To my younger self, 

Omissions abound in every obituary. Maybe that’s why they’re unsettling. Whether it’s a friend or a stranger, there is a wistful emptiness between the lines. I’m sure this is not how you expected this letter to start. Don’t fret. It gets worse before it gets better. 

In the second half of 2017 a family member will have two years to live (it’s been seven, the prognosis was wrong), an employer will give credit (and a fortune) for your work to con-artist, a friend will fatally overdose, and a romantic partner will ghost you because of an undisclosed disease that will eventually kill her. 

Life’s most unpleasant and rewarding aspects are still abstractions to you. You are nineteen. Yes, you know things are ephemeral, yet you expect some stability. That’s fine. We all do. If we didn’t, we’d all be sages or basket cases.

You return to Florida from California to fix the house up for sale. During this period, your septuagenarian ex-employer becomes increasingly abusive toward your coworker, roommate, and his caregiver, a kind woman recovering from cancer. You are back home to help your family, while she’s stuck with him. She saved his life on three separate occasions. However, a gold-digger was determined to remove potential stumbling blocks. Now he’s penniless.

All of this is overwhelming. You (we?) have never been decisive. Hard as you may be on yourself, you have pushed through it all. Being knocked down repeatedly makes us prone to flinching at first. It’s natural to want to draw the curtains and withdraw. Fortunately, and unfortunately, you couldn’t do this without guilt, not for long. Let yourself escape now and then.   

All the world’s problems, including yours, will still be there. You can maintain a balance between stress and escapism. Fantasy can be a neurotic maladaptation, but a total aversion to it is masochistic. Ramming your head into your present reality does no one any favors. Reason is only unstoppable in theory; it’s subservient to our emotions, which, despite our best efforts, remain untamed. 

Introspective and analytical as you may be, there is no way to prepare for so many direct hits in such quick succession. Don’t criticize yourself for feeling hopeless. Yes, you have the power to withstand and understand what is happening. However, this doesn’t happen in a day or a month. Rebuilding can be just as hard as watching everything crumble. 

We’re not here to suffer; we’re here to learn. Suffering is an irreplaceable teaching tool. In the end, it won’t matter. It’ll be like a dream. Harold Bloom praises Shakespeare’s use of ellipsis in crafting his characters, leaving out details. Blind bardolatry got the better of Bloom, as conspicuous gaps in character biographies are inevitable in plays. Those spaces between the lines of an obituary are significant, but not important. Those who know assume they are there.

This isn’t just a pretentious aside. Vast swathes of our existences interest no one, not even ourselves. In hindsight, they are a means to an end. Make the right moments count. They’re still coming up. The rest is just preparation. At 33, we’re still preparing for what will come.   

You expect other people to behave (more or less) morally, or at least rationally. Admittedly, I do too, yet I regret to inform you that this is bad. Battles for even paltry estates bring out the worst in the contestants. When your employer evicted your roommate, her bills became yours. When your friend lost his job, you hired him. The burden shouldn’t have fallen on your shoulders. 

They were both instrumental in keeping your new client happy. Yes, marketing eventually got the axe, and you fell into debt helping them, but new jobs fell into your lap. Either through sheer coincidence or supernatural serendipity, you have always secured a new job shortly after losing an old one. 

Death, betrayal, and ghosting all strike different chords. Think of it as a kind of immunization. With reflection and other forms of inner-work, they leave you stronger. Remember what Virgil said: “some day, perhaps, remembering even this will be a pleasure.”

I’m not delusional enough to think these experiences are unique, nor do I wish to pretend that I should be altogether grateful for them. Hardship is not something I want to glorify or wish upon anyone. They’ve given and taken. Have they made us better? Worse? 

The question is moot, and we don’t owe anyone an answer. What’s important is that you pushed forward. Push through the empty spaces. All your work will be rewarded, I promise. 

I would give you a hug that feels like forever,
A warmth that says, you’re not alone—never.
I would kiss away bruises, seen and unseen,
With love so soft, it wipes your spirit clean.

I would give you courage, bold like a lion’s roar,
And feathers of a phoenix, rising once more.
I would sing you love songs made just for you,
For the part that forgot love could still be true.

I would ask you to pause, take a deep breath,
Let the wind kiss your skin and hush your stress.
I’d ask you to keep walking, even through doubt,
Through quicksand moments, when you can’t see a route.

I would ask you to honor the story you’ve lived,
Each chapter and scar—each lesson it gives.
I would ask you to forgive the you from before,
To let go of the weight you don’t need anymore.

I would ask you—don’t dwell on the pain,
You are not what hurt you, you’ve got so much to gain.

ProWriting Style Score: 100

I’m slowly changing; I’m not who I used to be. You shouldn’t need to worry about who we become. I’m not that scared little girl anymore who was afraid to stand up for herself and let her voice be heard. We let ourselves get bullied because of our petite size and having a noticeable Adam’s apple. We let people walk all over us, use us, and say things behind our backs. Now, I’m no longer afraid to speak my mind. Not just because of being a woman, but I guess in a way from family genetics as well. It is the way we were raised and know that our Great Aunt is that way; she speaks her mind and speaks the truth no matter how painful, but also is filled with love.

Even though speaking up may cause a situation to get worse or have someone say something negative, we shouldn’t be scared to speak up instead of letting others speak up for us. The new me is no longer letting others speak up for me because it is our job as who we are to speak up. I’m no longer as shy as I once was, as you know how naturally shy we are in general. Of course, a part of me will forever remain shy, however as I’ve gotten older and grown up I’ve been slowly being more open and not as quiet. Around meeting new people, obviously, we are shy. I’m changing because I now know my worth in this world and have so much more self-love and self-confidence. Old me, we are beautiful and should let it shine.

I know we used to feel so self-conscious and always think about how boys could like us and see in us something other than our personality that shines within us. But do not fret, old me, our body changes unexpectedly dramatically as we get older, and it helps positively to let our confidence shine through. Remember how Mommy and Daddy used to tell us that men would always chase after us and like us? Well, our parents are right because it is true. But we do come to find a young man who sweeps us off our feet like our favorite Disney film, Cinderella, who comes to love us for who we really are. This young man is our knight in shining armor, just like we wanted.

I’m not who I used to be, old me, because of the horrible situations life tossed at us that tried to break us down. I know certain situations literally tore us apart physically and mentally. I know Mommy and Daddy separating for good unexpectedly got to us more than we realized. But the heartbreak doesn’t last forever, old me, I can promise you that, cross my heart. We are strong, we can make it through anything and come back stronger. Mommy and Daddy stay on good terms and love me and our brother. Staying together as a family is the surrounding love we need to keep in mind. Everything happens for a reason; remember that always.

I know death seems to surround us, as we still don’t quite understand why God takes the people we love so soon. Old me, it doesn’t get any easier as we grow up. As you know, we’re born, we live, and we die. Sometimes, some people we know get taken too soon. However, just remember that we are spiritually gifted, we can sense and know when our family members we lost are with us always. They become our guardian angels, and we will see them again someday. I know it’s never easy, and it gets hard, but be prepared to deal with it when the moments come. The new me understands it so much better and takes time to appreciate more what’s around and to appreciate the small, precious things before it’s too late.

Old me, there’s so much more I can say, but it won’t be enough. Instead, I can give words of advice. Yes, it takes ages to figure out what we want to do in life, but we eventually and slowly find our path to greatness. I advise not completely giving up on our faith and praying to Jesus and God when needed the most. I advise keeping in mind that no matter what, we shouldn’t give up completely. We are loved, we are wanted, we are worthy to live in this world. Old me, life is short; we never know what happens. We can be here today and gone tomorrow. So never give up, chase your dreams, live each day like it’s your last. Old me, you should see us today, you would be so proud of how far we’ve already come, as we’ve always just begun to live.

It’s never too late for anything old me, remember that, and always have love.

Love,

The New Alexcia.

Thank you for keeping my promise. That day at recess. The clear sky let the sun beat down on all our classmates running over the blacktop, rushing into box ball and wall ball cliques. A fast-moving game of soccer transpired parallel to the over-crowded jungle gym. I stood, an island in a sea of childhood chaos.

              Depression circled my neck, reached down, set roots. The sense of an outcast taking deeper hold. The constant cut of never chosen, never fit in, and it fed the coldness filling my veins. A long tunnel of loneliness loomed before me where I would break in the worst ways well before I grew to be better. I tied a rope of words around my waist as tight as a drowning man’s grip and threw it to you through time and pain. I gave it a good tug and fell.

              The fall from childhood was as rough. The relentless drag through adolescence was excruciating. Tricked to eat dog cookies by friends showed you the worst in people. Chairs pulled out after offered cracked the easy trust you had in others. Teachers ignore quiet messages for help. Coaches provided lackluster examples of leadership you emulated. Employers who’d abuse their power left you understaffed, overworked, and with a shattered confidence. Friends invited you to parties of fake booze. Relegated to the side, unable to figure out how to join the conversations. You always tried, even when those dark roots murmured you knew better.

              You made it to college; a fresh start with fear and hope. Determined to break open old wounds and irregular healed ideals to become more than the wisp of a shadowed version of you. You stumbled into new social situations. A gifted painting with the wrong words caused instant shame. The party with the over drinking leading to a solo cry-filled walk back to campus. Hard words spoken to the wrong people destroying minted bonds. Broken trust was all you knew. Cruel words were your diet for nine years. That childhood coldness still clung to your soul, no matter how you tried to escape. Still, you tried.

              The rope held as you climbed, fibers cutting into raw hands. Knees scrapped; body battered from each new situation bulldozed through a well-worn comfort zone to reach. All this, to find yourself in the sun. Surrounded by people seeking you out. Habits I fought to lose were a distant memory for you. The ever-present pain is a remote echo. People reach out to speak with, celebrate, comfort, raise you up. Confidence rebuilt shard by shard; your head raised high with a hard-won amiable smile and soft words. You climbed with depression’s rusted weights, constantly coaxing you to fall back into the easy darkness.

              I am unbelievably proud of you. How you’ve become the person I needed. You never let go, even when your hands, head, and heart were tired from the constant attempts to grow. You become the best version of us the dark told us we never could be. All the times we slid back into old habits and a bad mindset, you wiped your hands and started again. You showed me we can survive anything, even the worst of ourselves.

              Thank you for standing in the sun, where I promised to survive all the struggles ahead of us and make it back to who I always was and will be. Where we’d have better days because we would make them shine, surrounded by authenticity and support. You didn’t simply survive; you created a path with every struggled step for others to follow on their own journeys. I’m honored to be the start of you, to grow into you. I’m proud of the strength you found in a relentless world.

(100% Style Score)
               

I never fathomed we’d ascend this far.
Back then, I measured time by breakdowns.
Each breath felt borrowed.
I once wept over the same pages
that now bear the weight of your power.

You—
the incarnation I once feared to envision.
You laugh without restraint.
You speak your truth as if crafted by the
heavens,
a goddess among stars,
adorning your cracks like constellations.

I was a shadow, a whisper,
lost in the labyrinth of self-loathing,
drowning in the cacophony of my imagining.
I sought to numb the pain, to seize control of
the uncontrollable,
and in that struggle,
I lost sight of my light.

Yet behold you now —
you unearthed the courage to surrender,
to release and find liberty in relinquishment.
You discovered that in yielding; you gained the
power to choose,
to chart a course toward the life you envisioned.

Do you remember me?
The girl who dimmed her brilliance to make
others comfortable?
Who mistook mere survival for truly living?
I was small,
but I harbored the seed.

And you—
you nurtured it to flourish.

Know this: I am proud of you.
Even in the throes of pain.
Even as the mirror fractures.
You embody everything I yearned to become,
and more than I ever dared to dream.

So, receive this letter
as both a benediction and a farewell.
I am not lost—I dwell within your roots.
But this narrative is yours now.

Burn bright for the both of us.
You’ve got this.

(ProWritingAid-Style Score: 100%)

Closing Old Doors and Opening New Ones

When you take a moment to reflect, how many of the situations or opportunities you’ve encountered have run their course or come to a close? How many of those are still active? Life is one never-ending hallway with closed doors waiting for you to open them. Perhaps you fling open some of these doors, only to realize they have led to a disaster. At other times, you slam the doors shut behind you so hard that they rattle their frames. And if you’re lucky, closing or opening a door steers you to some blessing. 

Let’s be real – I haven’t been opening the best doors in my door selection. Some led to missed opportunities, others saved me from starring in a personal disaster documentary. But this time felt different. For once, I had chosen a door that didn’t scream “bad idea” the moment I touched the knob. In fact, this door led me down the road of success. This guided direction allowed me to achieve part of a dream. Was it time to close this door, or was it time to keep pushing my way through?

It was the second week of November 2013. I was packing a carry-on suitcase full of clothes for a vital weekend away. My university graduation in Victoria was the most significant event I had ever attended, and I flew there. I was Heather Adel, a graduate of the Master of Public Administration program at the University of Victoria. 

Three short months earlier, I had finished weeks’ worth of editing and rewriting my master’s project. It was eighty-six pages from start to finish. It would “hit two birds with one stone” by creating a “Three-Year Economic Development Strategy” that aligns with the master’s project guidelines and addresses the needs of my current position as Economic Development Officer. Presenting the results to the Board was easy. They had been key players in creating the document. It was my dissertation defence that had me scared.

I arrived at the university 30 minutes before my presentation. The room was compact, yet functional. The six rectangular tables sat side by side, forming a honeycomb pattern. I grabbed the five copies of my eighty-six-page strategies from the bag and placed one on each table. At the front was the data projector, which lined up with the projector screen. I plugged my computer into the existing cables. Rubbing the back of my neck, I opened my laptop and clicked on the Microsoft PowerPoint presentation I had prepared for my dissertation.  

“Please work,” I said to myself as I waited for it to upload to the screen.

I felt like it was taking forever to load, but the load time was the same as at home. Everything was up and running within minutes, and I was ready to make my oral presentation. My feeling of relief was short-lived, as the 30 minutes were up, and the show was about to begin.

The smile on my face was the best I could do as I fought the fluttering feeling in my stomach. One by one, the four examining committee members came into the room and chose a part of the honeycomb to sit at. Three of the members were university professors, and one was the president of the nonprofit organization where I worked. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” I said under my breath.

I couldn’t believe that the 24-year-old president of the society I worked for had a vote in evaluating my thesis defence.

It took me twenty minutes to wrap up my PowerPoint presentation. I was clear and confident; every slide appeared where I had purposely set it. But as I clicked the last slide, the sight of nervousness quickly reappeared – dry mouth, heart palpitations. It was now up to the honeybees to determine whether I had provided an efficient structure for the colony’s growth.

We will ask you a question as we go around the circle. That will happen twice. Following that, we will ask you to leave the room while we decide on your dissertation, the head of the examining committee stated.

My comfort near the colony had grown strongly. I sat straight up in my chair, my chest pushed slightly forward. My eyes looked each member directly in their eyes. After the first round of questions, the president of my organization skipped his second question, leading to a moment of confusion. 

“Thank you, Heather. If you don’t have questions, you can wait outside, and we will call you back once we decide,” said the committee leader.

“Just wait, do we not get to ask another question?” said the president of my organization.

I was so embarrassed. Did this guy seriously not listen when the professor instructed on how the defence would work? Gracefully, the head of the committee opened the floor back up for one more question for me to answer. 

I sat in the hallway listening to the murmuring conversations. “Are they debating over me? Did I miss an answer to a question? Oh my god, did I fail?” My fearful mind took over. 

Twenty minutes later, my professor invited me back into the room. “Congratulations, Heather; you now have a Master’s Degree in Public Administration.”

Todd and I planned our flights to Victoria to be within an hour of each other. Todd had the earlier flight, which gave him time to land, rent a car, and wait for me at the “Airport pickup” part of the terminal. 

“Hi,” I said, dropping my bag on the ground. Tightly wrapping my arms around Todd’s neck, I gave him a gentle peck, conveying affection and warmth.

“I missed you,” Todd replies, softly rubbing his hand across my cheeks. His voice was soft. I needed his calmness. 

We packed our bags in the car and went to the hotel. I had thirty minutes to change and get ready to go. I stood before the mirror, brushing off anything that looked like dirt or fuss on my black dress. It was simple and understated, but it made me feel like I had arrived. The fabric was polyester, making it compact and foldable, adding to its elegance on the go. It hugged me gently, falling just past my knees, with a small slit along the left side. This dress was enough to remind me of all that I had achieved.

I slipped on my heels and clasped a silver bracelet around my wrist. The diamond earrings Todd got me glowed beautifully in my ears. As I picked up my purse, I took one last look in the mirror, and a grin of pride rushed through my body.

“You did this, Heather,” I whispered to myself. 

We arrived at the University two hours before the scheduled graduation ceremonies. I checked myself in, where the coordinators directed me to pick up my preordered gown and tassel. In a quiet room of the ceremony hall, Todd helped me slip into the robe, slightly adjusting the collar.

My stomach throbbed intensely, mirroring a hummingbird’s rapid feeding on a brilliantly hued trumpet vine. Todd and I stepped outside. I needed a breath of fresh air before taking my last steps. We took a few photos before heading back inside.  

Standing in line with 119 other graduates, the feeling of anticipation tightened my chest. Since my last name starts with an A, I was third from the front. 

The music started.

The doors opened, and we filed in one by one. The hall glimmered with people—families, friends, professors—and somewhere out there was Todd. I saw him almost immediately. He lightly waved his hand, attempting to catch my attention and confirm that he was ready to capture my walk. 

“Heather Adel, a graduate with a master’s degree in Public Administration.”

I stepped forward.

Everything blurred a little – the lights on the stage were so bright – I couldn’t tell if Todd was capturing this moment in time with photos, but the doctor’s hand was steady as he reached out and handed me my degree. 

“Congratulations,” the professor said.

“Thank you,” I said. 

With a smile pinned widely from one cheek to the other, I reached up and turned my tassel from the right side to the left, confidently stating, “I did it, it’s done.”

I smiled and looked into the audience, finding Todd like a compass. And there he was, looking back at me with an unfamiliar emotion. His pride in me looked almost as large as my pride in myself. The love I felt from him then was more profound than ever. 

After the professor called the last name and all 120 of us had moved the tassel from one side to the other, we followed the guided path back into the gym’s auditorium. I was scanning the crowd when I felt a hand on my back. I turned around to see Todd, his eyes shining like he hadn’t stopped smiling since I walked down the aisle.

“You did it,” he said, with echoing excitement. 

“I did,” I breathed, almost laughing. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

Todd stepped closer to me, brushing a stray hair from my cheek. 

“All those nights studying, all those times you doubted yourself – this moment crushed every one of them,” Todd said. “You have a master’s degree. Nothing can take that away from you.”

They denied me permission to keep the padded frame that the school used to display my degree. Instead, the university had a tri-table, walkthrough operating system designed to frame your degree how you like it. Table 1 – Frames: Available in wood, metal, or plastic. Table 2 – Matting: Thin, wide, flat, vibrant. Table 3 – Backing: Cover the page for the back of the frame and add hangable hardware to it. 

We started walking back to the car. Todd carefully grasped my glorious prize in one arm and gripped my hand with his other.

“I’m starving,” I said. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. My quivering stomach had prevented me from eating much that morning.

“Where do you want to go?” Todd said.

As I got in the car, I thought. “Where can we go for lunch to celebrate my graduation? Someplace where the people I know will see that I look at this achievement as one that is attainable by anyone who puts their mind to it.”

“Let’s go to McDonald’s,” I said. “I’m thinking a Big Mac Combo will work just fine.”

“Seriously,” Todd replies with a chuckle.

“Yes, seriously. The girls are only 7 and 5 years old. Considering all the hard work I put into my studies at school, I want them to see how exciting it was for me to graduate. And the best way to celebrate in their eyes is going to McDonald’s.” 

I realized it was time as I sat there, full from a McDonald’s meal and still wearing a faint flow of graduation. That door – the one I worked so hard to walk through, the one that held goals shaped by who I was three years ago – needed to close. Life had thrown me curveballs I never saw coming, with bipolar disorder and multiple sclerosis rewriting the rules I thought I’d live by. But instead of mourning what could no longer be, I honoured what I accomplished. That chapter was complete. It was time to close the door with gratitude—and turn toward the next one with curiosity and hope. 

The hotel in downtown Victoria was a new spot for Todd and me to stay. It wasn’t fancy in a showy way – more like quietly elegant, a space that feels like it’s been around forever. It sits just off the main drag, a block from the ocean. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t looking.

Inside, the building was a perfect blend of classic and modern—high ceilings, old wooden floors that creak just enough, velvety sofas in deep colours, and oddly perfect light fixtures that made the whole place glow at night. 

The attached lounge was dimly lit and offered a spot for low conversations. The server led us to a pair of deep, velvet chairs tucked in a place where you could disappear and stay for hours. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Asked the server.

“I’ll take a rye and coke on the side, a Gibson’s if you have it, please,” said Todd.

”I’ll have the Volcanic Hill’s merlot, a 9oz, please.” I said.

The jazz music playing in the background was soft enough that our conversations didn’t require us to raise our voices. For about an hour, we just sat there holding hands, talking about everything and nothing–plans for the holidays, dumb inside jokes, little things that only make sense between two people.

“I can’t believe tonight is our last night,” I said.

This sentence was the same one we shared each time we got together. It was the sentence that was making it feel physically more challenging to let each other go.

Todd went quiet. Not dramatically–just…still. 

“I guess I’m running out of time,” he said, almost like a sigh.

He was already down on one knee before I could even ask what he meant. Pulling out of his pocket was a little black box.

Holding it in his left hand and opening it with his right, his hands shaking lightly, he said, “Will you marry me?”

The ring was bold, stunning, impossible to ignore. The band was broad and solid in a grounded and intentional way. In the center was a one-carat round diamond, classic and bright, but what made it different was the surrounding halo—a perfect hexagon of tiny diamonds that caught the light in every direction. This ring wasn’t just pretty; it was so magnetically engaging; it pulled you in.

On each side of the band, three teardrop-shaped settings trailed down, each holding a diamond, the shapes getting smaller the farther they went—like a slow, graceful fade. Two tiny diamonds, one on the front and one on the back of the band, were like secrets only we would know. And just beside the center stone, on both sides, were delicate figure-eight symbols, tucked into the design like a whisper of forever.

My breath caught. “Oh, my god… this is beautiful,” I said, staring at the ring.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Todd smiled as he took my hand and gently slid it onto my finger. It felt heavy, yet it seemed to belong there. I leaned in and kissed him, then wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close.

“I love you,” I said in my bubbly voice.

“I love you, too,” Todd replied. 

Somewhere behind us, a small group of people must have overheard and seen what happened as the groups shared their joy by lifting their drink glasses and yelling the word,

“Cheers.”

Todd and I grabbed our glasses and held them gracefully in the air.

“Thank you,” our voices rang out.

We finished our drinks, barely tasting them, and walked back to our room, hand in hand. It was time to celebrate–just us.

To this day, Todd swears I didn’t actually say yes to his proposal. I, of course, am confident that I said yes. But since his focus at the time was asking me the question, and the most striking ring I’d ever seen before astonished me, I have to admit he is probably right. 

But when Todd proposed, it wasn’t just a beautiful moment. It was a brand-new door standing in front of me. And behind it was a life I hadn’t dared let myself hope for. A future. A partner. A life with someone who didn’t just love me–he wanted to stand by my side, fully, completely, forever.

Over the past nine months, the doors of opportunity that were offered to me have changed from a choice to a forced marriage. From a high school dropout to a master’s degree graduate, my dreams of various future employment opportunities once held vast potential. But now, multiple sclerosis has opened doors I never intended to unlock.

But now, standing in front of Todd, I finally had a choice again. He offered me a new door to walk through, a door so wide it didn’t just welcome me, it made space for everything I carried. I knew I wanted to take that step. But stepping through that door meant I had to find the strength to achieve what my heart needed most: to have my two girls with me, building this new life together. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t simple. But for the first time in a long time, it felt possible. 

Style Score – 100%

Hey Noble,

It’s me 15-year-old Angry Auddie. Well, it’s really all of us, the Elohim of you. We wanted to write and tell you how proud we are of you for getting us here. You really did the hard work to gain our freedom, and we are so glad!

Motormouth (6) is happy that you use your words, she spent 30 years silent, waiting for her chance to say something and now she says it all! No filter, no care and no breath in between, yet she speaks truth and of life, so that brings us into balance.

Auddie (12) too has opened up to allow herself to feel again. She can laughs at herself without feeling stupid or wrong. She shows herself grace and space to learn. She affirms us and straightens our crown from time to time. She knows our worth, she believes in our dreams, and she trusts you. Her thoughts no longer sink into despair. She is too busy finding beauty amongst the ashes. 

 Thottie Auddie (19-23) too has made a complete 180! Of all of us she was wounded the most. She carried a lot of burdens. Her road was truly the darkest.  I would say she deserves this new life the most. After losing custody of our children, entering a life of sex work and creating more self-inflicted wounds to our soul, she now is the woman you are today. Happy, whole, and abstinent for the past 5 years. She looks forward to leading more women to women support groups. As she continues to live our life holy righteous and honoring our temple.  The biggest whammy for her, is that her beloved friend from 2006 is now our anchor in life. 19 years later he found his way back to her as a real-life fisherman. She loves this part. His friendship always gave her comfort and safety.  

 6 months ago, when you ran away from home; and finally took a risk, you unlocked the magic and the unknown. You bought a one-way ticket from Indiana to Oregon with $26 and the last of our hope. No version of us expected that. Of all the choices to choose when you arrived, you choose us by choosing therapy. 

So, I, Not-so-Angry-Auddie (15-19) thanks you. You spent the last 23 years of our life being bound and weighed down by the choices I had to choose from. I know I held the rope you were trying to hang on to because I needed this freedom. I am the one who got pregnant and took on adult responsibilities when all you wanted was to do the right thing. I was the one who made choices that affected others, forced to raise a child only to lose them a few years later to the system. I pierced our side good with that one.  You spent days upon decades tending to that wound, so personally I want to say Thank you. Thank you for traveling back through our darkness, undoing the shame, guilt, and regrets along the way. Thank you for growing soft, and creating a safe space for us to call home within you. You tore down every wall, every barrier and every fear that we held onto. Brick by brick, stone by stone, you made your way back filling the voids with love, wisdom and light along the way. ANd you did it with such bravery and courage. When I heard the keys of life jingling outside my prison door, I knew the time had come, I was being freed. The magic and miracles in our life have shown up because you choose to show up. Thank you for holding on when you wanted to let go. Thank you for enduring the losses, heartaches, trials, judgements, and wrongdoings. Thank you for shaking off the shackles of mistakes, abuse, and long suffering of the mind and soul. Thank you for taking the time to sift through our shattered pieces and finding the parts of us worth salvaging. Thank you for tending to our mommy issues and loving her unto death and beyond. Thank you for understanding our dad and the story he never got to tell.  Thank you for choosing us and alchemizing our pain into power and purpose. You are the Noble Strong Storm, the Famous Warrior, the one luminating the light to expand past all our darkness. You are proof that we are limitless and can exceed all expectations, even our own. Keep free-falling, you got this!

Thank you for loving us,

Not-so-Angry-Anymore-Auddie.

P.S. WE all would like you to put the cigarettes down. I know I picked them up but older you wants more time to live and she will thank you for it later! 

 Writing style score 91

If I was the five-year-old version of myself,
I would be ecstatic to have someone like you on my shelf.
I would gaze up at you and see a force,
And automatically know that your strength is my source.
If I was the ten-year-old version of myself,
I could have nothing and know that I have endless wealth.
I would look to you and say ‘I wish I could be just like you one day’.
If I was the fifteen-year-old version of myself,
I would boast about your progress and how far you have come with no help.
You navigate this world with a heavy weight on your shoulders,
But still remain strong as if your purse are boulders.
However, if the twenty-year-old version of myself could talk to me today,
Her words would remain in her throat because she knows there is no right thing to say.
She would hold out her arms and pull me into her embrace,
And she would rock me side to side as she strokes my face.
She knows words would not suffice because my spirit has been broken.
So, the vibrato from her hums soothe my soul as unnecessary words are left unspoken.
The twenty-five-year-old version of myself would have so much to say,
Because even though yesterday you couldn’t, today we have to pray.
No person should carry the weight of the world on their shoulders,
And no person should have to endure an endless fight like war soldiers.
Because that fight has already been won,
So, the only thing left to do is to give myself over to the Son.

Style Score: 78%

Dear Younger Me,

The ‘New Me’ that exists today wouldn’t be possible without our journey together. The doubts and beliefs of the ‘Old Me’ have shaped the resilience and strength I now possess. Together, we’ve created a version of myself I am truly proud of.

Old Me: I doubted my resilience in the face of hardship.
New Me: Storms may rage, but my inner strength is legit.

Old Me: I believed my self-worth depended on self-sacrifice.
New Me: Setting boundaries taught me how to be more than right.

Old Me: I suppressed my individuality to gain acceptance.
New Me: Your unique spirit shines brightly; no exceptions.

Old Me: I built walls around my heart to protect myself.
New Me: An open heart can mend and bring true wealth.

Old Me: I confused comfort with genuine connection.
New Me: Actual love is a vibrant dance, not mere affection.

Old Me: I met anger with anger, fueling the cycle.
New Me: Understanding hearts can overcome the entitled.

Old Me: My mind was a battlefield of worries and “what ifs.”
New Me: Stillness within brings wisdom’s gentle gifts.

Old Me: I didn’t believe lasting joy was attainable for me.
New Me: Your inner light can spark a free destiny.

Old Me: I clung to the familiar, even when it didn’t serve me.
New Me: Learning how to let go allowed me to be free.

Both versions are the perfect mixture of me,
I’m proud of the person I turned out to be!

(Style Score: 100)

Dear Danéa,
Hi sweet girl! I want you to keep your head up, okay? I know these days are difficult, and you’re confused, but the storm will pass. Follow your first mind instead of allowing the opinions of others cloud your judgment. You know what’s best for you. Stop asking for opinions and just do whatever. Those people are not your friends. Stop hanging out with them. Leave them where they are. Other people’s opinions don’t matter. I know you’re tired of hearing that, but it’s true. Even if you do everything they ask, they will still make you the bad guy. So, just be yourself. Learn to love yourself. I don’t mean doing face masks, getting massages, or showering–though that’s good, too! Really take care of yourself. Learn to say no. You’re safe now. Stop trying to fit into the boxes of your past. Eat well; For the love of stars, please stop eating on campus and find somebody with a kitchen. Learn to get out of your comfort zone! It’s terrifying, I know, but very necessary for where you’re going. Relationship-wise, the man you’re thinking about has always loved and cared about you. He just has a funny, self-sabotaging way of showing it. Don’t be too hard on him or yourself. Allow him his space, but you don’t have to stop talking to him completely. You’ll regret it later. Your intuition was always right with everything and especially him–don’t let his friends get to you. You won’t move on from him with how you’re trying to now. Just feel your emotions for him and process them through art. Everything will all work out! Also, don’t get another car—just move out of the country, please. But even if you get the car, it’ll be alright, but you’ll sell it for less than half of what you paid for it. Don’t listen to your aunt. Moving to Los Angeles would be a mistake! Follow your gut feeling–she’s trying to use you. Always, always, always remember that you’re divinely guided, protected, and loved. You are an insanely talented and beautiful individual. Shine your light on the world. People need to hear your voice, so use it. Take those ready and willing to go with you on your journey. The rest, you will meet along the way. Keep smiling, but if you need to cry, go ahead. There’s love in tears, too. Your sister loves you and remembers you and your voice. You don’t need to fear her forgetting you when you leave. Cut your nana off, it’ll help heal you, trust me. Don’t respond to any texts from past individuals. It’s a test. They don’t care about you, only what you can offer them. I said it before, and I’ll say it again–you’re loved and protected, everything is working out for you perfectly. Stay true to yourself and spread love around you even when it’s hard.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 87%

Dear Old Self,

Listen up and listen good. I understand that life is a lesson you must experience on your terms, but here are a few words of wisdom that would have made your life’s journey a little easier. I have a long list of things I could say, but knowing you, I need to keep it short and sweet. So here goes my top six.

Accept people for who they are. Never expect them to live up to the expectations you set for yourself. Their journey in life differs significantly from yours, I promise. If requiring others to live up to your expectations is a prerequisite for a relationship, you are setting them up for failure, and disappointment will be yours alone. That’s another promise I make to you. Differences make people unique individuals. Learn to find the value of your differences and see the beauty in others.

Relax. Don’t take things so seriously. It’s ok to be passionate without perfection. Remember, flexibility over rigidity. Life will throw you a curveball at any moment. Many of them, as a matter of fact. Relax and enjoy the pleasant moments. You’ll thank me later.

Make every moment memorable. Rather, with a stranger or a loved one, memories are to be cherished forever. Unfortunately, time will erase a few. It’s just a part of growing older. I always say growing older is better than the alternative, so make the best of every moment and hold on tight to those memories.

Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. How else will you learn? Everyone makes mistakes, and no one person on this earth is exempt, no matter what they tell you. The key is to learn from your mistakes by acknowledging them, figuring out how not to keep making the same mistakes, and moving on. This would have helped you grow into the phenomenal woman you were meant to be much sooner.

Extend grace to yourself and others. Life is hard enough. Choose acceptance over judgment. Show compassion and understanding even when under challenging circumstances. Give unconditionally and not with intentions. The power of patience and prayer for yourself and others will become your superpower. Everyone needs these things to make it through life, and you are not exempt my dear.

Finally, understand that it is okay not to be okay. This road has seen many travelers. Invest in your mental health, seek help when needed, and do the work. At the end of the day, you are your most prized possession. Throughout life, you’ve prioritized others and put yourself last. I’m telling you now, you can’t truly take care of others if you’re not taking care of yourself.

I wish I could have shared these words earlier to ease your life a bit and lighten your struggles. But just in case you were wondering, despite any bumps in your road, you turned out to be one amazing lady.

Sincerely Yours

Style Score 76%

I am so happy I found you, Sweet Girl.

You were hiding in the shadows, and I thought I saw you a few times before, but each time your image shuddered and whispered away into the obscurity. Today, the light of consciousness fills me and illuminates my path. That is how I can finally see you now, before me, bathed in soft light and surrounded by all the angels. 

I want you to know, Sweet Girl, how very proud I am of you. At long last I can see the circular path that has brought me back to myself. Today, I have the luxury of resting in God’s arms, knowing that He is in control. But that was not always the case. You, the sweet girl who spent her life in apologetic torture, feeling defeated and deflated and mourning the events and actions that her future self would regret. The girl who has lived five different lives, all cascading upon one another with insidious transitions, abrupt departures and squandered opportunities. Hearts and bones broken, some still in disrepair. You arrived into each new lifetime feeling self-retribution and expecting a vengeful and angry future self who would place all blame on your own fragile sensibilities. 

And that is why I am brimming with pride and gratitude toward you. Because you are the sweet girl who drowned in her own suppositions and self-doubt…but who never stopped trying. Do you realize how difficult life can be even when you DO have a Higher Power, high self-worth, and a close group of loved ones to see you through? Even with the light of consciousness inside me and an aura of peaceful servitude on the outside, this life is filled with challenges. But…the blessed soul who can persevere while possessing none of those things…that is the Sweet Girl who deserves to receive the accolades. Despite others inflicting real pain, despite your own mind inflicting perceived pain, even through disappointments and setbacks and dashed dreams and long-forgotten scenes, you persevered. And true peace comes not to the swift, but to those who persevere. 

So today, my lovely child, I lovingly extend my hand to you. I want to guide you out of the shadows. Your image no longer has a need to shudder or whisper away. You can stand tall and you can stand proud, because the woman you have seen me become is all due to you. You pushed yourself to face those atrocities, and you sought connection to your Creator. You kept writing poems long into the night, just to clear space for the next onslaught of feverish events. And you brought me to a place where I can breathe deeply, enjoying the view from my park bench, feeling the blessed and calm reassurances of my own soul. I love you, Sweet Girl, and I thank you for your bravery and your pure heart. I will stand tall and make my best effort to honor your path.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 86

Dear Me,

Well, guess what? You’re an artist now. Who knew you had it in you? That part of yourself you envied in others and buried has finally come to light. All the while, you don’t loathe yourself as much as you used to. We’re still a work in progress, always will be, I suppose. But we like it that way. Life around us is always changing. It’s only fitting we do the same.

On another note, you’ve found the love of your life. I know you wondered and waited for him. But he was worth the wait, as were you to him. His love and loyalty have pushed you far beyond what you thought possible. His strength is there on days where you believe you have none. He sees infinite possibilities in you and that encouragement was all you needed to take a leap of faith for yourself. The moments of pure joy you experience together are worth more than any wealth found in this lifetime. He was worth the wait.

Life has brought us many challenges, as one might expect. You have greeted each of them with acceptance and you’re much more resilient than you know. All the self-criticism you hold on to so dearly doesn’t compare to the strength you receive from love. It’s okay to let it all go. Believe it or not, but you create all the doubt and fear you feel. It’s the greatest gift of all – energy. Once we learned to embrace these feelings as a friend, rather than an enemy, you could recognize your own strength and power.

We’re here to remind others of all that is good and beautiful in this world and you excel at it. Your creativity is a gift you will share with the world. One day, crochet will open the door again to the creative spark within you and you’ll follow your own yellow brick road. You never know where it’ll take you, but you can’t wait to find out. And I can honestly say I’m proud of you for not giving up. The world needs you and I. Let’s hug it out. I love you.

Much love,
Kelly Anne

Style Score: 100%

Dear Little Rob,
You won’t believe who this is from.
Actually-you probably will.
You’ve always known time doesn’t follow the rules the way people pretend it does.
It’s me.
You.
Just a little further down the road.
I’m not here to give you advice, or hand over cheat codes.
There are no shortcuts in life. You don’t get to skip the hard parts.
You’re going to walk through some heavy things-
moments that won’t make sense for a long time,
moments that feel like they’re breaking you.
Like the fire is too much.
But it’s not burning you.
It’s forging you.
Shaping you into someone stronger than you ever imagined.
In ways you won’t understand.
Pain will be a brutal but effective teacher.
And laughter?
Laughter will be your best defense, your pressure valve, and sometimes your battle cry and the thing that dulls life’s worst lectures.
Your mistakes? The failures that sting and echo?
They matter.
Every heartbreak, wrong turn, and doubt-filled night-
they’re not detours from the path.
They are the path.
You’ll feel lost sometimes.
Alone.
You’ll carry things that were never yours to hold.
And just when you’re certain you can’t carry another ounce,
life will hand you more-
and somehow, you’ll keep going.
There’s a deeper strength in you than you know.
That doesn’t go away.
You’ll forget it sometimes,
but it never forgets you.
One day, you’ll wonder why I didn’t warn you.
But when you look back, you’ll understand:
the voice, the resilience, the grit-
they couldn’t be given to you.
They had to be earned.
People will hurt you.
Some by accident.
Some on purpose.
But a rare few-
the real ones-
will love you with a kind of quiet, steady depth you won’t think you deserve.
You do.
Let them.
Don’t shut yourself off although it seems safer to go it alone.
Keep your heart open-
just install better locks and learn where to draw the lines.
You won’t become who you expected.
You’ll become someone better.
A little banged up. A little wiser.
Definitely funnier.
There’s a kind of humor that only comes from surviving what tried to undo you-
from standing in the wreckage, and thinking of a joke.
Please-stay weird.
Stay wild-hearted.
That strange spark in you?
That’s not a flaw.
That’s your gift.
Don’t bury it to make others comfortable.
The world doesn’t need perfect.
It needs authenticity
It needs you.
You won’t land where you planned.
You’ll land somewhere better.
Not easier. Not cleaner.
But more grounded.
A clearer perspective than most.
So no spoilers, kid. Just this:
It turns out okay.
Actually-on most days, it turns out beautiful.
I love you.
I’m proud of you.
Keep going.
Big Rob

(Style Score 100%)

How are you doing? I love being able to check in with you. I know this might sound dramatic or silly but make sure you keep doing things that make you happy and never be scared to talk to me. I’d never steer you wrong, atleast not intentionally.

I love the light in your eyes, so make sure to never lose that. Life will eventually throw some hectic things your way, but if you remember who you are and how to stay grounded, you will always be ok. Life is meant to be lived. Enjoy every moment you can. Be confident, because you are Angelically beautiful and protected inside and out and nobody or nothing can ever take that from you.

Love Always,
Older you

Dear past me,

I’m glad you didn’t take those pills that day in 12th grade.
I’m glad you stayed to finish that final exam, and that you went home, even though it felt like there was only chaos, and no one truly waiting for you there. I’m proud of how you carried that quiet loneliness, moving from one painful situation to another, and still held on.

I’m glad you stayed long enough to graduate one day.
I’m glad you kept whispering those prayers: “If I make it out of this childhood, please let me have a happy adult life.”
I’m glad the absence of support from your parents or any adult didn’t stop you.
I’m so proud you found the strength to work four jobs, to fund your education and survival all by yourself.
I’m glad you stood alone at graduation, and that you didn’t let that emptiness steal your moment.

I’m especially glad you didn’t numb yourself.
No pills. No shortcuts. No narcotics.
Even when you wanted to disappear, you didn’t.
Even when the path felt unbearable, you kept walking it.

You never followed the easy way out.
You didn’t settle for love that only offered comfort.
You waited for better.
Without proof, without promise, you believed something good would come.
And somehow, it did.

I’m glad you started reading books at six years old.
I’m glad you discovered there were other worlds, other ways to live.
Books became your window and your proof: life could be different.
And one day, you’d make sure of it.

And I’m so glad that seeing the tragedies you did, things no child should have to see, didn’t break you.
You let it shape you, not stop you.
You kept going.
And now, you choose yourself. Every time.
I am so proud of you for that.

Thank you for holding on, for pushing through, for not giving up on me.

Because of you, I now live a life that once felt impossible.
A beautiful life.
A dream career that combines your love for travel with the power to motivate others, just like the books that once saved you.
You’ve visited the places you used to only read about. You’ve become the light you were always looking for.

There’s no more silence, no more aching loneliness.
You found community.
You found people who love you like family, who guide you, who celebrate you.
You found peace.
You found love.
You made it.

And best of all, your prayers were heard.
Your adult life is full of joy.

So thank you.
For the sleepless nights, for the faith, for the fight.
I’m so glad you exist.
And I’m endlessly proud of you.

With love,

from Me.

Style Score: 94%

Dear New Version,
You are someone I would have liked to have had as a friend and mentor in my life. Your life is so rich with stories and experiences that I can’t even imagine. And you’ve created a sanctuary of peace and beauty within yourself and in your own little world that I’ve yet to experience. I’m so glad to see that the feelings and inklings I’ve had about my true nature have come to fruition, and you are developing those talents in ways the world has never seen. I’m glad that you are releasing the old stories and creating new ones filled with beauty, hope and magic.
I see how other people feel in your presence, and I really admire that. They feel seen, heard, and safe in your presence. I don’t have that yet in my life and I can’t tell you how much that makes a difference. How do I know people feel seen and safe in your presence? You notice things others don’t. And you appreciate a lot of those things and voice your appreciation without hesitation. I wish I was on the receiving end of one of your compliments. But I also know the compliments others have given you that still resound in your heart. I am amazed that someone has called you a bright light. You received that compliment some time ago, but from my vantage point, that light has become even more magnificent.
You’ve also learned to temper your anger when somebody has evoked your ire. The fire burns inside you and I am in awe of how you don’t let it consume you, but let the flames flicker until they cool before you express yourself. I haven’t learned to do that yet. You’ve released a lot of anger that I unknowingly allow to drive me. I wield my words unknowingly like swords and often unintentionally hurt people, and suffer the backlash. I see how you still get straight to the heart of things; but you have learned to use your voice in a way I haven’t yet.
You still have the swords at your side to wield as well as your shield when you need them though. The boundaries you’ve established mean you don’t have to use them so often anymore because you’ve learned to keep yourself safe while remaining connected to people you value. You are no longer willing to accept things that I still tolerate. I don’t yet realize that I’m worth more than that. You are learning to value yourself more. I see that you still beat yourself up, but you are learning to slow down, to take care of yourself more, and to provide yourself with the love you’ve always been seeking. I see how that self-love and self-mastery make you a giant. I bow at your feet.
I am in awe of the pain you’ve endured and how, instead of letting it warp or destroy you, you’ve walked through the fire and come out the other side transformed by it. You learned to lean into it and I am amazed by how you let it soften you and somehow you are stronger for it. I see how you are listening to your heart now and you discovered wings that I never would have guessed were there. I never dreamt that I could fly and I love seeing you testing your wings and taking flight. I cannot wait to see what adventures await you once you let the wind carry you!
I see how you are slowly letting your inner softness reveal itself on the outside more and more. I see you taking off your armor and learning to surrender to ease and flow. I see there is still that girl who is a warrior and doesn’t hesitate to fight battles, but I see you winning more hearts and not needing to fight as many battles. When you fight battles, you are no longer alone. I see you move through the world in power and unaware of your beauty. It is astonishing. Truly. You don’t see it, but others also watch you in awe.
I see that you still suffer from some wounds that are fresh for me. Thank you for working on healing them. They weigh heavily on me now and I can see that you are releasing the pain to open up new possibilities that neither of us can imagine. I look at you and I’m hopeful for the future.
I love you. You are everything and more that I never knew I could be.
Yours,
Annette

Prowriting Aid Style Score: 100

To my future self,
There you are. I see you. I’m genuinely amazed at how much you’ve achieved.
I’m the version of you that existed before everything changed. Before the heartbreak. Before the trauma. Before, you had to learn to breathe again through shattered lungs. I’m the you who used to numb everything just to make it through the day. The girl, who carried years of pain, pretended she was fine, when inside, she was screaming. You weren’t broken—you were surviving. You turned to drugs not because you were weak, but because you didn’t know how else to silence the pain that never seemed to end.
You were just trying to escape the weight. The memories. The guilt. The feeling of never being enough. The aching loneliness, even in a crowded room. I remember how you hated yourself for using, hated how it stole your spirit—but you didn’t know how else to function. You just wanted peace, even if it came at a cost.
And then… he came into your life. That man. That love. You didn’t expect someone to love you with a past like yours. But he did. He saw through the pain. He never judged you—he embraced every flaw, every scar. For once, you felt chosen. Worthy. Loved.
He didn’t just love you—he loved your kids. He became the father Adalynn had always prayed for. Their bond was so pure, so rare, so real. You watched her light up when he walked into the room, and you saw how her heart finally settled. He gave her something you couldn’t give on your own: a feeling of being fully protected. And Egypt—sweet, little Egypt—followed him everywhere, soaking up every second of his love. She adored him.
 Then that night came. July 15th.
The night that split your life into “before” and “after.” When he took his life in front of you, something inside you shattered. That moment is carved into your bones. You heard your own scream echo through the silence. You felt your knees hit the ground. You felt the air leave your lungs. That image—his final moment—haunts you. And in that moment, the old version of you wanted to die, too. To crawl back into the numbness. To disappear.
But you didn’t. You stayed.
You stayed for Adalynn and Egypt, even when getting out of bed felt impossible. You stayed through the panic attacks, through the flashbacks, through the nightmares. You stayed through the birthdays and holidays he missed. You held your babies while they cried for a father who wasn’t coming back, all while carrying your own unbearable grief.
You didn’t relapse. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But you didn’t. You chose to heal. You chose therapy. You chose recovery. You chose you.
The Army and his trauma, the toxic beliefs he carried about manhood and weakness—they stole him from you. He thought asking for help made him less of a man. But it didn’t. It would’ve made him human. You would’ve carried that weight with him. You wanted to. But now, you carry it alone.
And yet here you are. Standing. Breathing. Living.
You are not the girl I used to be. You are stronger. You are raw and real and full of fire. You’ve turned your pain into power, your scars into stories. You are a mother who fights through the darkest grief and still finds ways to love deeper, harder, fuller.
I am in awe of you.
Keep going. You are becoming everything we always hoped we could be.
With all my heart, 
The Woman You Used to Be

Stylist score 80