This week asks a lot of us. Not because of the holiday itself, but because of what rises up inside us when the noise quiets. Gratitude isn’t about pretending — it’s about staying human, staying honest, and staying connected to what’s real.

There’s something sacred about this stretch-marked season. Autumn doesn’t apologize for what must fall. It knows the tremble is what makes release possible—and release is what makes room for new life. In a world heavy with grief, rage, and near-constant saturation, this letter meets you where you are: aching, uncertain, brave. It honors the tremble in your nervous system and the courage still breathing in your body.

You don’t have to let go all at once. Even when the world tells you to leap, to break open, to “trust the process”—you get to take your time. But eventually, the part of you that’s been gripping will tire. And when it does, I hope you remember this: not all falling is breaking. Some of it is becoming. This letter is for the one who’s still holding on.