LETTERS TO MYSELF
After all my traumas, after all my fights, after every bruise — visible and invisible — I finally took time for myself. Truly, fully for myself. This was the beginning of my self-love journey, the start of my self-healing.
But it was anything but simple. It was raw, it was painful, it was filled with tears I didn’t think I could shed, with moments of screaming at myself for all the mistakes I’d believed I had made, with guilt that kept me awake at night.
I had to face truths I had avoided for years. I admitted to myself just how broken I had become, how deeply hurt I was, and how I had spent so long putting everyone else’s needs before my own.
I was raised to please, to say yes, to stay quiet when I disagreed. I never learned to defend myself, to assert my boundaries, to honor my feelings.
Facing that truth hurt more than anything else — realizing I had allowed myself to be treated like I didn’t matter, to be dismissed, to be silenced. Even now, writing this, my chest tightens. I still cannot believe I let myself endure that.
For so long, I carried those fears, those feelings, those silent screams. I hid them until they erupted into depression, into anxiety, into moments where I questioned whether I was worthy of love at all.
I knew I had to change, but the thought of stepping into that unknown terrified me.
And yet, I did. I sought help — therapy, guidance, someone to hear me without judgment. And step by step, I began to uncover myself, piece by piece, scar by scar.
I started small. I made changes for me, for my daughters, for the life I deserved.
I reshaped my days, my routines, my thoughts. I reminded myself every single day: You are worthy. You are loved. You are enough. You belong.
I promised I would never allow anyone to diminish me again, never allow anyone to silence my feelings.
And then, life surprised me. On April 14th, 2023, a simple message appeared on Instagram:
“Hey.” That face, that smile — it was someone I had met years ago, someone who had once felt like magic, like a light I could not forget. Eight years later, our paths collided again, and everything felt like destiny.
I responded days later, hesitant, unsure, but open. We began talking, exchanging messages and voice notes, laughter and memories flowing between us.
When I heard his voice, butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I felt like a little girl again, that same nervous excitement I hadn’t felt in years. My heart remembered what it felt like to hope, to trust, to allow someone in.
But I was cautious. I had learned the hard way. I had been hurt, manipulated, dismissed. I had flinched at raised hands, apologized for things I didn’t do, silenced my feelings to avoid conflict.
I had built walls around my heart, and with good reason. Yet, with him, something felt different. He didn’t just speak words — he spoke through actions. He showed patience, respect, care.
He guided me when I needed support, without belittling me. He made space for me to be myself without fear.
We took a full year to heal individually, to grow individually, to ensure that if we chose each other, we were ready.
And through that process, I learned what love was supposed to feel like: safe, kind, consistent, uplifting. I could trust him, not blindly, but with my eyes wide open, because he earned it every day.
And now, I want him to know — if he ever reads this — that through every scar I carry, every moment of fear, every shadow of my past, my love for him is unwavering.
I am in love with him in ways that are both tender and fierce. He has shown me what it means to be seen, to be heard, to be cherished, and I am endlessly grateful.
My heart, once guarded, now opens to him fully, because he has earned that space, that trust, that love.
I am not perfect. I still have scars. I still stumble sometimes. But I am stronger than I have ever been.
I am whole, I am worthy, and I am capable of loving again — truly, fully, and deeply.
And my love for him is a testament to my journey, my healing, and my choice to never settle for anything less than a love that uplifts, honors, and respects me.
A Note from Mommy In Bloom
Healing is not a straight path. Trust is not given lightly. But love — real, true, life-changing love — can come when we are ready, when we have faced our fears, when we have found ourselves again.
I have learned to open my heart, not recklessly, but with courage and clarity. And in this love, I have found my voice, my strength, and my home.
With Love,
Mommy In Bloom
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