Notes on Courage
Reflections for staying human
From my heart to yours
Start where you are.
You don’t have to know which Letter you need.
Begin with what feels closest to where you are now.
To the One Who’s Still Orbiting Their Truth
A visceral letter to the one who’s been circling around what they already know deep down. You’re not confused—you’re just scared. But your truth is still here. And it’s ready when you are.
To the One Who Is Holding On
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.
To the One Who Learned to Feel Loved by Being Needed
For years you believed that being needed was the same as being loved. That carrying the weight, keeping the light, holding steady through the storm was proof of your worth. But your body knows the truth: love is not earned. Love is given & received. And you are ready for the kind that stays.
The Ache & the Aliveness
A midsummer note for anyone living in the questions. There’s a certain kind of ache that doesn’t mean something’s wrong—it means something is waking up.
Lately, I’ve been feeling a restlessness that doesn’t want to be solved. It wants to be listened to. There’s something stirring under the surface of my life, something tender and wild, something that feels more like ripeness than confusion.
In this midsummer letter, I’m writing from the edge—where grief meets joy, where the ache opens into aliveness, and where the questions are louder than the answers. It’s not a polished reflection. It’s a real one.
If you’ve been feeling a shift you can’t quite name…If you’re finding yourself more tender than usual…If you’re living between clarity and becoming…This letter is for you.
To the One Who has a Complicated Relationship to Their Father
Some relationships aren’t clean. They’re layered, nuanced, and hard to define. Especially when it comes to fathers. Whether your father was emotionally unavailable, physically absent, or simply unable to meet you with tenderness—this letter is for you. It names the ache. It holds the grief. And it reminds you: your worth was never determined by what he could or could not offer. Read the full letter: To the One Who Has a Complicated Relationship to Their Father
To the One Who’s Trying to Understand the Kind of Love They Long For
Most of us learned to accept versions of love that left us thirsty—rationed, rushed, or wrapped in performance. But real love doesn’t make you beg. It meets you in your longing and stays. In this letter, we explore the ache of wanting more, the courage it takes to name what we truly need, and the moment we stop shrinking our hunger to match what was never meant to fill us.