Dear Me.

Dear Me at the end of 2024,

Oh, you sweet naive thing. You really went through it this year. Some of it you saw coming, some of it was a total blindside. All of it hurt.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart by Taylor Swift was somewhat of an anthem for you this year. You ran to it, cleaned to it, drove down lonely roads to it, did laundry to it.

“I cry a lot but I am so productive, it’s an art.”

And while I’m sorry for how many tears there were, I’m so proud of all you were able to survive, accomplish, and do in spite of them.

So. Here we are. A year ending in a way you didn’t want. A year where you’re looking around at a lot of rubble instead of things you built. It kind of just sucks. And that’s okay to say.

But. 

It’s time to dream again. To take care of yourself again. To hope again. To try again. 

When it’s done, you won’t care how long it took you. You’ll just be happy you did it. 

You’ll just be happy you did it. 

Wrote it. 

Built it. 

Healed it.

So let’s do it. 

Dear me at the end of 2025, 

I hope you are living each day with the lightness and peace you have spent your year fighting for. I hope that the things that seem so heavy as I’m writing this on the first day of the year are distant memories now. I hope you have loved and hoped and given and rested and worked and lived with all your might and an open heart. 

I am writing this from not the best place, but I am looking forward, and I have so much belief in you. I have so much hope in you. I have so much faith in you. I know you can do it. 

I hope you wrote a book. I hope you traveled beautiful places. I hope you savored each season with your son. I hope you loved, loved, loved – people and places and coffees and meals and movies and books. 

I hope you created a life you love.