This letter was originally written in 2020 as a therapy exercise during a major transition in my healing journey. At the time, I was moving from one phase of therapy into another and beginning work with a life coach. Now, in 2025, I can look back with gratitude, knowing how far I’ve come. I continue to use everything I learned! While I still check in with someone from time to time, my foundation is solid—grounded in faith, intentional with my health, and mindful of what I allow into my mind and spirit. Healthy habits are a lifestyle, and it all starts with God and taking care of what He has given you.

Reading this now humbles me. The road has been long, but God is good. His presence, grace, and blessings over my life, my family, and my health are things I will never take for granted. If you’re struggling—whether with your circumstances or the weight of others—know that you’re not alone. Get help, rest, move your body, talk to someone, and most importantly, build a relationship with Jesus. It will change your life. Positive breeds positive.

If you need a place to find a little hope, come connect with me on social media: @skfabric_303

Dear Me,

First, I need to say I’m sorry. I’ve been hard on you. I know you’ll shrug it off and say it’s fine, but the truth is, I’ve hurt you. I’ve held you to impossible standards, demanding perfection, expecting you to get everything right. The pressure has been relentless, and I see now that it’s been too much to bear. I’ve made you believe you weren’t good enough, and in doing so, I became the worst voice in your head. I repeated the words others said about you when I should have silenced them. Worse, I let others do the same. I didn’t protect you. I convinced you that this was just how it was supposed to be.

But it wasn’t.

You were just a kid. You never deserved that. You have always been smarter and stronger than I let you believe—than anyone told you. I am truly sorry for that.

I wasn’t kind to you, so you went searching for someone else to keep you safe. I know you thought you found that place once or twice, but you know now—only you can save yourself. You were left confused too many times, your trust shattered. You had every right to build the thickest walls. And again, I’m sorry.

It was never anyone else’s job to keep you safe. It was mine, and I let you down. I failed you, over and over again. I left you waiting—waiting for me to pick you up off the floor, to move you forward, to give you direction. But I was silent and scared when you needed me most. I’m sorry for that, too.

I wonder where we’d be if I hadn’t left you in the dark. I let you believe lies, kept you in a fog, but I swear, I was planning a comeback for us. In the quiet moments, in the farthest corners of your mind, I was there—praying, holding on, fighting to keep you alive. I whispered the poems we used to write together, sent you messages in dreams, left clues to remind you. You were never alone.

But I was struggling, holding the monsters back. I was being pulled into dark places, led down hallways I didn’t go. Trapped in rooms that drained me every day. I went through it all so you wouldn’t have to. I took the weight of it, the confusion, the fear, the hurt. And when I couldn’t fight anymore, I broke I know that broke you too.

I don’t know when it happened—whether it was years of pain piling up or one final trauma that tipped the scale. But I disappeared, and I left you to face life alone. I should have fought harder, sooner. I should have told you the truth. So many people should have done better.

And yet, you survived.

While I was hiding, healing, bandaging my wounds, you kept going. You woke up every day, even when it felt impossible. You figured things out. I didn’t know what to expect from you, but you didn’t give up. I watched from a distance, sneaking back to see you now and then. I wanted to fight for us, to reconnect, but we had been apart for so long. You didn’t trust me, and I didn’t blame you.

Rebuilding that trust wasn’t easy. We had always kept walls up, but now, the truth had shattered them. The memories flooded back, the dam broke open. I knew it would be hard to explain why I had kept certain things from you, but you were finally strong enough to hear it. And I needed you to know: Trusting yourself again would be the hardest thing of all.

Over time, we started coming back together. I began to see through your eyes again. It was terrifying, but you faced it head-on. I was proud of you. I still am. You’ve had people doubt you, criticize you, judge you, but you’ve pushed through. It hasn’t been easy, but you kept going.

It’s been incredible to watch you heal. To see you grow stronger, more whole, more us every day. Even when others tried to hold you back, you moved forward. It’s the greatest thing—to see you thriving, to see us thriving.

Now, as we enter yet another season of change, I need you to know—I’m not leaving you this time. Others may walk away. They may be cold and distant. But we? We keep moving. We will be healthy. We will be whole.

And no matter what happens next, know this:
God made no mistakes with you.
You are exactly who you are meant to be.

Not everyone will like us during this transition—this season of rediscovering our voice. And that’s okay. Let them have their opinions. Meanwhile, can we just live?

If we want to write a badass book about our life—or anything at all—let’s do it. If we have a business idea that brings us joy and benefits our family, let’s go for it. And if it doesn’t work out? If we change our minds? That’s okay too. That’s called being human. And we are human. Even when I forget to treat you that way. Even when others don’t.

Through it all, as things are revealed, hold onto this truth: You are only human. But you have never been alone. Not in your worst moments. Not in the deepest pain. God has been with us every step of the way. He has moved mountains to bring us here. And while I’ve hated the struggles, I know it’s time to stop looking back.

We’re moving forward now. No more looking behind us. Forward motion only.

Yes, we carry scars. We’re a little worn around the edges. But we are stronger. Healthier. Our faith is deeper than ever. Hard days will come, but now? That’s just a walk in the park. And on those days, remember this:

You are never alone.

You are a human being, and that means you are allowed grace, growth, change, and most of all, love. Even on the worst days, hold onto that.

And on the quiet days? The simple ones? Be grateful. There is deep satisfaction in a simple life, in a humble home, with a sweet, loving family. You deserve this peace. People may try to take it from you, but you are God’s—and you never have to worry. He will always protect you.

Now, let’s step into this new chapter, this new home, more connected, more ourselves than ever before. Let’s be exactly who God created us to be—Sarah, all the way.

And laugh—loudly.
Without apology.

Monster slayer.
Just because we can.

With love,
Me

SK

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