Dear Me,
I know this letter has been a long time coming. I’ve written to others before to the ones who left, to the ones who hurt me, even to the ones I still miss. But this one… this one is different. It’s not about them. It’s about me.
For years, I carried the weight of my own mistakes like a second skin. I blamed myself for things I couldn’t control, for the hearts I couldn’t fix, for the versions of me that didn’t know better. I kept replaying every moment I wished I could undo the words I said in anger, the times I stayed silent when I should’ve spoken, the love I gave to those who never gave it back.
But today, something changed. I woke up and looked in the mirror, and for the first time, I didn’t see a broken person I saw a survivor. I saw someone who kept showing up, even when the world told her she wasn’t enough. I saw someone who has been both the storm and the sunshine.
So, I forgive you for trusting too much, for loving too deeply, for not knowing when to let go. I forgive you for the nights you cried yourself to sleep, for the days you hid your pain behind a smile. I forgive you for trying to save everyone but yourself.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It means choosing to love yourself louder than the echoes of your guilt. It means setting yourself free from the prison of your own regret. And today, I am doing just that setting myself free.
I may not have all the answers, but I know this: I am still growing, still learning, still healing. And that’s enough.
So here’s to me to the woman who finally learned that peace doesn’t come from perfection, but from acceptance.
With gentleness and grace,
The Me Who Finally Let Go.