Dear Me,

I see you. The one who dared to leave the familiar to find her truth—bruised, yes, but never broken.

You’ve carried pain with grace, After everything—you still show up, mascara smudged or not, with that same stubborn fire in your belly and sparkle in your soul. If no one’s said it today: I’m proud of you. Deep, ugly-cry proud.

Thank you for becoming the woman your younger self never thought she could be. For rebuilding, rising, and showing up—raw, radiant, and real.

You are not too much. You are not behind. You are divine timing in motion. You’re “The Becoming”

And baby, becoming looks damn good on you.

You, my love, is the plot twist.

You are juggling everyone’s expectations like a pro—career goals, emotional labor, people-pleasing on steroids. You kept showing up, even when your soul was whispering, “There’s more.”

Here’s what I want you to know after walking the talk, :
You don’t have to prove your worth through burnout.
 You can be bold and soft. Fierce and healing.
 You can say “no” without explaining.
 You can rest without guilt.
 You are not selfish for choosing yourself—you are sacred.

Life gets real, but so do you. You’ll rise—clearer, louder, wiser. You’ll become the woman you once needed. And you’ll help others do the same.

So chin up, heart open. The best parts of you are just getting started.

With fire, truth, and sisterhood, Coach. Speaker. No-woman-left-behind kinda soul.
So here’s what You need to vow to you:
 “I’ll rest before burnout. Speak before swallowing truth. Laugh in chaos. Dance in fear. And love myself like I’ve always deserved—with gentleness, reverence, and a bit of Beyoncé-level hype.”

“From here on, I promise to hold me with the same compassion I offer others. To rest when I’m tired, rise when I’m ready, and always, always believe in my magic.

With fierce love,
 Me