This year, I’m moving slow. No rushing. No frenzy. Just deliberate daily action pointed towards my goals.
For me, the new year doesn’t really start until March anyway.
So, I wrote you a poem. A gentle reminder: you’re not in survival mode anymore. It’s safe to release the versions of yourself that carried you through. You don’t need them now.
To all the versions of me I’ve been, thank you.
You kept me safe.
You helped me survive.
Against all odds, we pushed forward, pulling weeds from the garden and planting hope where there was none.
But where I’m going now, there’s no room for masks or costumes.
No need for fear. No need to hide.
You’ve done your job beautifully.
And it’s okay to rest now.
I release every version of me that no longer points to my highest and truest good.
