
I was the odd girl being raised by her grandparents. I was automatically labeled “different” and not cool.
I kept going. It was so hard. In 4th grade, the bullying really took its toll on me when a fellow student put a kick me sign on my back and my art teacher saw it. She pulled me aside and took me into the hall. I thought I was going to be in trouble because no one wanted to be in a group with me. Her words changed my life. She told me that I was smart and talented. She told me to leave the kick me sign on my back and to go back in the classroom acting as if I didn’t know anything had happened. I wanted to cry so badly. My heart was crushed. It was hard, but I did it. I kept moving forward.
In my elementary years, I felt so lost. Absolutely lost inside. Moving on to middle school, the bullying continued. My self esteem was at an all time low. I started to ditch classes and eventually, I constantly messed up all through 7th grade. I didn’t think that I had a chance at anything. At this point, I had some family issues arise and the pressure took its toll on me. I experienced physical abuse from someone in my family due to alcohol abuse they had become a stranger in my eyes. Unrecognizable and terrifying. With each time that I was hit a piece of me shut down. No one was listening to me. It was me, against the world. I was put in a private school for “troubled teens” There were not many girls there but I became friends with a girl that was adopted.
I opened up to her about feeling fat and un pretty. One day at her home, she gave my my very first diet pill. This resulted in an eating disorder, I will just check that box too. So we now have on the board, traumatic childhood- jumping into Child abuse, leading to full blown self hatred and a very devastating case of both anorexia and boulima. I had absolutely no clue that I was spiraling downward in a very dangerous way. I couldn’t feel anything. I wanted to feel something. I just couldn’t. I was absolutely NUMB. You might be wondering why I’m putting this out there for the world to see. It’s my hope, that you will see that you are not alone. That you are strong and you will pull through the storms. My story didn’t end there. As numb as I was, I kept moving forward. I had no direction but I knew that it had to get better at sometime. Fast forward to 15, I was thrown back with my mother. Within the first month of living with my mother, Plot twist from absolute HELL-
I was beaten in the school parking lot with leather belts by a group of boys while everyone watched and laughed. This was typical for a Denver high school in the 90’s. “There was no room for stuck up little white girl in their hood” This was what they told me as they continued to whip me with braided belts. This was an assault. The school let it go. I became a shell. I don’t remember too much other than my mother blaming me for the events that transpired shortly after this. I was sexually assaulted by one of the boys in that group. I woke up in a hospital emergency room covered in charcoal with only a blur of the hospital lights above my head. At that point, all I wanted to was die. I didn’t think that I had anything left. The police had taken a report and my mother refused to press charges on grounds that she feared more gang retaliation would follow. I was placed in a group home- Day treatment facility to address the issues. That treatment facility saved my life. For the very first time I was taken seriously. I was not called a liar. I was supported and safe. I had made it to safety.
It was a lot of work on my part. I still had a many issues with my mother.
Everything was always about her. I’m wrapping this up ending in a teen pregnancy. The teen pregnancy allowed me to imancipate from my mother at age 16. I want you to believe that you can break your family generational curses/cycles and life may be hard but I can promise you there is a light. The fight and the struggle are very important. They make us who we are.
I believe in you. In fact, a whole lot of us Unsealers do. You are amazing. You are smart, you are strong, you have a bright future ahead. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You will change the world. I will be over here, a stranger, in the stands rooting for you. 💜 Just believe in every aspect of YOU. You will pull through. You are not alone and you are already doing such great things. Most importantly, thank you for being you.

Growing up, I had to tell myself during my teenage years and as an adult, that I was enough!
I remember back then when my self-esteem was determined by what others thought about me, the choices I made and if I was good enough for them instead of for myself. I remember wanting to be like my mother and my brothers. They all attended a school of higher learning. I recall going to my mothers’ graduation as a young teenage girl. She was a divorced mother of five children. She beat the odds and became a woman with a two-year associate degree in social work. Both of my siblings seemed to do everything right. Unlike them, I seemed to struggle with learning. I always had to double study for everything. My family seemed so perfect that I put myself down. Then, after high school, I ventured out to become a college student myself. It was not easy. I had no money. I got loans and Pell grants. I had to work and study. I often had to study all night, in libraries, my dorm room to pass a test. I finally got to be like my family, I thought! Extremely optimistic and then I became very unsure. I wondered was it just as hard for my family too? At college, I found myself very alone and missing my mother and the crisp scent of blankets of home. Instead, I was in a dorm with crickets and the smell of mold. Don’t get it wrong, I liked college life, it just became too much for me all alone. I eventually moved back to my home. Now, my education was in jeopardy. My expectations for myself seemed doomed. But the story did not stop there. I remembered I had a dream.
I met a man along the way, and we decided to marry. With two children and a third on the way, I remembered I did not finish what I had started. This time I had to juggle my family. I eventually would go back to college. I completed the course work for an associate degree just like my mother! After which I started to substitute in schools. I went on to complete my bachelor’s degree in business education. As my children grew older, I needed a flexible job. I read about a program that could help me become a teacher and receive a master’s degree. I said to myself, as I had lacked confidence along the way all along, because learning was hard for me especially with juggling kids now. Well, this program worked! I graduated with a master’s degree and became a teacher. I often doubted the process. I doubted my dream, but I say this to let you know, life will not always be easy. You may have goals in your life or future that you may wish to dream of. Well, today that dream can become a reality. With hard work and dedication, asking for guidance, and receiving help along the way, you too can benefit in the end.
You got this! Keep your head held up high, stay strong, try to ignore the negative thoughts, and persevere! Self-talk positively to yourself, positive affirmations to yourself! You can do it! Make good choices, try hard and do not quit, dream big and apply yourself. With the pressures of today for example: peer pressure, body image, family, friends, belonging, exposure to drugs, relationships, social media school concerns, and money struggles just keep trying. These are all real concerns that are staring you in the face, do not ignore it, seek help, and remember your dream! You are allowed to dream but think about making it happen! Had I not remembered my dream and I looked back to see what others in my family succeeded in doing and not myself, I would not be a teacher today. Self-doubt is real, peer pressure is real. I too had to fight. I cried to sleep. I had negative thoughts, telling myself during the process, “You cannot do this, you are a low-income family, you have children, just quit and go on.” But then, my inner strength kicked in and it told myself “Hey! You can do this!” Tell your beautiful self the same thing. I can work hard and never stop! I am not going to give up until my dream becomes a reality. Life is hard, but somebody must do it! Why not you! You too can make it! Decide what it is you want, go for it, take a chance, and do not stop!
You got this! You are enough!
By, Angela Pinkins

In the tempest of my mind’s fierce gale,
Where shadows loomed and doubts assailed,
I walked a path, oft deemed too frail,
By voices harsh, where hope had paled.

They spoke in tongues of bleak defeat,
In classrooms cold, their words did chime,
“You’ll mount to naught,” their chorus bleak,
But still, I climbed beyond their rhyme.

With every whisper, sharp as thorns,
That I’m the storm, the child awry,
I bore the brunt of scornful scorns,
Yet never let my dreams go by.

Bipolar’s swing, depression’s night,
The borderline’s uncertain dance,
Schizophrenic shadows, lacking light,
Each battle joined, I did advance.

They could not see the strength within,
The silent wars I fought unseen,
Against the tempest, fierce and grim,
I rose above what might have been.

And now, behold this cap and gown,
The first in line, my family’s pride,
A bachelors’ earned, my scepter and crown,
In knowledge’s light, I now abide.

So let them gaze with widened eyes,
At who I’ve become, against all odds,
A testament to the unyielding skies,
That bend and break at the hands of gods.

The problem child, the one “so different,”
Has sculpted triumph from the pain,
With every step, more proficient,
In spite of rain, I’ve grown through rain.

Now let the past’s cruel judgments rest,
For I’m still standing, tall and true,
A life reclaimed, a heart unbowed,
A brilliant light, forever new.

The whispers fade, the voices dim,
No longer shall their echoes chide,
For I am more than they foresaw,
A phoenix rising, in full stride.