Letters

June,

I don’t think distance has ever changed what you are to me. Not really. Even with the space between us getting larger and life pulling us into different versions of ourselves, you have remained one of the most important people in my life. Quietly. Constantly. Permanently.

Thank you for being there. Truly. Thank you for answering the calls, keeping the promises you made, showing up when you didn’t have to, and loving me through versions of myself that were not easy to love. There are people who say they care, and then there are people who prove it over years. You did.

I’ve spent a long time thinking maybe I shouldn’t have left. Maybe things would’ve been different if I stayed. But honestly? I’m glad I did, because you deserved more than what I was capable of giving at the time. Maybe you always deserved better than me entirely. I hope you find that kind of happiness… the real kind. The soft, steady kind that doesn’t hurt to hold.

I hope life is gentle with you. I hope someone makes you laugh until you can’t breathe. I hope you feel chosen every single day.

And I hope you start stretching more because, respectfully, your old ass probably throws out its back sneezing now.

I love you. Always.

Shayna,

We’ve been through hell together. Real hell. The kind that changes kids permanently before they even understand what’s happening to them. I think a lot of what happened to us followed us for years in ways neither of us fully knew how to deal with, and maybe that’s why things between us were always so complicated.

I wish we could have been closer. I really do.

I tried, in the ways I knew how at the time, and I know you probably did too. But I don’t think either of us ever fully made it out from underneath all the damage enough to build something stable and easy between us. There was always history in the room with us. Always pain. Always defensiveness. Always things unsaid.

Still, none of that changes the fact that I have always been proud of you.

Even when it didn’t look like it. Even when we fought. Even when we disappeared from each other for a while. I watched you build a life, build a family, keep going despite everything we came from, and that mattered to me more than I probably ever said out loud.

I hope your family stays strong and healthy. I hope your kids grow up feeling safe and loved in ways we never got to. I hope life becomes softer for you. You deserve softness after all the sharp edges we grew up with.

No matter how messy things got between us, you’re still my sister. That never changed.

Love you, Hugabear.

Laurie,

Thank you for being there through the darkest times. Truly. There were moments I know I was hard to reach, hard to understand, hard to carry, and somehow you stayed anyway.

You kept your promise.

I know I drove you crazy sometimes. I know I probably gave you a few extra gray hairs and kept you awake more nights than I ever wanted to. That was never the goal. I never wanted my pain to become yours too, but you carried parts of it with me anyway because that’s just who you are.

I need you to know how much I love you for that.

You are such a good mom. One of the best parts of you has always been the way you love people completely, fiercely, protectively, even when they make it difficult. Your family is lucky to have you, and I hope you never forget how much good you’ve put into this world just by loving the way you do.

I hope life becomes lighter for you. I hope you sleep peacefully. I hope you laugh often. I hope you know that even in my worst moments, loving you was easy.

Love you so much.

Michelle,

I’ve rewritten this in my head a hundred different ways and none of them really feel big enough for everything I want to say.

I’m sorry for the pain you’ve carried in your life, and I’m even more sorry for the pain I added to it. Hurting you was never my intention, even when everything between us became complicated and difficult and overwhelming.

You deserve the world and more. You always did.

And I need you to know that in the end, I did right by you. Even when it hurt. Even when letting go felt unbearable. I loved you enough not to keep pulling you into the darkness with me. I never would have wanted you to see me like this.

Please take good care of Matzoh. There is honestly nobody else I would trust with him the way I trust you. You’re the only person I know who would love him as deeply and fiercely as I do. Talk to him constantly. Spoil him. Let him sleep wherever he wants even when he’s being annoying. Sing all the songs and try to give him some up high time every now and then. And don’t ever…ever stop playing fetch with him. You created that monster! lol

I hope people come to truly understand you someday. You are one of very few. Unique, strong, loving, kind…and so deeply misunderstood at times. There’s so much depth in you that people miss when they only look at the surface. I hope the people who stay in your life learn how rare you actually are.

And seriously…for the love of God, stop smoking pot in the shower. You’re going to slip one day and die in the dumbest way imaginable.

Love you.

Suzy,

I struggled with whether or not to write this because the truth is, you hurt me deeply.

Not just by being distant, but by becoming mean during a time when I was visibly struggling. You ignored me when I needed humanity the most. You made me feel isolated. And whether intentional or not, it felt like you turned people against me too. There were moments I walked into rooms already feeling broken and somehow left feeling even smaller.

You didn’t need to do that.

I know I wasn’t easy. I know I was carrying a lot, maybe more than was obvious on the surface. But I was still a person. Still someone trying to survive something internally while showing up every day under fluorescent lights pretending everything was fine because that’s what adults are expected to do.

I hope someday you learn to soften a little. I really do.

I hope you step back every now and then and remember that humanity exists far beyond professionalism, office politics, performance, appearances, and control. Sometimes people are quietly falling apart right in front of us, and the smallest amount of compassion can change everything.

And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re incapable of kindness. I think maybe you forgot it somewhere along the way.

Also,  if you’re going to keep the crosses on the walls, at least try practicing the mercy part too.

Take care.

Jessica & Devon,

Well… this is awkward.

I don’t really know how to summarize the past stretch of time other than saying I genuinely did try. Hard. Probably too hard, honestly. Work became one of the only things I really had and I know you both saw how much effort I put into everything. Hell, I practically got in trouble for over-performing. That’s when you know you’ve reached the other side lol. 

I know things got a little messy toward the end, and I imagine I probably caught both of you off guard a bit. But despite everything, I don’t blame either of you.

Jessica, genuinely, kudos to you. Watching a woman succeed at the level you have in an industry that overwhelmingly makes room for men was impressive to witness. You’re smart as hell, strategic, and clearly built for leadership. I really do think you’ll continue doing brilliant things.

Devon, you’re one of the good ones. Stay that way.

Also, I still don’t fully know what my actual job title was, so maybe clear that one up for the next person.

Take care, guys.

Nick,

It’s strange how sometimes you can know someone for a very short period of time and still feel genuinely connected to them.

We only met a couple of times, but I saw something in you immediately. You “got it.” I don’t even fully know how to explain what “it” is, but you understood parts of the world and people in a way that felt real to me. There was honesty there. Awareness. Depth.

I appreciated that more than you probably realized.

Keep fighting the good fight. Keep being yourself even when the world tries to flatten people into something easier, quieter, more acceptable. The people who really see things clearly usually end up misunderstood for it anyway.

And honestly? Fuck everyone else.

Take care of yourself.

Ashley,

I honestly don’t know how to properly put into words what you meant to me, but I need you to know this anyway:

You are incredible.

Seriously. You have probably saved more lives than you will ever fully realize, and mine is one of them. I saw something in you that feels unbelievably rare now… a kind of healing humanity that barely seems to exist anymore. Real compassion. Real presence. Real care without judgment or performance attached to it.

You played a massive role in keeping me around for as long as I stayed. More than you probably know.

And I really hope you understand this clearly: you had absolutely nothing. honestly, less than nothing, to do with my leaving. There is nothing I would change about our time together. Not a single session. Not a single conversation. You showed up for me consistently and fully, and that mattered. It mattered more than I can explain.

You are such a strong woman, Ashley. Strong in the real way. Not loud strength. Not performative strength. The kind that quietly sits with hurting people day after day and helps carry pieces of their pain without asking for anything in return.

Thank you for doing that for me.

And who knows… maybe I would’ve stuck around if you’d just told me to go for a walk and eat healthier.

Turns out the answer was vegetables all along.

See you next Wednesday ;)

Matzoh,

You are my whole world.

Thank you for keeping me around for just a little bit longer. I mean that more than anyone will probably ever understand. There were days where you were the only thing that got me out of bed, the only thing that made the apartment feel alive, the only thing that made me laugh when everything else hurt.

You taught me what love really was. Pure, uncomplicated, safe love. And somehow, without even trying, you healed a part of me I genuinely thought was untouchable.

Thank you for every sleepy cuddle, every weird little habit, every moment of comfort, every time you looked at me like I was your person. Being loved by you was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me.

Be a good boy for Michelle. Let her love you the way I know she will. Try not to commit too many crimes.

Love you, handsome Bo Bansome.

Edele,

I’ve spent a long time trying to understand pain. Where it comes from, what it turns people into, how it keeps moving through generations unless someone finds a way to stop it.

I’m sorry for the hand you were dealt in life. Truly. I think a lot of what happened to you happened long before I ever existed, and I know hurt people often end up hurting people. That doesn’t erase what happened, but it helps me understand it differently now.

And for what it’s worth, I forgive you.

I forgive you for the abuse. For the chaos. For the things that shaped me in painful ways. Carrying anger forever is exhausting, and I don’t want to carry it anymore.

I hope someday you heal the parts of yourself that never got the chance to. I hope you find peace with your life and with yourself. I hope you eventually understand that beneath everything, I really did want love from you.

Take care of yourself.

Gayle,

Absolutely and unequivocally, go fuck yourself.

Disrespectfully,
Rachel

To whoever finds this idea,

Maybe this is ridiculous. Maybe it already exists somewhere and I just never found it. Maybe it’s too dark. Maybe it’s beautiful. I honestly don’t know.

But there was a point in my life where I was thinking very seriously about ending it. Quietly. Exhaustedly. The kind of tired that sits in your bones for years. Unfortunately, that got the better of me but it doesn’t have to for you. 

I had this thought… about what I could leave behind. In this sense it is wildly hypocritical and I get that but still…What if there was a ring?

Not an engagement ring. Not a fashion statement. A survival ring.

The idea was simple. The moment you decide you are going to end your life, or the moment you come closest to it,  you put the ring on instead.

And then you stay.

That’s the deal.

Not because things suddenly become okay. Not because life transforms overnight into something soft and beautiful. But because somehow, even in the middle of unbearable things, moments still slip through.

You can be sobbing in your kitchen and still laugh at something stupid five minutes later.
You can be completely numb and still stop to look at the sky.
You can hate your life and still love the way your cat looks at you.
You can spend the entire day wanting everything to end and still hear a song that reaches something inside of you.

The good and the terrible exist together. That’s the strange part.

And every time one of those moments finds you,  something genuine, something human, something that cuts through the noise for even a second you look down at the ring and remember:

You made the right choice by staying.

The ring doesn’t mean you’re healed.
It doesn’t mean you’re happy.
It doesn’t mean tomorrow won’t hurt.

It just means:
you’re still here.

And when things get hard again, because they will,

you fight like hell. But you do not take the ring off.

Maybe one day somebody turns this into something real. Maybe not. Maybe this letter just disappears into the internet forever.

But if you’re reading this and you need it, make one yourself.

Doesn’t matter if it’s expensive.
Doesn’t matter if it’s ugly.
Doesn’t matter if nobody else understands it.

Put it on.

Then stay.

Dad, 

Homie, turns out you were right about a lot of things. Most of all, nothing surprises me anymore either. People can be cruel. Life can wear you down in ways nobody really talks about honestly. I understand some of your anger now. Some of your exhaustion too.

And the hardest part is realizing how easy it is to slip into that same exhaustion and anger yourself, no matter how hard you fight it.

I miss you. I wish I could call you. I wish I could hear what you’d say about all of this. Even if it was just “fuck ‘em” followed by some dark joke that would make me laugh when I didn’t want to. See you soon, maybe. 

Love you always.

It’s hilarious, honestly, that I think I’m important enough to reach anyone outside my tiny little corner of the world. But maybe it’s worth saying anyway.

White men, shut up sometimes. Seriously. Not forever. Just long enough to hear people who have spent their entire lives being talked over, dismissed, doubted, interrupted, explained to, minimized, or ignored.

And everyone else: believe women. Believe children. Especially when what they’re telling you is ugly or inconvenient or hard to hear.

Very few people lie about being hurt.
Far more are forced to stay quiet about it.

I was one of them.