It started with a pen. And a bit of space. And, if I’m honest, a lot of pain I didn’t know what to do with.

Over the last few years, I’ve found that writing has become something more than a hobby or a coping strategy — it’s become a lifeline. Not the shiny kind with affirmations and pretty pages, but something messier, rawer. A way to say the things I can’t always admit out loud.

Lately, I’ve been working on something I call the “Dear Me” journal.

It’s as simple as it sounds. I write letters to myself. Sometimes they start with *Dear Me*, sometimes *Dear You*, and sometimes *Just get it out, Dee*. There are no rules, which is kind of the point. The whole idea is to create a space where I can be honest, messy, hurting, hopeful, scared, or numb — and it’s all allowed.

Why “Dear Me”?

Because I needed to feel *seen*. And I wasn’t always getting that from the outside world.

These letters aren’t about wallowing — they’re about understanding. They’re about reconnecting with the parts of me I’ve lost to trauma, grief, burnout, illness… life. They’re a place to write to the past version of me who didn’t make it out unscathed, or the future version of me I’m still trying to believe in.

Some days I write:
Dear Me,
I know you’re struggling today. I’m proud of you for getting out of bed.

Other days:
Dear Me,
You deserve more than survival.

And some days it’s just:
Dear Me,
Fuck. This. Shit.

That’s allowed too.

What I’ve Learned (So Far)

– It doesn’t need to be perfect — some entries are scribbles on the back of an envelope. That still counts.
– It’s not about fixing anything — it’s about noticing. Being with yourself. Holding space for the mess.
– Sometimes the person we most need to hear from is ourselves.

Try It: Prompt Questions to Get You Started

If you’re staring at a blank page or feel too full of everything to begin, here are some gentle prompts:

– What would I say to the part of me that’s scared right now?
– What’s one moment I survived that I didn’t think I would?
– What makes me feel safe — a place, a person, a memory?
– If my future self could speak to me now, what would they say?
– What tiny win did I have today, even if no one else saw it?
– How do I feel when I’m truly seen and heard?
– What does support *actually* look like to me?
– What do I need less of right now?
– What helps me come back to myself when I feel lost?
– What would I tell a friend going through what I’m feeling today?

Start with just one. Or jump between them. There’s no right way to use them. Just show up with your truth — even if that truth is “I don’t know where to start.”

A Final Word

There’s something powerful about writing to yourself with care and honesty. It’s like offering the younger you a bit of grace, or letting the present you off the hook. It’s not always pretty, but it’s yours.

If you’re feeling stuck, hurting, numb or just in need of *you-time*, start with this:

Dear Me, I’m writing because…

And let it go wherever it needs to x