EPISTLE IV: To The Brain That Requires Scaffolding
To the one whose strength is depleted in functioning “normally” in public but who is collapsing in private,
whose heart is heavy with a longing for a life you can’t seem to sustain. I ache with you too.
I am learning something I spent most of my life trying not to say out loud: I can be capable in certain areas of my life and still struggle deeply with maintaining the basic rhythms of home. I am writing to you from the middle of my mess, the midst of my cycle and the freefall of my slow collapse in hopes that you will not feel alone and we find connection in common here.
EPISTLE III: To The One Sitting At The Well
To the one whose story has more hard chapters than you know how to summarize —
whose life, if spoken plainly, feels like it might shift the room — I am with you and I am writing to you from my very own latest hard chapter.
To the one who has loved, and lost, and tried again. And then again.
To the one who now sits in spaces of faith with a quiet question lingering beneath the surface: What does this make me now?