A love letter to my younger Self
My dear little struggling Self, I wish you knew that you would make it to your 23rd birthday, and your 24th, and to all the ones after, that this constant fear of dying would eventually be reshaped into deep trust, carrying you further, that the opposite of trauma wasn’t healing, but presence— the constant one you choose over and over again.
I wish you knew that asking for help would become the most powerful act of self-love, and that letting go of people and places that don’t return the soft and loving energy you spread around wouldn’t be a failure, but the protection of the principles that help you outgrow what you no longer need in your life.
I wish you knew that crying whenever you need to isn’t being “overly sensitive,” but being in touch with yourself and with the emotions that need to flow.
And I want you to know that your sensitive, tender heart is the most precious gift you could ever have been given, that having it broken so many times wouldn’t kill you, but would help you accept hurt while not closing yourself off anymore.
Only later would you discover the answer to the question that kept you restless and filled your eyes with tears during those sleepless nights— “What am I here for?” Your soul mission is to feel, my love— to feel all the intensity and rawness of this life, because that’s exactly what makes it worth living.
And I also wish you knew that you didn’t need to chase your soulmate, because one day you would meet people who would make you see the wholeness within you that had been there all along.
You will be understood. You will be seen, heard, and held by the most caring souls. Just hang in there, my love— your time to shine is about to come. You just need to be patient, and I know that’s something you were always good at. I love you.
















