Letter To My Younger Self

I see you.

Sitting quiet in the corner, trying to disappear and be noticed all at once.
Learning early how to keep the peace, how to read the room, how to survive.

I came back for you.

I’m you—older, wiser, softer in some places, stronger in others.
And I just want you to know… you made it.
Every step you took, even the ones that didn’t make sense to anyone else? They brought us here.

They said you were too sensitive.
But you were never too much—you were in tune.
You could feel the unspoken things. You saw what others ignored.
That wasn’t weakness. That was your wisdom waking up early.

They said you were rebellious.
Hard-headed. A runner.
But the truth is—you were trying to protect your own spirit the only way you knew how.
You weren’t running away from love.
You were trying to find a version of it that didn’t hurt.

You didn’t always have the words.
You didn’t always get it right.
But baby—you were doing the best you could with what you had.
And I’m so proud of you for holding on.

I hold the life you used to pray for.
Quiet mornings. A peaceful heart.
A body that feels like home again.
Boundaries that honor us.
People who see us.
And most of all—me.
I see you. I hear you. I got you.

You don’t have to fight anymore.
You can rest now.
You can cry if you need to. Laugh loud. Dance barefoot. Speak freely.
I’ll be the safe place you never had.

So when the old doubts creep in, when you feel like you’re slipping back into the shadows, I want you to pause.
Breathe.
Put your hand on your heart and hear me whisper:

“You are sacred. You are seen. You are safe.”

With all the love we never thought we’d find,
Your Future Self