Keep going, the theme of 25
We didn’t think we’d make it, past 25, let alone to 2025.

Keep going.

A Goal is nothing without a plan.
2024 was spent planning,
2023 was spent learning,
2025 is filled with goals

Goal 25,
Be around more people.
Goal 24,
Advocate for me more.
Goal 23,
Make more memories.
Goal 22,
Learn freedom without a car.
Goal 21,
Finish my book.
Goal 20,
Make amends.

Keep going.
Goal Post 25.

But remember,
Life is the journey, not the destination.
Allow the goalpost to change and give yourself grace in the face of it all.

Goal Post 25

Dear Unsealers,

2024 has had a lot in store for many of us, I am sure.

It is nothing compared to 2023, which shattered some hopes and some dreams for me.

In 2023, I said goodbye to past versions of myself, but with them went parts of my little family. They passed away only one year ago. It took some time to process all that, and I’m not quite sure I am done at this point.

In 2024, something different in me woke up. I saw things differently, new things I hadn’t felt, old feelings too. PTSD does bring its blues. I may not be great, at least not just yet. But I’ve told myself again and again that I’ll spend my life trying to be the best version of myself.

2024 is my favorite memory.

I’ll feel this one for sure because it has given me the space to address some old wounds and heal. It’s given me memories and moments an old me would have wanted. 2023 was filled with a lot of pain for me—many times tested, many nights alone. Everything will all be worth it in the end.

So today, when you ask me what my favorite memory of 2024 was, I’d say every day, in every way. But if I had to choose just one, it would be when I turned 26. I’ve never liked my birthday, and I probably never will. But when I turned 26, something in me clicked. I was so sure I’d expire before the age of 25, so sure, in fact, that it was hard to imagine myself past my 20s. But I made it to 26, and some days past that.

2024 is my favorite memory of 2024.
I wouldn’t say this year is easy.
But it hasn’t been the most challenging year yet.

Dear Mars, my girl…

It’s been a tough 26 years, huh?
Your biological mother was on drugs and drinking for seven months of her pregnancy with you and had five abortions before you.
Your biological father was in prison, also on drugs when he came out, and the abuse toward you? Physical, sexual, and mental. Only a monster is capable of that.

How are you?

I know you were adopted by your grandparents, who raised you. You called them Mom and Dad. That was an easy transition, but wait… wasn’t your dad diagnosed with cancer? And when he passed, didn’t your mother give up on you and the routines that kept you “normal”? Didn’t she become abusive herself? Calling you names, telling you you were just like your biological father, her son, who you once saw beat her within an inch of her life? How tragic, the person who was supposed to love you… saying such nasty, cruel things. You were compared to the person who abused you… you aren’t him. You were never him. No matter what she said.

Dad’s cancer was rough, and losing him was a lot rougher. You got that tattoo, though. Only one still, huh? Yeah, figures. Even though you weren’t granddad turned dad and granddaughter turned daughter by blood, you took after him. Maybe that’s why Mother sometimes used you as an emotional crutch.

You’re an adult now. A mid-twenties adult at that! After trying to take your life thrice and beating the odds of being your parents… you managed to make it further than I expected. And I’m grateful for you.

I’m grateful that you’re still curious.
I’m grateful that you still believe in love.
I’m grateful that you’re still hopeful.

You still want to help people by telling your story, no matter the mistakes you make or the times you fail. You believe you could be working to “fail” more, but you’re working at your pace. Keep going.

You still want to inspire, entertain, and make people smile.

I’m grateful you are still here. Life hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been easy for anyone, but you’re hopeful that people, humanity, and love remain and that light reigns.

I’m grateful for you because your story is one of millions that has already helped people more than you know.

Mars… I’m grateful for you.
Keep being you.

You’re not stuttering like you used to; well, I guess still you do
But it isn’t what we’re used to.

You’re not going nonverbal… well, I guess you still are.
But that’s okay; we know it now, and sometimes it’s cute.

But really?

You’re not sitting in a corner drooling,
Like the doctors said, you would.
Every specialist and therapist was sure,
of the quality of life to be lived.

Keep speaking,
Keep learning,
Do your reading and writing, too.
You know these things help you.

It’s okay to cope, but don’t forget to breathe.
This world is scary, but you can be full of glee.

And hey…
I’ll keep protecting the girl you never got to be

Dear Mom… I’m sorry about my last letter.
Guess that was a big event for you too, huh?

Our last words will be our last.
I can’t tell you all I want to say, I want to, but I can’t.
Least not to your face, like always.

I miss you, I love you. I’m sorry.
A thousand times sorry, I had to go, I had to.

2021 was his 10th anniversary, and for each of those years, I did my best.
I was still a child, Mom. Where did you go…? Why were the walls of your room better than being with me? I wasn’t your natural born, and I sure know that now… She made sure of that.

I’m sorry about my last letter, Mom. It took months to find the courage. To say goodbye to the only person I ever knew. The meaning I gave my life – taking care of you. You wouldn’t know Mom, I cried myself to sleep for months after it. Wondering if I did the right thing, even though I had everyone’s full support, I tried. I tried. I gave my everything. I tried until I couldn’t.

It ended with us. And I’m the only one left out, like always.
I wanted the best for you, but I wanted the best for me too.
Neither of us was that.

I tried until my detriment, I tried. You were my world.
It has been some time, but life is better now,
and like before, it will get better again.

I miss you Mom, I hope you’re doing well.
I think about you almost every day.

I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, I know why…
Every day I wish I could come back, to when it was good.
Somewhere you started hating me…
Maybe I had too much of my biological father in me, I don’t know.
You did often compare us two, while I was growing up.
What did you see in me, that made you hate me…

Maybe I’ll write again, there’s still so much left to say. My letters will be to you like they are to Dad. Addressed to the void and the stars. Words left unsaid.

Even in those unsaid words, I can say things are better, I can say I still love you, I can say I miss you. Goodbye Mom, until we meet in the void again.

Dear Mother and self,

When I was just a girl I asked my mother what the point of life was, she told me that the point of life is to experience it, experience it in every way imaginable. From the highest highs to the lowest lows, experience is the point of life.

Mother knows best, maybe an old cliche, but on this, she is right, you know:

The point of life is not the car you drive,
But the people you drove to meet with it.
The point of life is not the money you make,
But the moments you created with it.

It’s not the car that gave me experience, but the memories and moments that came with it:

“Dad’s Truck” came with its own set of nuanced experiences.
– “That Star” I still see in the sky, was a shared moment in the bed of my blue truck,
“The hardest day” will remain a stain on my bones, materials were lost, but never the memories made.

Experience is the point of life, not the money earned or the things we’ve lost. Experience increases in value, while your penny today could be crypto tomorrow. Is it money earned or time spent earning it that you remember the most?

Because for me, I’ve lived a full life with highs and lows, when experience was my only friend. I’ve ridden the waves of beautiful and ugly. The biggest lesson I’ve ever learned – life is experience: the good and the bad mixed in a swirling vortex of individualized experience.

Write, write, write!
Letter by letter
Press by press
Line by line, each dot connects.

Write, write, right?
You did it, you did,
Every key typed in
Every lettered line is drawn tight.
Writing done right.

In books, on pages,
In emails and spaces
A mark you have left for the ages.

Online, offline, books, or naught
A writer, you are, but forget you should not.