What do you say when the apology comes.
And what they did to you is not ok?
When forgiveness isn’t so easily given
What do you say when the apology never comes–
When you’re the one who gets to write the narrative.
When you need to dig deep and learn how to write your way from survival to freedom.

I loved you before you saw me, before our eyes locked, when we shared a heartbeat. I dreamed of you. I imagined what you would look like when I held you in my arms for the first time. I never realized that I would have to break our bond so that you could thrive.
You see, I had a monster that followed me. He broke my heart and he broke my bones.
My spirit was the last to go when he attacked my beautiful dreams of raising you with your brothers and sister. The very thought of the monster finding us, and involving you, drove a sword deep into my chest and pierced my heart. Your innocence had to be protected. I searched my soul and found you a promising Mother and Father.
I knew they would protect you, that they would teach you to be the best man there ever is/ was. I trusted them to love you, and to honor our precious bond. Things turned out so terribly wrong for me. I’m deeply grateful that everything is amazing for you. Except that my heart broke into a thousand mini pieces the day that I had to say goodbye to you. In the rain, as they wheeled me out of the hospital holding your car seat so close to my heart your beautiful eyes locked onto mine. I felt so ashamed. I loved you so much my beautiful Son. I handed you over to your the wonderful man that was to become your Father. I believe in that moment, I felt my heart snap. You started to cry, and suddenly everything I thought I was doing that was right felt so terribly wrong. I think that it was the breaking of what had been our bond. I never saw you again. They had to move far away, and they told me that they would let me be a part of your life, but you still do not know me. I only receive pictures of you on Christmas, and sometimes your birthday. I never quite understood how a heart could be broken by a situation, yet coming to a realization of the situation being a blessing in disguise would make it whole again.
That will make no sense at all to many, all that matters is that I know what I am saying. It’s not an “adoption” they are your guardians, yet they are your Mother, and Father to me. However; You are still my Son too. I don’t want to confuse you so I stay far away. I open your pictures when I receive them, and I pray. I hope that one day, you will understand that they needed you, and WE needed them. I am kind of your mother, I love you more that you will ever know. I just hope our bond is strong enough that you will not be harmed by my decision to give you the world while mine was quaking and crumbling with fear and unstableness. They gave you everything that I could not. I love you…

Dear whomever;

I became a teacher to shift the paradigm and break the chains of toxic tradition. My childhood education experience paralleled that of Matilda. Most all my teachers were more Trunchbull and less Honey with the exception of 2 up through high school graduation and gaining another 4 up through my masters program. When I decided to become a teacher, I wanted to be a Ms. Honey, I wanted to be what I so desperately needed as a child—And I did. My biggest flex is that I became the adult I needed, the teacher, the mom, the neighbor. But here’s what they don’t tell you: the cost of becoming a chain breaker, a paradigm shifter, a warrior, a Ms. Honey is expensive. Its loneliness, its heartbreak, its rage, frustration, anxiety, and despair.

As an educator, you often hear: “Know your why”, “remember your why”, “it’s for the kids.” And while this is absolutely the truth and it does help keep focus; it does nothing to shield the abuse hurled from those satisfied, or even winning, with the mediocrity of tradition. My fellow educators are overwhelmed, defeated, and burnt out. This leaves no energy for change because change is hard work and dedication. I have found that very few admin appreciate growth as well. The worse abuse I have ever faced in education, is from principals and assistant principals. Those in power, when there is perceived threat of losing control or power become the most dangerous. It takes an unusual strength to stand in an abusive environment and feel unscathed. I don’t think I have this strength.

I feel guilty because I think about leaving the education career. Yes I have thought about changing districts and schools- unfortunately, in my experience toxicity is everywhere and the unknown of new administration is scary. I don’t have much self or energy to give left. I never know when entering a new school environment if when they say things like they are “student centered” or “wanting student advocates” if they actually mean it. My experience has shown that more often these are tokens administration throws out to entice teachers with little to no intention of follow through.

I look at the other Honey’s scattered throughout the US knowing they face similar treatment and I think of how brave and strong they are. I have my master’s degree, I am trauma informed, I’ve completed my national board certification- for absolutely nothing. I don’t have the skin to be unaffected by ill-treatment. I’m not a Trunchbull. But I’m not a Ms. Honey either. I don’t know what I am; I think I’m just finished.

Dear whoever needs a reminder,

At this point in time, you’ve probably heard the term “Gratitude Practice” in pop culture. It centers on looking at the things in your life through a lens of appreciation. It requires an ability to shift your focus and play up the parts of life that we often overlook. Gratitude practice for me has been a long developing perspective shift, but the benefits have been unparalleled. Practicing gratitude in my daily life allows me to stay present, but it also helps me reflect on bigger moments with an appreciation for the work I’ve done. From a bird’s-eye view, I am able to solidify the reality of all I have to be grateful for.

Graduating with my bachelor’s in psychology at the beginning of the pandemic scared me into thinking that I would never get to do the type of work I had been dreaming of. Schools were closed. Volunteer programs halted. And I felt that I would be stuck working in restaurants for the rest of my life.

It’s hard to see the path forward when your head is down.

But being grateful for all that I did have around me, recognizing the efforts I put in to get there, being coupled with people assuring me that my degree wasn’t going to waste helped me see that a bump in the road or a change of plans doesn’t mean you should throw your life course out the window. So as soon as I could, I started substituting in classrooms again. And during one of my subbing escapades, I stumbled upon an open position in a classroom that felt like exactly what I had been working towards.

Now Monday through Friday, for 7 hours a day, I get to connect with a small group of high school students in an Emotional Disturbance class.

I get to teach them in ways no one ever took the time to. I get to expose them to ways of thinking and opportunities that they don’t typically have access to. I get to be a witness to real growth. And I get to learn more about myself through their own special personalities. I have never woken up consistently excited to go to work until this past year. I feel gratitude every day I drive to work, every time I see my students faces, and every time I think of how much I wanted this.

“Stop and smell the roses.” It’s one of the best things you can do for yourself. Certainly not every day with my students is a magical transformation. Some days feel like quite the opposite. But in the grand scheme of things, I know that I am exactly where I want to be. Connecting and guiding. At the intersection of growth and patience.

My students remind me that life is not an uphill battle, as much as it may feel that way sometimes. By being grateful for your progress, you can acknowledge that what you have now is what you once wanted. Use this as fuel for the present as much as you use it as fuel for your future.

Dear World,

I will admit sometimes I complain. Some days, I am grumpy and exhausted and feel the world’s weight on my shoulders. When I am knee-deep in those moments, I often go for a walk or rollerblade by the beach, where I look around and take a breath, and I am quickly reminded of how lucky I am. There are so many reasons I have to possess tremendous gratitude for my life.

I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the country, with a roof over my head and food for every meal. A few years ago, I discovered my purpose and was able to start and pursue a business that speaks to my soul. I am, knock on wood, healthy and happy. Also, I have the most amazing people in my life.

My mom calls me daily to check in, asking, “What are you doing? How’s your day.” She always wants to make sure I am happy and at my best. Throughout the week, you can catch my father sharing all my business social media posts, bursting with pride, and doing whatever he can to support my dreams. My big brother, Andrew, is my lifeline. He gives me the best advice, personally and professionally. He has a way of looking at my life challenges through a clear and logical lens and can always guide me. My friends are loving, supportive, and just a phone call away. Some proofread my writing, give me business tips, or listen to me for hours talk about whatever I need to get off my chest. They want nothing more than to see me live my best life. And my boyfriend is the kind of partner that will surprise me and bring back my favorite meal. He will play with my dog and have dinner with my parents on nights when I know he has a ton of work to do. His thoughtfulness makes it clear that he genuinely cares about me.

All the people in my life make me feel loved, supported, and joyful. My circle is the source of my strength, as I am flooded with positive energy and kindness. I know that my family and friends will never let me fall too far or hard. So while the universe has blessed me in so many ways, what I love most about my life are the people I am fortunate enough to share it with.

Love,

Never in a million years would I have ever thought it would be YOU.
To bring my heart so much pain like throwing salt on an open wound
You were my why and one of the most special gifts from God that I truly admired.
Wanting the best life for you gave me reason to work harder.
I wanted to be the mother to you that I always longed for and
what was once a blessing now seems like a curse
Oh, how I never thought the tables would turn.
Though I will always love you my heart resembles a broken glass and
Though pain and disappointment has cut me so deep
I just cover it up with a mask.
How could you say you love me yet cause me so much pain
I’m constantly worried and praying for you.
while you’re out without a care in the world dancing in the rain
When you sit back and reflect on your life
All of your happiest moments were due to MY sacrifice.
Now I’m lucky if you would even consider my advice
You have transformed from my baby, my first love
To a person that’s intentionally toxic in my life and
As I try to figure out what caused this change I have yet to figure out why
But as much as you have hurt me
I cant find it in my heart not to love you
Just know my objective was always to the best mom I could ever be to you
But with the results I see I count it as a mission failed
But I know God can change anything.
So in the meantime, I’m waiting for him to prevail.

It’s about to get personal here. You’ve been with me for way too long. You’ve torn down my self-confidence, you’ve creeped into the narratives that I tell myself, you have kept me grounded and not in a good way, but in a self-isolating way, you’ve even made a place for yourself in my beliefs. You have long outstayed your welcome and you need to leave now.

I was listening to a podcast recently on shame and I found the hosts definition of shame interesting. Shame was defined (on this podcast at least) as wanting to receive love, affection, and affirmation from someone, but not receiving that love in the presence of others. I remember one of my earliest memories of shame creeping in was in 4th grade. A classmate had quite a hatred towards me, though I don’t recall doing anything to her to make her hate me. Anyways, she put a death threat in my desk. I came to school that day and found it on top of my books and folders. The girl who wrote it came all too perfectly at the exact moment I found it, grabbed it out of my hands and ripped it up (a tactic she employed so she wouldn’t get in trouble). I decided to try and tell the teacher what happened, but without proof she didn’t believe me. I was depressed the whole day and she noticed and asked what was wrong and I told her again what had happened. But she didn’t believe me. I wanted and needed to hear the affirmation that it wasn’t my fault. That someone was on my side and that they were going to help me when this felt like too much for me to handle on my own. My younger self was forced to ask the question “why me?” And even though I understand now that hurt people hurt people, but I still ask “why?” 4th grade me thought the teacher would at least call my parents to let them know what had happened, but since she didn’t believe me she didn’t believe there was a reason to call my parents. Shame is what kept me from telling them. Shame thrives in secrecy and self-isolation.

It’s taken me years of hard work, therapy and tears to realize that a lot of the healing process includes grieving. I’ve realized that breaking up with you will be beneficial for me. One of my favorite pump up songs “Favorite Sound” by Echosmith says “[I] shouldn’t apologize for just existing…..shouldn’t apologize for just being me…….I’m learning how to turn around all the voices in my head I think I’ve found my favorite sound.” My favorite sound is me writing you this letter. My favorite sound is me unlearning all the lies you told me, like that I was unlovable and that there must be something wrong with me. My favorite sound is me learning that I am loveable after all. I’m learning the joy of just being me. I’m learning that I was not wrong, I was was just someone who had wrong done to them and didn’t know what to do. And I will continue putting the sound of self-love on replay over and over and over until it becomes natural for me.

But shame your soundtrack is being deleted. Hasta freaking la vista. Goodbye and good riddance shame. You don’t rule anymore.

Truthfully,

Parenting reveals a love in you that you never knew exist. Thats the real definition of love at first sight sealed with a gentle kiss. You have this new human that soley belongs to you now you can finally put a face to them kickball kicks you felt in your womb. Everything changes in a instant and you are officially titled a mom, and the weight that comes with this title automatically mentally mentions that you are STRONG. But may I full warn you that you have a long road ahead and there are many things you will experience especially when you are not prepared. Its levels to this parenting process that you will surely go through, but every child is different so best wishes to you. No matter what you must keep the faith and don’t give up because abandonment is not a option no matter how many nerves they grow up and pluck. Its attending games, recitals and graduations and planning birthdays and sleepovers that make the life of parenting feel so rewarding. Not to mention if you are a respected example as a parent they may inquire for your advice and opinion and even share the issues of their heart and their deepest dark secrets. Parenting is trial and error but it’s a mandatory assignment to LOVE. Remember love is a action word and a valid license to serve. Parenting produces memories and is also designed to introduce good habits and sometimes the pointers that you may get from books and pamphlets don’t always make you a great parent. Its dedication mixed with prayer and bullet proof patience and a community of support that’s willing to listen in a conversation and not sit in the judgment seat like there mirrors are windex clean but remind you that you are not alone because we stand as a team. So parenting is a community full of experiences and advice so welcome aboard and buckle up for the ride.

I didn’t think it would be this hard. Accepting the diagnosis of *permanently disabled* The fact is, that I have a brain injury. An invisible injury that no one but myself knows about unless we strike up a conversation. What’s the hardest part? The depression. The untreatable with medication depression. The PTSD and the pains haunt me. When I see another woman my age, so beautiful and fit, so full of energy and life, sometimes I’m hit with grief. Why is that you might ask? The days for me lately have been divided out and measured by how much, or how little energy I have that morning waking up. If my body is screaming at me or being kind to me. It all depends. I proudly carry the badge of a domestic violence survivor, but inside my invisible bruises smother my light as the depression tries to take over. My Dr told me that I was beautifully broken. My heart and my brain agree. I just want to be free from the sadness. It feels impossible. Be “mindful” they say. As the tears pour down my face. I hold on for dear life these days riding the waves. Learning to live myself again, and nurturing my invisible bruises. 🩶

Dear precious daughter,

I am writing this letter to you with a heavy heart, as I never got the chance to hold you in my arms and tell you how much I love you. You were taken away from us too soon, and it has been a source of immense pain for me and your mother ever since.

I want to apologize to you for not being there for your mother after we lost you. I was in so much pain and felt so helpless that I didn’t know how to be there for her. I thought it was the right thing to do to distance myself from the situation, but looking back, I know that it only made things worse.

My inability to be there for your mother during that time caused a rift in our relationship that led to the eventual breakdown of our marriage. I know that I bear some responsibility for this, and it’s something that I have been carrying with me for a long time.

Losing you left a void in my life that nothing could ever fill. It felt like a part of me had been taken away, and I was unable to find any relief from the pain. But then, one day, you came to me in a dream, and it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

You let me know that you are with me, even though I can’t hold you in my arms. You are here for me in my heart and my soul, and that has brought me some measure of comfort over the years. I still cry for you, thinking about how I wasn’t there for you and your mother when we needed each other the most.

I want you to know that you are loved and missed every day. I know that I can never make up for the pain that I caused, but I promise to honor your memory and carry you with me always.

Love always,
Your Father

I could say I’ve known you forever, but that wouldn’t seem quite right. I guess I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. But even then, I’ve only known you partially. You’ve revealed yourself in different ways over the years and given me new reasons to love you. You’ve made days worth it. You find meaning in the little things and you know how to dress up a dollar. You go out of your way to make things inclusive and memorable. Most of all, you keep trying when you feel like you have no clue what you’re doing or where you are going.

We lose contact every once in a while. Sometimes I think I’ll never be with you again. It’s not like I lost your phone number, or you moved far away. It’s just sometimes I forget you’re there. I forget how to access you. In the past, I’d retreat further and further away before I remembered you exist and how to make contact. But now, I know to reach out a little sooner. You always know what to do and how to make things better.

There’s really no difference between me and you. The separation happens when I compare parts. I look at you as the “healthy version of me” but I should just be seeing me when I’m healthy. Rather than thinking of you as the “me” that I love, I’ll just love me. I’ve learned it’s a lot easier and more genuine to love when you aren’t doing it in parts. So, one day soon, I’ll just love me. After all, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

I’ve been where you are. I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist myself. I don’t think that’s all bad as we are called to excellence. However, it can make life kind of stressful. Your need for perfection can then spiral into overthinking every little move you make, criticizing yourself for things outside of your control, and shame that is totally unnecessary. You look in the mirror to find that your own worst enemy is staring back at you. You worry that if you make one mistake that people will see you as incapable and incompetent. You’ll show them you can do it all. Until you can’t. Suddenly you feel yourself teetering on the tightrope about to plummet to the ground. This was me before the pandemic started. I believed the lie that this rat race world feeds us that we must stay busy, we must produce results. So I took on added responsibility thinking I could juggle it all and also what was going on in my personal life. But really I was on the edge of burnout. My mental health was not good. My work was suffering. I was exhausted. To make matters worse my boss talked to me about my performance without asking what was going on in my personal life that was making it that way. She seemed to see my poor performance as a character flaw rather than the fact that a check engine light was on, and I desperately needed help. Deeply distressed and beating myself up for my mistakes I ended up with a fender bender. Luckily no one was hurt, but inside I was really hurting.

In 2020 the pandemic forced everything to a screeching halt. I went to my parents, house with no idea of how long I was going to be there. My parents and I were all working at home under one roof. The extra family time was a much needed blessing. My schedule usually filled to the brim with things to do was completely open for the first time in a long time. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up doing a lot of thinking and realized that I don’t need to do everything. I am human, I make mistakes and I’m going to continue to. When I do make a mistake I can choose how I respond. I can choose to respond with grace and self-compassion. I don’t have to spiral, I don’t have to walk the tight rope. A mistake doesn’t automatically mean falling. I started to prioritize more and suddenly I was worrying less and less about what others thought about my mistakes and taking the opportunity to let my mistakes teach me a lesson.

Sweetheart I know you want to move mountains and you will. But spiraling won’t get you there. Beating yourself up won’t make you stronger, instead it will tear you down more. You need to learn to rest. You need to learn that your mistakes don’t define you. Learn to embrace your humanity. Learn to love yourself the way that you would love a friend. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of self-forgiveness. You are worthy to live a life that includes mistakes because if you haven’t noticed everyone else is too. When you learn these things you’ll be freer, happier, healthier, and holier. If you don’t hear anything else in this letter hear this; unlike St. Paul, you can’t be everything to everybody, but instead of being your own biggest enemy, you can learn to look in the mirror and embrace yourself in grace and self-compassion.

With love,