Dear Former Me — The Version Who Thought She Had to Earn Her Worth

I remember how you used to stare at your phone, wondering if silence meant rejection.

How you’d spiral when someone withdrew their energy, blaming yourself for their confusion.

How you’d rehearse every boundary in your head, afraid that speaking your needs would make you too much to stay.

You didn’t want to be a burden.

You wanted to be the peace someone came home to.

Even if it cost you your own.

I remember the night you cried after recording—how your voice cracked trying to sound strong.

How you gave grace to someone who never apologized, hoping quiet kindness would invite accountability.

How you kept showing up, even when you felt invisible in return.

You kept shrinking to fit into spaces that were never built for your power.

And deep down, you believed if you loved hard enough, they’d see you clearly.

But you’re not invisible anymore.

You’ve stopped begging for clarity from people who only offer confusion.

You’ve stopped mistaking kindness for consistency.

You’ve stopped abandoning yourself just to feel chosen for a moment.

You are not hard to love.

You just outgrew the people who only knew how to hold you halfway.

And now?

Now, your peace is louder than your performance.

Your silence isn’t punishment—it’s protection.

And your presence is the reward—not something you ever had to earn.

You made it, baby.

You walked yourself home.

Not to perfection—but to your power.

And whatever comes next?

It’s not gonna require shrinking, guessing, or over-explaining.

It’s gonna meet you in your fullness.

I’m proud of you. I trust you. I’m not letting go of you again.

I love you so much.

Love, Evelyn