This letter is for the boy in me who wanted to be good enough.
I hear you.
I see you.
I still carry you with me.
This is what I’ve learned.

There are moments I’m not proud of: I snap at my daughters for being children. I miss what my wife is really saying, my ego fogging the air between us. I listen to students’ heartfelt confessions and find myself without a way to respond.

Often in the aftermath of these moments, I tell myself, “You should be more. You should be better. You are not enough.”

While I believe these, the great irony is–I continue to convince myself the opposite is true also.

That I am too much.

When I pour my heart out on the page. When I sing at the top of my lungs. When I perform poetry in place of giving a standard order professional presentation.

In preparing to write this letter, I realized that I can’t write to a past version of myself, for these voices still linger; they are present and prevalent still.

And you know what else I realized?

Both of these feelings are two sides of the same counterfeit coin that I keep trying to spend.

I catch myself, too often, trying to deposit these lies into the accounts of my self-worth. I still invest in these illusions. But I’m working to close out that account. To live in the security of truth, not the debt of self-doubt.

It doesn’t come free of charge, to stop paying interest on shame. It takes courage to step away from these stories I’ve both bought and sold–to say: “No more.”

It’s a constant practice—refreshing, reminding, and reimagining—just to put my money where my mouth is, if even for a fleeting moment. Resilience is not found in having it all together. It lives in returning, again and again, to the truth that held you, even when you lost sight of it.

What follows is my reminder: love is the only transaction that transforms us.

I write these lines below for me and everybody else out there consumed by self-sabotage. A bank statement for when we buy into the false narrative of our own definitions.

No more fake news.

Only good news.

So, here’s my memo of our up to date and true credit score:

The screen displays a well-worn message:
Insufficient funds.

And no matter how hard you try,
So long as you keep coming back to this ATM,
You will always get the same message.

If you measure yourself against your potential,
You will focus on your shadow,
Which does nothing but grow as you gaze upon it.
When you allow others to measure your worth,
The numbers won’t add up.
You are not made to fit someone’s bottom line.

Rather,
It’s time to find a new credit union.
No more dealings with shadow bankers of no faith.

Choose the bank that encourages you to
Embrace the brilliant sunshine within.

You are cosmic wonder.
You are the only you in this endless vast universe.
You are loved—
Just as you are.

You can stop the endless spending.
Withdraw from the questions rapid firing through your mind.
Invest in this sacred place
This garden of tranquility
This calm
This balm
This knowledge of your beauty and worth.

You are a human being.
And this means you are meant to dance
Between brilliance and buffoonery.
A mix of
Majesty and mess,
Embodiment and ethereality,
Beauty and blemish,
Bounty and bankruptcy.

Temptation will ask you to label these contradictions as a diminishment of divinity,
As if you have the power to distort something so pure.

It is only in thinking we have this power that we overdraft our account.

It is in taking our own delusional definitions to mean more
Than the breath we share
The dignity which breathes in all
The divine spark that flickers amidst and even despite our forgetfulness.

For after all,
Have you heard of the bank account that cannot be depleted?
Whose currency carries worth through every contradiction?
What collateral secures the sanctity of your soul?

It’s what you were minted for.

It’s the only wealth that cannot be counterfeited.

It’s meant to be received without limit,
and spent without fear.

It’s love.

So, the next time voices—whether within or without—
Try to preach a Gospel of shortcomings,
Do not bow.
Do not bargain.

Let go of that counterfeit coin which never bought you peace anyway.

Letting go in this way is not weakness.
It is the fiercest kind of faith:
Believing you are already worthy
Without proof,
Without profit,
Without performance.

Take this to spend freely instead:
The truth of who you are,
Stamped with love,
Made in the image of enough—
Just as you are.

To the little girl who just wanted to be loved,
It was never your fault. All you wanted to do was make connections. You were so small, with your baby teeth not even loose. You tried so hard, not understanding why you were different. Not understanding what was different. Every word, action, and expression was calculated. Not realizing you were making yourself out to be strange, not knowing why people already thought you were strange. A light was shone, directing you out of the darkness. How were you supposed to know that the light was not from the sun but rather a man made blinding spotlight. Forcing you onto a stage with a cage ready for you. You took the hand that helped you into it, you watched as they closed it for you. Not once did you think to run because the hand squeezed yours, it hurt, but you mistook it for companionship. Comfortably in that cage you embraced the eyes that watched you. You danced to their music with so much love and trust in your heart. Little girl who just wanted to be loved, you could not have known they wanted to hurt you. You did not know the other children who were around did not want to be your friend. How were you supposed to know the adults you were meant to trust did not want to be your friend either. When they grabbed and picked the feathers off of your wings you accepted that pain, you were just happy someone seemed to like them. As your baby teeth fell and new ones grew in, as your hair grew, and your facial features changed slowly the eyes drifted away and you were left in that cage. Oh little girl who just wanted to be loved, you are not so little anymore and yet still can not seem to leave what had never been locked. Around you were so many different people in cages, all different from each other. You reached for them but never dared to step outside. You tried to pull them into your cage, you hurt them. You never meant to, you did not mean to hold on so tightly when they wanted to let go. You did mean to drop them when they decided to try to pull you out. Well little girl who just wanted to be loved, you are not so little anymore and you found someone in a similar cage as you. Not the same, never the same. An arm extends from the nearby cage and it does not try to pull you out. Instead it holds your hand tenderly, so much softer than the hand that led you. You sit at the edge of your cage and they do the same. Holding eachothers hands, helping the other slowly scooch their own way out. It’s hard sometimes and it hurts. Little girl who just wanted to be loved, you are loved more than you know. One day you will fly out of your cage even with all your wounds on your wings and when you do you will see all the people who were waiting for you.

Run

Running from the past like if my stamina could forever last. Sweat dripping down my face letting fear take its place as I run the never ending race. The memories flood my mind why can’t I unbind. Left turn , right turn but when is it my turn. I trip on a curb and come tumbling down letting all the memories drown around. Laying in what used to be my old self I realize this is no longer me and I can finally be free.

Style score 100%

the music plays the song is singing
but the dancers dance away
yet, you’re looking around wondering
“am I enough” you hear the piano

you see the ballet, jazz, modern,
and hip-hop style yet you doubt
yourself “Am I ever too much”
she thinks to herself

but the way your arms and legs
move it’s like you’re made wonderfully
you feel happy when you know
you’re dancing

This is your positive place but yet
you’re in your head questioning
if others are better than you, can they
be? She questions as if that’s a question

you’re not on a beginner level but
you’re sure not advanced intermediate
is what you’re dance coach would place
you and say

yet you’re feeling down about not catching
on to the dance techniques this day no
I mean every day why are you constantly
keep going and going and trying

it’s because you’re passionate but
sometimes passion isn’t enough especially
when you’re in your head questioning
yourself about silly stuff

1 and 2 and 3 and four the counts start
for you to dance but yet you’re still not sure
right or left foot? am I doing it wrong again
she asks herself

Maybe I’m not enough?
Maybe I am just enough
or maybe it’s just
the same 1, 2 and 3
and four stuff

Dearest Little Old Me,

Since I know you never heard this as much as you should have, I want you to know that you were enough. You were always enough.

You were enough at 5 years old when you first met your shadow of anxiety.

You were enough at 10 when your body was being ridiculed as it was changing beyond your control.

You were enough at 13 when the world around you was falling apart and nothing made sense.

You were enough at 16 when you started seeking a glimpse of freedom.

You were enough at 18 when you sacrificed your freedom for what you thought was love.

You were enough at 21 when your friends disappeared and you had to find companionship within yourself.

You were enough at 25 when you felt lost and had given up all hope.

I wish more than anything that the version of you I am now could have given you a mere morsel of hope for the future you would someday have because I know there was so many times it seemed as if your whole world was ridden with despair.

I know how long you lived in a world with an overcast, never given a ray of sunshine long enough to make anything of it.

I know the weight you carried as a child and how that heaviness tries to anchor you in the past.

I know that you were not always dealt cards worth playing, seemingly doomed no matter what move you made.

But…

Every move you made with each card you were dealt guided you to me, who you are now.

You have realized that anxiety does not hold you back unless you allow it to.

You now can seek the validation you need within yourself and do not question if you are worthy.

You now understand your body is capable of incredible things.

You no longer sacrifice freedom for love because the love of your life has gifted you with the freedom to be yourself, unapologetically.

You now see that being your own friend is an advantage and not pitiful.

And you are now able to uncover fragments of hope, even in the darkest of days.

While I hope in reading this you’ve found some comfort, the most important thing you must understand is this:

You were always enough on your own.

You never needed to be any more than what you already were, what you wanted to be.

You were and will always be more than enough.

Please remember that.

Love, Yourself.

Hey you! yes you!
The girl in the dark with trembling hands.
Who never believed she’d one day stand.
Who looked at her reflection and turned away,
Thinking, “No one could love this mess anyway.”

You wore your silence like second skin,
Screaming inside, too afraid to begin.
You broke in secret, stitched with fear,
Hoping no one would see you here.

You begged for crumbs and called it a feast,
Let pain lay beside you and never released.
You gave away pieces to feel some worth,
But lost more of you with every hurt.

I see you now…
Sitting on bathroom floors, knees to your chest,
Whispering, “I ruin everything I touch at best.”
You hated your past, you hated your name,
But girl, you were never the one to blame.

They lied.
You were never too much.
You were never not enough.
You were fired at while under pressure, a diamond in the rough.
You were the scream that never got loud,
The warrior wrapped in a funeral shroud.

But listen to me—
You didn’t die there. You rose.
With scraped-up knees and tear-stained clothes.
You birthed a life from broken bone,
You turned a motel room into a loving home.

You let go of poison, picked up a crown,
Watched dead-end roads start turning around.
You love a man who’s been through war,
And you mother a child you’d die for.

So to the girl who thought she’d never heal,
Who wondered if anything she felt was real…
Look around.
You built this life. You clawed from the pit.
And God? He never gave up on you not one bit.

You are worthy. You are made of so much more.
You are what you fought for.
So I write to you with shaking hands,
To say, “You made it… just as God had always planned.”

And I promise you now with breath and grace,
Your story will never be a thing to erase.
You’re not just enough—
You’re the reason I’m still here.
I love you forever,
Through every scar, every tear.

Love,
Me — The Woman You Fought to Become

I see you, caught between the labels “gifted” and “needs help,” moved from advanced classes to remedial ones, like the system couldn’t quite decide who you were. One moment you’re praised for your potential, and the next you’re pulled out of class, eyes burning with shame as you wonder what you did wrong. You live in a constant state of confusion—too smart to be struggling, but struggling too much to feel smart.

People keep telling you to focus, to try harder, to pay attention. They don’t see how hard you already work, how long you study, or how much effort it takes just to keep up. It feels like no matter what you do, you fall behind. Then you take that college test, certain you’ve passed this time. You walk out proud. When the email arrives with the same failing grade, you don’t just feel disappointed. You feel defeated.

For years, you believed the problem was you.

Everything shifts when you finally sit in a quiet testing room, hoping for answers. When the results come back, you cry. You cry because someone finally sees what you’ve known all along but couldn’t name. You have a learning disability. Dyscalculia. A comprehension disorder. There’s relief in knowing it isn’t your fault. But the diagnosis feels heavy, too, because there is no cure. This is how your brain works, and it always will. There’s no fixing it, only learning how to manage it.

Still, knowing is powerful. Understanding your brain lets you begin to build a life that fits. You ask questions, even if you need to ask more than once. You double-check instructions, reread numbers, and take your time. You stop apologizing for needing clarity. You begin to respect the way you learn.

School becomes possible. You start with a certificate, believing that’s all you’re capable of. Then you keep going and earn an associate’s degree. That success gives you the confidence to keep reaching. Now, you’re back in school again, working toward your bachelor’s. The journey is slow, and sometimes it’s still hard, but it’s yours. And you’re doing it.

I wish more people had seen you clearly. Some teachers tried. Most didn’t understand. They looked at your behavior, not your processing. They saw your mistakes, not the bravery it took to keep showing up.

But you showed up. Again and again. You kept learning. You kept trying. You kept asking to be seen in a world that never made room for how your mind works.

That persistence is intelligence. That resilience is a strength. That courage is enough.

And you were always enough, even when no one told you.

With love,
Me

Style Score 75%

Sami,

If only you could get a glimpse into the future to see everything you are and everything you are becoming. I don’t think you would feel the same way about yourself as you do now.

I know you look at others with admiration, as if you aren’t admirable yourself. I know you compare your body and your personality to those around you, wondering why you don’t look or act like them. You see girls hitting puberty while your chest remains flat and adolescent. Girls are getting boyfriends and you wonder why nobody wants to be with you. The class clown makes everyone laugh and although you have so much humor inside of your head, you are too afraid to let it out. You tell yourself year after year that you’ll go into school and be the person you picture yourself to be in your mind, but the insecurities, doubt, and anxiety keep you silent. You find one person who makes you feel seen and you let that be enough because you don’t feel deserving of more.

You want to know what I see in you? I see a fierce little girl who knows exactly what she wants, regardless of what the world tells her to be. You have fire, passion, and resilience within your blood, allowing you to keep going day after day. There is discipline that keeps you focused on a goal and focused on accomplishing. Although you yearn for a love that you have convinced yourself you are seeing at such a young age, there is something inside of you that knows you deserve more. A little voice within your soul that you follow, even when your brain is much louder. You can feel authenticity in moments and people, and what I see in you is someone who refuses to be anything other than that; authentic. You convince yourself you need to change in order to be better or enough, and when it doesn’t happen you feel disappointed and ashamed, but I see someone who literally cannot be anything other than herself. That is pretty admirable if you ask me.

You make decisions that align with your heart, while others let the world around them influence what they want. You understand the role your past plays and that allows you to make such a deep connection to those you let in. A kind of understanding and empathy most can’t fathom. There is something about you that makes someone feel so seen, yet you refuse to truly see yourself.

These years of feeling unwanted, ashamed, and insecure won’t last forever. It is these very years that will shape you into such a badass woman who is so determined to find a genuine love, that she will fall completely in love with herself and everything she is. A woman that has found so much power in being herself that there is nobody else she admires to be anymore.

You have always been enough, Sami, and you are the only one who needs to believe it.

Dear Worthless,

I call you worthless because that’s what you think you are even if your identity is more complex and intertwined with more love than your trauma originally reflected. You may not see love through the voice of your mother or the actions of your father but within your journey you aren’t walking aimlessly. Your purpose has passion that radiates in rooms where you overlooked the eyes that were mesmerized by your creation. Your writing has a voice of its own that grasps deeper into this world than the hands of demons that blindfolded you from the source of light within your patterned mind. Pause and believe the frequent occurrences when a kind stranger comments on your eyes. Their name is foreign but their impact is familiar. You will wake up and realize how those strangers became love that made you their home. Yes, you have become the home for others while you were searching for your own. You have ignited a safe space in growth accelerated by your faith. You have changed the meaning of chosen, the meaning of anointed, the meaning of blessed. The scars on your arms no longer embody distress. Compromised boundaries have been removed from your portion. Power has elevated in your energy. “They” didn’t love you and even today “they” still don’t. But “we” do. You are worthwhile. You are winds that steal breathes, tears that give rest, catalyst that curated comfort.

Sincerely,

Worthwhile

Dear younger me , I understand now that it wasn’t personal. My father’s love felt performative, meaning if i did not get good grades I felt like he did not love me. I get it education is important, but him criticizing me did not help me one bit. It lowered my self confidence, but that is how he grew up, I suppose, and he did not have the mental and emotional capacity to change. As i got older and started getting exposure to how people actually communicate, i can see my confidence rise. All those dark times in my room ruminated about the pass now i look at the past as a lesson, not a life sentence. No longer dwelling or hyper focusing on what happened but being present with loved ones who loved me when i was not feeling lovable. Closed off emotionally, i did not even know how to show love to those who loved me until recently. I felt it but couldn’t express it, or perhaps I feared it wouldn’t be reciprocated. Often times thought about what if i ran away then the voice of the higher power said not today? Started practicing gratitude and it changed my attitude, no longer seeing life with my victim mentality views. The pain has been melting away for the longest time i suffered with shame but now i find a different way to cope with the highs and lows. Pouring into myself and it feels good, you see. A lesson for anyone with similar upbringing to me, “others’ perception of you, has nothing to do with me”.

 Sincerely the person you prayed for to be one day