Letters to My Future Self

As I immersed myself in my daily verses, a profound realization washed over me: so often, we resist our own success. Despite our fervent desires to achieve greatness, fear holds us back. We hesitate to fully embrace the version of ourselves we yearn to become. Why do we stand in our own way? It's a paradox—we yearn for success yet fear it. Perhaps it's the level of commitment required that intimidates us. True success demands unwavering dedication, and that can be daunting. But what I've come to understand over the years is that commitment, though challenging at first, becomes easier with practice. The key, I've discovered, is not just committing to the action itself, but committing to ourselves and our own well-being. Take exercise, for example. We all know the euphoric feeling of a good workout, yet we often find excuses to avoid it. If we shift our commitment from the exercise as a mere tool to our own health and vitality—the feeling of waking up pain-free and energi

  Dear Me, As I sit down to write this letter, I can't help but reflect on the journey that has brought me to this moment. It's a journey marked by struggle, pain, and a relentless pursuit of survival in the face of adversity. Growing up, my life was overshadowed by stress and embarrassment, woven tightly with threads of lack and want. I remember the days when our home was devoid of basic necessities – no lights, scant food, and the constant struggle for water. Washing clothes by hand in the sink became a mundane chore, a reminder of our financial limitations. Even then, I found solace in small acts of self-indulgence, perhaps a subconscious attempt to claim a morsel of joy in a life riddled with deprivation. But amidst the physical hardships, it was the emotional burden that weighed heaviest on my young shoulders. I watched my mother revel in her own world of parties and fleeting pleasures, oblivious to the responsibilities she thrust upon me. I became her caretaker, a role I

  Dear Me, Do you ever just ask yourself what you are hungry for? It's a question that often gets lost in the shuffle of daily life. We move through our days with gratitude, acknowledging the blessings we have, yet there's this persistent yearning deep within us. It's a hunger, a craving for something more. Sometimes it's as simple as a hug or a heartfelt "I love you," but more often than not, it's a deeper need that we struggle to identify. As we reflect on our journey, we may come to realize that our needs were often neglected in our formative years. We learned to prioritize the needs of others above our own, becoming proficient caretakers but forgetting how to care for ourselves. It's no wonder we find ourselves unsure of how to tap into our own needs now. Instead of addressing our hunger with mindfulness and intention, we often seek temporary fixes - indulging in food, drink, shopping, or overworking. These distractions may momentarily fill t

Dear Me, If I could be brutally honest with you, I'd say this: I'm tired. Truly, deeply exhausted. It's like my soul itself is weary, worn out from the constant battles, the endless cycles of giving everything I have only to watch it all crash down, forcing me to pick up the pieces and start over again. I'm just tired, you know? Tired of the fight. Tired of waking up every day and chasing after survival like it's some elusive prey. But then, in the midst of this exhaustion, it hits me like a thunderbolt: what I'm really craving, what I truly desire above all else, is freedom. I long for ease, for that elusive break that never seems to come. I feel like I'm wandering in the wilderness, just like the Israelites did after leaving Egypt. When will I finally reach my promised land? And yet, even when they reached it, they had to fight tooth and nail just to hold onto it. And then, in a moment of clarity, it dawns on me: my prison isn't some external force hol