Dear Holly and Teddy,

Monkey and bear… Monkey and bear…

An unlikely pairing, yet a match made in heaven.

Holly, you are the monkey I have had since my sixth birthday. One would think you are an ape–you look like a chimpanzee–but you have a little stub of a tail. That makes you a monkey.

I begged my parents to get you for me when I saw you at Disneyland. Ever since then, you and I have been inseparable.

You used to squeak, but I loved you so much I broke your squeaker and now you talk with the words I put in your mouth.

You lost your pretty pink dress many years ago and I replaced it with my favorite panda t-shirt I wore when I was four.

One ratty pink bow remains above your left ear. I pierced your ears when I was a teenager and then took your earrings out shortly before my adulthood.

Teddy Eddy, you are the bear my grandparents gifted my mom for Christmas when she was 16 years old. You came from Weinstock’s, the department store relic of yesteryear.

Teddy, you are 14 years older than Holly, yet you became besotted with her when I was 14 years old.

You wanted to marry her and spend the rest of your life with her when she was only eight years old.

Apparently, age doesn’t matter to stuffed animals. You are both perpetually five years old. You both wanted to get playground-married, in front of all of your stuffie friends.

And me, of course.

I decided that marriage was too huge a commitment for inanimate objects, occasionally come alive.

You wanted to live with Holly under the deck outside the house and build your own little home together.

I told you no, there were too many cobwebs and possums that would claim you as their own.

You and Holly remain devoted to each other to this day. Who needs marriage when you have a solid lifelong commitment?

Both of you were devastated when I lived on my own for 11 years. I took Holly with me, and Teddy, you needed to stay with my mom.

After all, I borrowed you for many years. Mom wanted you back. And I couldn’t be without my Holly, even as an adulty-adult.

Your little Teddy Bear heart filled with ecstasy when I moved back in with my mom five years ago and brought Holly with me.

I have been without the human love of my life for years, and probably will be without her for the rest of my life.

But you, my true loves, will be with me for as long as I shall live, through thick and thin, fires and floods–nothing will come between us.

I love you, Holly and Teddy. My monkey and bear, in love for life.

(100% Style Score)

Dear Unsealers,

Whenever I am in the psych hospital, the nurses and psychiatrist want me to find a reason to live so I do not keep ending up there.

For many years, my tortoiseshell cat Hershey’s Kisses was my reason to live.

She adored me and would have been devastated if I had died before she did.

Finally, in October 2024, my reason for living died.

I had to put Hershey to sleep because her health declined exponentially, and living was no longer an option for her.

Now I was the one who was devastated. I had no reason for living. What do I do now?

Then, it came to me. I had spent my entire life living for others, helping others, pleasing others.

I had neglected my own happiness, my own well-being, for my entire life.

Sure, I went to therapy and took medication. Yet I still felt hollow.

I was an empty pot. I needed to fill myself with dirt, water, and a thriving plant.

The dirt would be my foundation for living. I needed plenty of nutrients.

I am learning how to treat my body like a temple, feeding myself nutrient-dense foods, and making intentional movements.

Meditating and self-reflecting.

Rest and relaxation.

The water would be the love I shower myself with. How do I show myself love?

I shall develop hobbies I perform only for myself. Take plenty of time for myself.

I have plenty of activities I plan to occupy myself with.

Making sticker collages.

Coloring in coloring books.

Writing letters and poetry to develop my preferred craft.
Reading enjoyable literature. My plan this year is to read at least one book a month. After all, the best writers also read voraciously.

There are fun activities I plan on learning how to do in 2025.

Writing shorthand so I can write as fast as I think. My mind races fast and it is impossible to catch up in longhand and speech.

Putting on makeup, not to look good for others, but to fill up with beauty the blank canvas that is my face, to visually please myself.

Colored pencil drawing, because I want my fifth-grade art teacher who criticized my self-portrait to eat her heart out.

Playing guitar and writing songs because I need to release the soul in my heart from time to time.

2025 will be the flourishing plant that springs from the pot I have lovingly curated for myself.

2025 will be the year I finally live for myself.

Dear Unsealers,

My 2024 was a whirlwind of life events.

Losing friends, though keeping a few close.

Turning 40 years old while at the psych hospital.

Losing my favorite cat – my reason for living.

Getting denied for long-term disability pay a second time.

Continuously struggling to survive.

Finding a new reason to live.

It is so easy to lose sight of the good things in my life.

There is, however, one process I began this year that overshadowed this seemingly never-ending shitstorm –

Changing my identity.

I realized that I am nonbinary in 2022.

I discovered a new name for myself – Blue Sky – in 2023.

I started stepping into that identity in 2024.

I got a new haircut.

Adopted a new aesthetic.

Became more true to myself.

In August, I petitioned the Superior Court of California to have my name and gender identifier changed.

In November, I legally became Blue N Sky and nonbinary.

I get to change my birth certificate.

And now I realize that I have always been Blue Sky.

My parents gave me my previous name.

Society gave me my previous identity.

I broke out of societal expectations of me.

I feel more authentic.

Living closer to my values.

Blue Sky is a beautiful extension of my creativity.

Blue Sky is a reminder that no matter how stormy my life gets –

Blue skies are always on the horizon.

And now I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Still far away.

But the glimmer is blue.

The glimmer is me.

Dear Blue,

I feel grateful that I am not in an attitude of gratitude all the time. Feeling gratitude for all of the horrific trauma that I have experienced does not make me stronger. Trauma actually makes me weaker.

By feeling my feelings exactly as they are, not how I wish I felt, I am making room for the discomfort and facilitating my healing from those traumatic memories.

Every day I choose to feel the challenging emotions, I get one day closer to gratitude that does not feel as if I am betraying my true feelings. One day at a time.

As I inch closer to a feeling of authentic gratitude, I release the deep breath that I did not realize consumed every molecule of my being.

I feel grateful for finally being able to breathe easily, even if for a moment, because I am one moment away from feeling gratitude for the ways I have coped over the years.

The dissociation kept me safe while I was experiencing the trauma. I feel grateful for this now-maladaptive coping skill because I am not plagued with so many gut-wrenching memories as I could have endured.

I miss the life I could have had if the trauma had not overtaken me against my will. I know I could have made a greater impact on the world.

I feel grateful that it is not too late for me to leave a footprint on the hearts of everyone I meet. I may feel weaker because of my trauma. That does not mean I have to be down for the count for the rest of my life.

While I may not feel grateful for a while, this break will allow me to process my emotions.

There are multiple paths to recovery, and none of them are straight. I choose the path that gives me many places to sit and rest.

There is no recovery without rest. I feel grateful that I can sit and rest without having to feel grateful all the time.

Dear LG,

Some things were easy for you, while many other children have struggled. You learned how to read when you were two years old, and you do not remember a time when you did not know how to read. 

You do not remember struggling. On the first day of school, you were the only kid in your kindergarten class who could already read.

That is impressive and I am so proud of you! What is even more amazing is learning a skill you struggled with and have since overcome.

Jump roping.

Kids usually learn it when they are in kindergarten. You tried and failed at that time. The other kids and adults called you clumsy.

You felt discouraged. 

You stopped trying to jump rope that year. And the next year.

Then, one adult believed in you: your second-grade teacher.

She threw you in with the kindergartners as they learned how to jump rope and encouraged you as you tried to learn.

You towered over the other kids in your second-grade class, let alone the kindergartners. You felt awkward.

The kindergarteners and their teacher cheered you on as you jumped and tripped over the rope hundreds of times.

Eventually, it all clicked. You learned how to coordinate your jumping in perfect timing with the swinging of the rope.

You were so proud of yourself, you just kept jumping and laughing happily.

Not only did you learn jump roping, you became an expert in the third and fourth grades. You joined the jump rope club with the girls and you jumped double dutch with ease. You also loved swinging the two ropes while the girls jumped in.

You were in your happy place.

Sometimes you will forget what you have overcome in your life and then remember that seemingly simple story of learning to to jump rope.

It was something the other kids took for granted, and you struggled to overcome.

And you did it!

You don’t know this, but this little life lesson – failing hundreds or even thousands of times before succeeding – will take you far in your life.

You will write the first 50,000 words of novels and then scrap them because they were ideas that failed.

You will write other prose that meanders.

You will craft rhyming poetry that does not quite flow.

You will not stop trying to write something that suits your style.

You will find your big break, one way or another. When you do, it will be a spectacular victory.

I believe in you, LG. My younger self who will never, ever quit doing what they love. You will always live inside me.