If you had told me when I was seventeen that I’d be thirty-seven years old, seven years divorced, single and on a trip to Bali, Indonesia in the spring of my thirty-seventh year, I wouldn’t have believed you. I wouldn’t have even heard beyond the word divorce and got to the fun word, Bali. Instead, in a full-fledged teenage frenzy, I would have shot into fight mode, words flying out of my mouth like a gamer’s quick-twitch thumb on their controller’s trigger. I would have thrusted my virgin heart forward and valiantly proclaimed my ability to fall in love and stay in love is much greater than those with broken love pacts. I would have told you that I’d be one of the foreverers, that I’d “get it right” because I’m different. I’m special.
What a thing for that on the cusp of adulthood girl to wholeheartedly believe. And I don’t say that shaking my head in disbelief at wide-eyed, sweet, yet senseless little me. Rather, I say it because the “special” part and the “I’m different” part of that seventeen-year-old’s sermon were spot on, just not for the reasons she assumed.
She had no idea then how brave she’d become to keep looking Fear in its blood-red eyes and try for what she wants whether that be romantic love, a career, a destination, or a dream, again and again in a world that has become less and less forgiving. She had no idea that the first boy she’d love at seventeen would still be her big love touchstone at thirty-seven, and for good reason. (Her picker was spot on at seventeen.) She had no idea the why of her special or her brand of difference, but she knew it was there inside of her, and to this day that insight at such an early age is impressive to me.

She wouldn’t have believed me if I told her she’d go through two starless years not believing in love or at least not believing love would happen to her (again). She wouldn’t believe me if I told her the way the last man treated her. Everyday a fire drill. Stop, drop, and roll up what’s left of your self-esteem into a microscopic ball so he can’t see it.

She’d say, “No, not me. I know all the big dreams I dream up when I climb onto my parents’ rooftop after everyone falls asleep are meant to be. And they don’t include a fucked up he.” She wouldn’t say it like that though, she’d simply say, “Nope. That’s not me!” but the above sentence would be what she means.
She wouldn’t have known where Bali was on the map. But she wouldn’t have known her way around any map that didn’t lead to her already mapped out dreams.

From the time of counting her stubby fingers to tell someone her age, she was a professional at three things:

1. Watching what grown-ups closest to her did wrong in relationships
2. Promising herself she’d do love right
3. Playing a sport

She told herself she understood love because she understood sacrifice, dedication, loyalty, teamwork, and the innate value of clear communication from the lessons of her favorite game. She knew in order to win the work must be done together. She also knew to love was to know something more massive than yourself then sweat, bleed, and cry for it when you must. She wouldn’t need to know Bali because it wasn’t yet a pin in the canvas of her dreams. All she knew was that she’d be a professional soccer player one day and she’d fall in love (for real as she’d say) and there would be no need for a D-I-V-O-R-C-E.

She didn’t realize there should or even could be a life beyond the promise of these dreams.

And so, keeping in mind what she didn’t know and her aptitude to dream, I think seventeen-year-old-me wouldn’t be so bummed out when learning about thirty-seven-year-old Bali tanned me. At least, not after I explained how much wider her dreams could be.

I’d tell her, you didn’t become a professional soccer player. Although, my girl, you got remarkably close. Some might say as close as one could come without getting the full dream.

I’d tell her, you didn’t fall in love and stay in love. At least, not yet. Although, my girl, you’ve been in love a handful of times. And it was every bit as delicious as you had hoped.

I’d tell her, don’t worry, you still find your way onto rooftops and dream colossal dreams and make up silly inventions and laugh until your belly is sore with glee. You write poetry and look people in the eyes when they speak and walk tall even on the days you feel so very small. You continue to care too much (exactly enough) about everything. You become more confident than you give yourself credit for and more filled with grace than ache although you often won’t admit that either. You grow into a human who is every bit as powerful as you once dreamed. It just looks different than you imagined. Nothing about that is less worthy of celebration.
And she would be heartbroken and transfixed by her future self at the same time. Then after a long pause, she’d say something like, “so I’m a foreverer after all.” Shocked and caught off guard, I’d say, “What do you mean?” And she’d say, “It sounds to me like I am forever falling in love with different somethings. Isn’t that, right?” I’d nod my head yes and agree.

Then she’d smile as bright as her white-blond hair and say, “That sounds like a foreverer to me.”

Do you realize you will live?
Through every form of destruction,
You’ve been granted a mind of wonder,
A flourish of light that exists within.
What have you accomplished in this life?
Well, baby darling,
many times you’ve attempted to quit,
But always returned to choose life,
A soul that refused to die.
With rage and resistance,
you’ve continue to try,
Becoming an earthly angel,
In disguise.

Go forth with unspoken power.
No matter what is thrown at you,
You have a deeper passion.

I love you for letting me see your growth,
For releasing comparisons.
In you, I see all hopes.

Look out, world. We no longer need to stay concealed.
When I was very young, my body and mind were severely traumatized.
The trauma was from all around me – literally everywhere! So many unfortunate events made me feel lost, alone, ashamed, afraid, and confused. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening to me. It was too much for my mind to process and organize.
You see, I was an extremely precocious child and the most intelligent child my town had ever known. I had a photographic memory and was highly creative, talented, and athletic. The trauma was overwhelming my brain’s ability to cope with all the trauma, however.
My brain just couldn’t organize all the horrific things going on in my world, so I had to learn to compartmentalize, dissociate, and make up ways to live in the hell called my life, and not give up entirely and decide to end it all. I guess that was my first goal: to survive all the trauma.
Guess what? I am now 53 and writing this story! I have reached one of my most essential goals in life!
The longer the trauma kept up, the more fragmented my sense of self became. You see, nearly every time I had to dissociate, I was creating a new sense of self in an attempt to try to forget all the feelings and emotions experienced during a particular trauma. As time passed, the various Ages of Me, as I called them, became more extensive and more prominent in number. By 18, I likely had more than 12 parts of me – brainmates – as I often call them. I didn’t name them, though. I identified with them by age when they came into being and, sometimes, by the emotions associated with their creation.
Few people understand dissociative identity disorder. Growing up, I was often subjected to judgments about the state of my mental well-being, and I was even admitted to more than one psychiatric hospital, where more trauma would occur. Why was this child, so tormented and abused, the one who was locked up? The people causing all the chaos in my young body and mind were left to run free. Inconceivable! This added to my insecurities! I had to learn to conceal all my brain mates, keep them my internal secret, and not be subjected to the crazy people in my life.
The traumas continued into my young adulthood, and by my middle twenties, I had more than 20 different self-states. No one could ever find out about them, lest I be locked up for the rest of my life! I could only dream that they could all be free to live out in the open one day.
I was married and started having children in my early 30s, which I had been told would never happen. The traumas I had sustained throughout my entire childhood left me with wounds and scars that would seem to make motherhood an impossibility. Not only did it seem I could not bear children physically, but it was believed I would never be able to be emotionally present for kids, nor be able to provide for their needs of safety, security, and love, nor be able to protect them from my mental instability. Three children later, I realize I have fulfilled a second dream: I was able to carry, birth, and raise 3 of the most caring, compassionate, intelligent, and God-fearing children anyone could ever hope to parent.
During the next 10 to 15 years, I would seek therapy to heal from all my hurts. I found several excellent practitioners who did incredible trauma work with me. Still, I remained too scared to tell any of them about all of my self-states, who numbered nearly 40 by that time. I knew during all my therapy sessions that all my brain mates were in the room with me because I understood we were all part of the same person. My brain had just fragmented and learned how to cope with all the chaos. The parts of me never felt any of my therapists quite capable of dealing with all of us, nor trustworthy enough to feel safe to make all of the Ages of Me known.
Well, after several more years of severe pain and suffering, my 10-year-old self could no longer stay hidden. The therapist made us feel safe, and she would have made such a wonderful mother to us. My 10-year-old self wanted to tell the therapist she wished she could be our mother. Out of the blue, my selves came forward, and my therapist started meeting them all. She was frightened at first but learned to understand us all. The third dream has come true: The Ages of Me are now free!

My parents told me ever since I was a little boy that I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up. They would say things like, ‘Gregory, you’re so smart. You can accomplish anything if you set your mind to it.’ ‘Greg, you’re good at everything you try. If you’d just apply yourself, you can have a great career.’ But those are just things parents are supposed to tell their kids, right? Isn’t that part of being a parent? Making a child believe they can do anything they set their hearts to? Encouraging your kids to aim for the stars?

At 10, you ask ‘Can I be a cheerleader like my big sister?’ You’re met with laughter which fades quickly because they realize you’re serious. No, the answer is no. That’s what girls do and you’re a boy. You can do anything that boys do.

At 12, your grades drop in school, and you’ve lost interest. You’re told ‘you’re smarter than this.’ You ask, ‘Can I do gymnastics like my little sister, or be a ballerina?’ Gregory, they would say, that’s for girls. Not boys. You’re not a girl. And you replied, why can’t I be? And the answer is simply because you cannot.

You’re sent to your room, told never to speak of this again. And you didn’t, until you were 14. You told them you didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life. You’re reminded that you can do anything you want. And they heard you mumble that’s a lie. You’re sent to a Dr. to fix you. To make sure you never have those thoughts again. For years it worked.

You’re 42, it’s another sleepless night scrolling the internet. For some reason you do a specific search that night. You send an email and think, I’ll put all these thoughts to rest finally. The next day you get a reply. She wants you to tell her about yourself. You pour your heart out. You tell her all your thoughts and feelings of wanting to be a cheerleader, a mother and how puberty was torture.

Two days later she calls you and says she has an opening! But fear sets in. Is she going to be like the one that tried to fix you when you were 14? You decide it’s worth the risk. And for the first time in 30 years, you have a therapist. She is kind, compassionate and understanding. She says you can be anything you want, it’s never too late. You recoil because your parents used to tell you that. You tell the therapist that’s a lie parents say. And she counters with, why? Why is it a lie?

Because you’ll lose everything. Your kids, job, family, and partner. You have responsibilities. She says, you have responsibilities to yourself as well and that while she can’t make promises on if you’ll lose anything or anyone or not, what she can promise you is, that shedding your mask and people’s perception of you may be scary, yet it can also be rewarding to be your authentic self. And she guides you along the way.

And each milestone along the way heals you a little bit. You find a little more joy in life whereas before, that was something you didn’t see a lot of. Then one day, you see her in the mirror. It was just a quick glimpse, but you seen her. It’s weeks before you see her again, but she lingers a little longer. And over the next few years she replaces him in the mirror until you hardly see him anymore. You wonder if he was ever real or not. You make new connections, and you lose some connections in your life. Yet, you gain new connections that are much stronger.

Your relationship with your kids becomes stronger when you thought they’d hate you. 4 years after meeting your therapist, you have your first surgery. And you’re riding high. 5 years after meeting your therapist you have the big surgery. That’s the moment your soul is healed. You say goodbye to your therapist because you don’t need her anymore. In parting you leave her this message that is the most profound thing you were ever told, even if you thought it was a lie.

You tell her that once upon a time, there was this kid who dared to dream. He was told he could be anything he wanted to be when he grew up. So, he became a woman and lived happily ever after. All it took was for one person to believe in her and to support her and she found that she could do anything she wanted to in the world because all she had to do was dream it and then manifest it.

This is the time.
Stop waiting for payday, to lose 5 more pounds, for next year, when the kids are a little older, when you have more time off from work, for the holidays, to send that text, make that call, tell them how you feel, apologize, give that hug, make that leap, ask for help, quit your job, get that divorce, to eat the cake, to buy the dress, put on the bathing suit, laugh, love, live. This is the time.

Dearest little Shauna,
You will become everything you hope, just now how, or when you plan to. There will come a point where you will doubt everything you ever believed in and surrender to the life you never asked for. Your life will be tragically beautiful. However, you will find that spark you lost so long ago on the road of heartache and tragedy, and that spark will create a version of yourself that will be stronger and loved more than you ever thought possible. The little girl you are now will resurface at almost 40 years old and you will finally live your life dream and become a teacher. Along that road, sweet Shauna, when faced with each obstacle, know you are only being prepared for a life you have only dreamt about. You will find happiness, true love, and confidence to follow your dream after years of being told you would never be good, or smart enough. You will meet a man who will heal a heart he didn’t shatter, your love will create the family you had stopped praying for, and you will have the support and strength from a village you don’t know you have yet and will live the dream you have right now. Hold on. Hug your brother. You won’t want to know, but you will regret it. Trust me. Say yes. It won’t end how you think, but he will give you a reason to live when you need it most. Don’t be afraid to say yes again. He is your happily ever after. You are enough. You always have been, you will remember that down the road.

i’d gaze upon the nightsky
watching stars streak on by

i’d toss a few coins
into elegant fountains

i was doing all that
with one thing in mind

a wish that i would cherish
if it would ever come true

but the stars would fade
and day would come

the coins would blend in
along with the other ones

i thought it wasn’t true
maybe it wasn’t meant to be

and now, i no longer wish
i don’t need to wish
not anymore

for i have you
and i’m thankful
that my wish came true

Dear Reader,

While making his first day of school sign for 2nd grade, my son shared what he wants to be when he grows up. I didn’t hear him, and when I asked him to repeat what he had said, I could see embarrassment rise from his abdomen until it flushed his face red.

“Please, tell me,” I told him. Slightly above a whisper, he responded, “I want to be a basketball player.” He felt nervous about saying it out loud. It reminded me of my own stated aspiration close to his age. Growing up near the University of Notre Dame, I stated my desire to attend college there when I was nine. Receiving an acceptance letter from Notre Dame requires significant determination, but my parents taught me to trust my abilities. When you whole-heartedly believe in yourself, you hold power. Empowering yourself, practicing, and working hard become the bricks that lay the foundation of your future achieved goals.

I persevered, and despite people doubting me, I had confidence I could succeed. Self-doubt crept in, as it does for everyone, but I was kind to myself in these moments. “It’s okay, just keep giving your best. Keep trusting you have what it takes,” I told myself. I watched the commercials of young adults opening Notre Dame acceptance letters and imagined myself opening my letter. I cried while visualizing myself holding the mail I’d one day open that would say, “Welcome home.”

It may sound cliché to tell you to work hard and have faith in your potential, but how many times has the world doubted you? How often have you been embarrassed to say your goals out loud out of fear of funny looks or the worry that you’d say it and it wouldn’t happen? What would people think? Would they laugh?

After being accepted to Notre Dame, I wrote my story and shared how I accomplished my goal. My acceptance led to another fulfilled dream: for my writing to be recognized. My writing was featured in “The Secret to Teen Power,” a book that teaches teenagers how to use mindset to achieve the dreams and goals they have set for themselves. The author told me he thought my story could inspire others. I saw one person, years later, say my story inspired her to apply to her dream college. One person means the world. One person means everything to me. Inspiring one more person is my next goal, which I hope this letter will do.

So, I’ll lead by example and share my next dream: to be a published author. I’m saying it now with a mix of anxiety and deep knowing. The fear will arise, saying, “What if it doesn’t pan out?” It does scare me. I imagine your goals scare you, too. But I’ll say it proudly with a shaking voice. Will you state your goal with me? When your self-doubt creeps in, remember to say, “It’s okay, just keep giving your best. Keep trusting you have what it takes.”

I looked into my son’s worried face and said, “Then you’ll be a basketball player, baby. It’ll take effort, and you’ll need to practice daily, but I’ll train with you.”

“Can we practice now?” he asked.

Are you practicing and dedicating effort?

Do you have confidence you can achieve your goal?

I believe you can, and I can’t wait to see what you’ll do.

You’ve got this,
Rachael

You are stronger and wiser than you know
Your thoughts are stalking you
do not queue any hue that’s not meant for you
People’s opinions of you are their own.
You are stronger than you were yesterday.
continue to forgive yourself for not being able to control the horrific actions of others.
Self-love is necessary for your healing.
It is putting you back together whole and true.
forgive any past actions by acknowledging how they have not served you well.
You will continue to trust the process and your progress.
You will not let the fear of being taken advantage of scare you to stillness.
You will stand up for yourself and tell the truth.
You will do it with dignity and respect.
You will be vulnerable even when it makes you uncomfortable.

Hollow

Dear younger Destiny……….. we did it
Thank you God
For this opportunity
The only time feeling empty
Is liberating
Is when you’ve got your own apartment

Hollow
Empty living room
Empty dining room
Empty bedroom
Empty bathroom
Hollow
Hello new space
Hollow
Hallelujah
Hollow
Never felt so good to be
Hollow

First time on my own
Might as well be a new home
I turn over leaves, As they turn over stone
New seeds are sown
No need to raise my tone
Hollow doesn’t have to feel alone

Hollow
Empty Walls
Empty Cabinets
Empty Closet
Empty Fridge
Hollow
Hello new space
Hollow
Hallelujah
Hollow
Never felt so good to be
Hollow

Dear Unsealed,
I have learned so many things about life. I will be 75 years old on September 18, 2024. I have seen it all, the good, the bad, the ugly and still move forward with life for as long as I can live out my life with my disabilities of getting old. My brain works well, but my body has slowed down a lot since I had covid 2021.
The major life lesson I have learned is that I should not let guys talk me into fast romance or marriage or moving in on the third date. That may sound ‘wacky,’ but it truly is more helpful to not be boy crazy beginning at 8 years old. I had my first boyfriend at 8 years old. His name was Eric. He was in my second-grade class. We were friends so I thought, then he broke up with me. I ran into my parents’ house crying like a baby. Mom thought that I was physically hurt. I yelled at her, “Mom, Eric broke up with me. He told me to leave him alone. He did not like me. My hair was too curly. I was so upset, mom, I peed in my pants.” Mom looked at me rolling her eyes, tossed her head back, “My dear child, it’s going to be okay. Eric and his parents are moving to New York City next week. Eric broke up with you because he is a baby too and that is the only way he knew to move without hurting you. You have your whole life ahead of you, Vicki.” I sighed, “Okay mom.”
Growing up in eight decades, I kept falling in love and out of love not learning my lessons. My advice to the world is to continue your education. Do not let a ‘dude’ talk to you out of going to college. Do not let jealous people knock your dreams into the dirt. More than once the person trying to crush your dreams is a jealous, fearful person who does not care about you. Follow your dreams of life and focus on yourself as a woman. One needs to love oneself to fully love someone another human being as to live with another human being.
I was raped at 16 years old by five guys on the football team. I had to sweep it under the rug and try to wash away the scariest party night I had ever experienced. The guys were calling me an Indian squaw, stupid ‘whore’, and yelling, “You are no good.” I was devastated.
I kept dating men but had not learned the lesson that I did not need a man.
I studied art, journalism, Business union management, computers, and other subjects of interest. Boys were always barking up my tree. I should have been pickier or just lived by myself.
I married in the 80s. I had no plans for marriage at 30 nor to have children at that time. He swindled me into marrying him and having babies. The lesson I learned from that disastrous marriage is we had nothing in common and I should have ignored the ‘dude’.
We divorced, but I remarried an artist this time. That ended in April 2000 in domestic violence,
After we divorced, I had all these musicians barking up my alley. I followed one to Austin, Texas. I left an excellent job in computers with good retirement. He moved back to LA, and I stayed because my auntie was in her 90s and I wanted to be with her. A lesson from this is my family in Austin were strangers to me. I had not seen them in 40 years. Never move across country on a whim to follow a ‘dude’ to his destiny when it’s probably not your destiny. Check your family out that are strangers and only remember you as a little curly headed throwing tantrums child. Just because they are family does not mean they are your best friend.
I got involved with a ‘dude’ who moved in with me after the third date. I do not advise anyone to do that. I collaborated with the man.
My letter will end here as the chapters of my life are extensive with heartache, pain, joy, laughs, and life ‘happens’ experiences.
My final note to the world is, “As a woman please do not let men interfere with your beauty or your well-being. If they show one bit of jealousy or start dictating your life to you, walk away before the years pass and you say at 74, “OMG! I wish I would ‘of’ or could ‘of’ known about life before all those broken relationships of wrongdoing men ever came into fruition. Watch for red flags to not get involved with a narcissist person period.”

A Message Through Time
Marli Wright

If I could send a message across sea to shining sea,
How would I convey my advice in just one piece?
What have I learned in this short life so dear,
That is important for everyone to hear?
I suppose it would be to cherish each moment,
The good, the bad, and those moments hard to bear.
Laugh and be present, and cry in your grief,
Follow your dreams and never look back in disbelief.
Love with a heart that fears nothing at all,
Give freely of yourself and let others give in return.
Hug your loved ones tighter each day,
And thank God for another moment they stay.
Cherish the heartbeat of an unborn child,
Learn from the old soul, who offers a final smile.
Take it from someone who has loved and lost,
This unbearable grief of a child’s loss.
Live each moment as if they can see,
And make yourself proud of the person you’d want them to be.
Remember, in an instant, life can be gone,
So cherish it deeply before it’s withdrawn.