Dear Unsealed Community,

When I was 19 years old, I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to chase my dream as a sportscaster. In pursuit of that dream,  I started working at the NBA. I commuted two hours from Columbia University to New Jersey, three days a week, because I was committed. I wanted to network with people who worked in sports. I wanted to hone my writing skills and learn more about the broadcasting industry. This job was supposed to be the first step to the rest of my life. But it nearly took me off course, and everyone, except me, thought I should be thrilled.

While working at the NBA, I met someone. He was my co-worker. We had the same schedule – or so I thought. I found out later that he was coming to work when he wasn’t scheduled to spend more time with me. We got along so well. We could talk for hours and hours about anything and everything. Soon after meeting, we started dating, and our relationship escalated quickly. Within a year, he left the NBA and began working in finance. We moved in together in an apartment in New York City and got engaged. I was only 21 years old – still a senior in college. He treated me well. We had no drama – no lying, no cheating, no bullshit—just two young people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

He checked every box.

My parents were happy. My friends thought I was so lucky. And in society’s eyes, my life was going very well.

The only problem was that I was miserable. I was not ready to be someone’s wife. I didn’t want to sacrifice opportunities for my career for a relationship. My ring felt like a handcuff, chaining me to a life I didn’t yet want.

I stayed in the relationship for four years because, logically, we made sense. According to society, this relationship is what I should want. But I was so unhappy which led me to question myself more times than I could count.

“Why don’t I want this relationship?”

“How come I am not on cloud nine?”

“Isn’t this is what I should want?”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

Ultimately, it took every ounce of strength I had to end the relationship. It was one the most difficult decisions I have ever made, as I had to hurt someone I loved – someone who never would have hurt me.

However, I knew, long term, it wasn’t fair to either one of us if I stayed in a relationship that I didn’t genuinely want. In the days, weeks and months following our breakup, I felt a sense of relief and freedom. I pursued my career, moved out of New York, and I have since chased every single dream or goal I’ve ever had.

To this day, people still think I was crazy to end the relationship – especially since I am now 36 and single. But I have never had any regrets.

Looking back, I learned that sometimes we doubt ourselves when our desires differ from the expectations the world sets for us. But deep down, each of us know what we want, and all we need is the courage to pursue it relentlessly.

Be who you are – not who others expect you to be.

Dear Mom,

You once told me that you don’t worry about me because you know no matter what, I will always be OK. You said to me that throughout my life, whatever challenges I faced, I somehow always managed to persevere. You told me you know me better than anyone else. After all, you’re not only my mother but also my best friend.

You know everything about me.

Mom, through all my life’s challenges, you have been by my side.

When my fourth-grade crush pretended to throw up when he found out I liked him, you told me, “Don’t worry, you’re beautiful, and there will be plenty of boys that will like you.”

When my first love broke my heart, “You told me to let it go – not to give him the power to make me sad or ruin my day.

When I did poorly on a test in school, you would spend hours studying with me.

When my boyfriend died, “You cried with me at the funeral.”

When I started The Unsealed, “You told me to go for it.”

And each day, when I share my fears and worries as an entrepreneur, you tell me to keep going. You tell me you believe in me. You give me ideas, and you help me to keep pushing.

Mom, you have seen me bounce back from a broken heart, disappointment in my career, and loss. And while, yes, I have always been OK, I believe it is because I have always had you.

I love you so much. Your support, love, and constant presence are the secret to my strength.

Thank you,

To The Unsealed Community,

When I graduated high school, I honestly didn’t know what to expect from myself.

After getting waitlisted, I got accepted to Columbia in mid-June of my senior year of high school. At the time, Columbia ranked top five in the nation. And while I was thrilled to be accepted, there was a part of me that was unsure if I was worthy of the admission.

I told my family I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t smart enough to go, and I was considering going elsewhere.

My brother, who had just graduated from Columbia, responded, “If you don’t take this opportunity, you will regret it for the rest of your life. I promise you will be able to do the work.”

I trusted my brother and decided to attend, even though I was scared and uncertain if I would measure up to my peers.

My first year at Columbia was by far the hardest. My grades depended on papers, and I wasn’t the best writer. Not to mention, we had to take many required classes – some of which I found pretty boring. But I muscled through it, and I was determined to thrive.

Thankfully, Columbia had a writing center where tutors looked through your paper sentence by sentence and provided feedback. I spent hours each week at the writing center, and after a year or so, my writing significantly improved. So much so that in the last two years of college, I received an A on every single paper I submitted.

It’s hard to believe that I almost passed down an incredible opportunity because I didn’t believe in myself.

Now, whatever challenge I face in life, I still don’t know what to expect from myself. But my experience at Columbia taught me that if I push myself and work hard, I should always expect to surprise myself.

We are all capable of way more than we even know.

Always believe in your greatness,

To The Unsealed Community,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To The Unsealed Community,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Mom and Dad,

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Love you both.

P.S. I owe you some gas money

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With love, hope, and faith,

Dear Professor Abzug,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you!

Dear Anxiety,

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Unsealers,

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

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

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

With love and hope,

Dear Unsealers

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

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

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

Share your truth and change the world.

@abbiegwrites @alexandraparry @dsenlightenededits @falkytvgmail-com @gabriellebeth @lostone89 @delanomassey @jthomasdryandbarren-com @rkartikalestari @ashley_topham @brilee258 @braveheart @kayjahlorde @okiwa002 @amazz94 @jcbcle77 @corriefergusonbooks @jim-c @zaysmith1

All the best,

Dear Sean,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With love and lots of hugs,
Lauren

P.S. I heart you.

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

—
@delanomassey @shelleybrill @kayjahlorde @mehraslam @amazz94 @abbiegwrites @bigstudbundy @lostone89 @willardogan @wilparker1 @andbrill @zaysmith1 @gabriellebeth @ashley_topham @asyk @hue-jackson @dsenlightenededits @jerricaconley @jsimon @johncarubbagmail-com @qcurtis @redskinsjjv84 @okiwa002 @vbrooks884 @oneturbobenz @writingsfromthegarden @jcbcle77 @yourbabydaddy @zuckerman @corriefergusonbooks

Hey Guys!

I decided to introduce pen pals in groups of four. You can also add and write to anyone in the community, but this just breaks the ice a bit.

So @johncarubbagmail-com @zaysmith1 @polok12 @prelude2cinema7 all say hello.

To break the ice, share with each other the best compliment you have ever received. One of my personal favorites was from a friend from Buffalo. She had a lot of issues with the guy she was dating at the time. And when I was leaving she wrote me a card. In it she said, “Whenever I have to make a strong decision in life, I think of you.”

I was so touched. Another favorite came from a man who was blind. He said, “Everyone keeps telling me that it’s too bad I can’t see because you are really beautiful. But I don’t need vision to see that you are beautiful.”

He was saying I was beautiful person.

I can’t wait to hear your stories!

You guys can start a new letter/new thread in this group or any other group. You can post your letters on your social media and decide whether you want the letters to be public for the world or private for The Unsealed community.

Thank you for being a part of the family, and I hope you guys enjoy writing to each other. If you have any questions, I am always here to help.

I love you all,

Hey Guys!

I decided to introduce pen pals in groups of four. You can also add and write to anyone in the community, but this just breaks the ice a bit.

So @sarita @lisaferreri21 @vcalero @jfritz all say hello. You are all strong and courageous people with stories to tell.

To break the ice, share with each other something that made you proud during the pandemic. Maybe you learned something new. Maybe you realized you were stronger than you thought. Perhaps you opened yourself up to making new virtual friends or maybe you started a business.

When the pandemic hit, I thought The Unsealed would unravel. I thought no one would sign up, and I wouldn’t be able to afford to keep going. While I was scared, I decided to step on the gas, even more, using the extra time at home to work harder and reach out to people one by one.

During the pandemic, I built enough of a foundation to get it to where it is today (which is still in its infancy, but it is a start). I am really proud I didn’t give up. I am really proud I pushed myself. I am really proud that I fought as hard as I could when facing fear, and I was blessed with all of your support.

You guys can start a new letter/new thread in this group or any other group. You can post your letters on your social media and decide whether you want the letters to be public for the world or private for The Unsealed community.

I can’t wait to read your letters and why you are proud.

Thank you for being a part of the family, and I hope you guys enjoy writing to each other. If you have any questions, I am always here to help.

I love you all,

Dear Ashley @ashley_topham,

I read your story about the rainbow and your father. It is such a beautiful memory. Sometimes, I think the universe implants these memories in us so when are loved ones leave us, they have ways they can send us little reminders that they are still with us.

My grandfather always said that rain was good luck. Since I was little girl, I was very athletic and I wanted to be a sportscaster. My grandfather was the only other athletic one in our family, so we both knew I had his genes, which gave us this special connection. I used to wear his the number 15 in sports because his birth was August 15th.

Unfortunately, he died when I was 13. When I was 25, I was up for my dream job, a sportscaster in Buffalo, NY. When I went up for my interview, the new director gave me a lot of constructive criticism. I didn’t think I got the job. After two weeks of waiting to hear back, I got on call on August 15th – my grandfather’s birthday. It was from the News Director in Buffalo. I was at the dentist, but I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to get rejected on my grandfather’s birthday. That day was sacred to me. But the news director left a message and said it was important that I call back ASAP. So, I didn’t want to be unprofessional.

I called and he said, “Sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. I had to explain to corporate why I wanted to offer you the job. You aren’t as experienced as our other candidates, but I told them someone like you is not going to come across my desk twice.”

I tried to so hard to hold back my tears. But after I got off the phone, I walked outside of the building to head home and it was pouring out. As soon as I saw the ran, I burst into tears. My dream came true on the day of my grandfather’s birthday in the pouring. I knew he was watching over me.

Just curious, have you ever seen a rainbow and thought it was your dad letting you know he is by your side?

Dear @telina27 and @amazz94,

I want to officially introduce you two as pen pals! Both of you are such kind people with creative minds. Telina, Alex is artists. Alex, Telina is a writer. You both have had loss in your life but also have experienced a lot of love from your families.

I thought I would start you off with an icebreaker question. You guys also don’t have to reply to this thread. You can start your own.

But the icebreaker is, what is the best compliment you’ve ever received. I have two. In high school, I didn’t get into honors English. My guidance counselor advocated for me.

He said, “If you give her a challenge, she won’t only meet it, she will far exceed it.”

I got into honors English that year and also got an A in the class. I wanted to prove my guidance counselor right.

In my 20’s I also had a friend tell me, “When I need to make a strong decision I think of you.”

I didn’t know she perceived me that way. I was so touched.

Anyways, feel free to start a new letter in any of the groups/topics and start writing to each other.

Be kind. Be supportive. Be honest and have fun! Let me know if you have any questions.

xo