Tender Hearts Club

A Letter to My Readers

My reader is me. My reader is you. I can’t say exactly what brought you here but I have an idea why you’ve stayed. Maybe something you read lives in your heart, too. And isn’t that the best feeling? To come across words that wrap themselves around your body, around your soul, and whisper, “You are welcome here. You are seen here. Yes, you can live here, too.” 

I write so I can know freedom. I write because it makes me feel free. And while this is often a solitary, reflective, quiet period for me, you are always on my mind. Because I write for me, but I also write for you. To you. Out of the billions of people who could have seen this message today, you are here. Out of the billions of words you could have stumbled upon, it was these that drew you in.

I don’t take that lightly. In fact, it means the world to me you’re here. I write for you, and I write for me. I believe we are all people who want love, purpose, connection, and belonging. We need to know our heart’s beat and we need to recognize that same rhythm in another. I need you just as much as you may need me. I need to know I’m not alone.

That’s what I want my words to be for you. A hope, a prayer, a way in and forward. I need you to know you are not alone. Not now, not ever, so long as our hearts beat together. 

I write for rhythm.
I write for fun.
I write because if I didn’t my head would certainly combust. 

I write and I share because I have a feeling you’re a person who needs calm just as much as me. 

I can’t guarantee my work will provide anything for you. (Sometimes we have to go our own way.) But when you’re here, I hope you receive love. I hope you receive warmth. I hope you receive validation of worth and beauty and joy and crusade. 

Maybe motherhood brought you. 
Maybe parenthood or power to the people.
Perhaps you saw something about sobriety or education
And you felt so lucky to have found a comrade. 
Maybe it’s talk of spirit
and knowing there’s a person trying to break out of you, too. 
A person who’s tired of old ways
and knows there’s something more for her out there. 
A person who’s recognized her own voice
and is feeling called to share it, too.

Maybe you’re just a person who was at the right place at the right time.

Friend, I’m so glad you’re here. Because I need you, too.


In the Works

It’s been a long time coming and I’m so excited to tell you. (Actually I’m dreadfully anxious to tell you because what if our world, my world, comes crashing down again and this thing can never get off the ground?!? Hi!)

You ready?

A NEWSLETTER!
(yes you can click on me)

But first, can I share a little history with you?

About three years ago I moved from California to Canada, Oakland to Vancouver. Around this time I had already started dabbling in sharing my words publicly and was really beginning to see myself as a writer. With my one year sobriety date approaching I felt a big call bubbling inside of me. I needed to get this story out. Not just of sobriety but of my whole move. It didn’t go anywhere near planned. And from where I was standing the view looked dismal. What did we do, I wondered over and over again. But after a few months of tiring transitions, I began to see the light again. I felt the staying power that I was where I needed to be.

As I was preparing holiday cards that season, I realized I wanted to say more than just a hi, hello, how are you? I wanted to keep our friends and family in the loop, but I needed them to see me. I needed them to know me.

What I realized was I was dying to know me.

For my whole life I never felt worthy. Anytime I stumbled over what to say aloud it confirmed my fears that I am not a good story-teller. But more than that, I told myself just don’t have good stories, I told myself I don’t have any stories. I’m pretty stale, in fact. I believed those thoughts like they were a truth. The truth was I never validated my stories. I didn’t think that my experiences were worthy enough. Either they weren’t tragic enough, they weren’t hard enough, they weren’t sparkly enough, they just weren’t enough. I wasn’t enough.


Who was I?

Things started to change that December when I realized I had a story in me. 

I was giving myself power of my life. I was believing it. I was believing me.

That first email I sent to friends and family was aptly titled, “I Have a Story in Me.” To say it changed something in me is an understatement. After that, more words wanted to come. After a few months I’d send another email. And then another. Although I was writing to a small group, I really had one person in mind (just like now). I am writing to you. 

Unfortunately with the pandemic hitting and the coming of hardship beyond my wildest dreams, the words stopped flowing. I couldn’t bring myself to send anything. Nothing felt right. Now, I can say I was in a period of depression and high-anxiety when at the time all I could feel was all-consuming grief, confusion, angst. Everything felt like it changed. Everything was changing. 

Then, after a long dormant season, the idea of a newsletter came to me. Last Spring, I looked at some apps, began to personalize and format, and I had it ready to send. But imposter syndrome got the better of me, again. Then I spontaneously took a 9-month break from social media and not much writing happened in that time either. Enter in a long existential crisis.


SO WHY IS THAT IMPORTANT?

Because I’m back. I’m here again. If you’ve ever found yourself in despair and had to crawl back out then you can understand the elation to be able to see your full self again.

I’m not entirely sure what this newsletter will bring. But it’s a start to something. That I believe.

I hope you stay.

I could remain the only member of the Tender Hearts Club but I think it would be more enjoyable with you there. So each week (each month?) it’s my pleasure and my purpose to bring you words from the heart. Truth. Joy. Love. Hope. And probably a whole lotta nothing mixed in.

Because what I see now that I didn’t see then is it’s the little things. I don’t have to have it all figured out. I don’t need to know where this is going (And maybe just maybe I can release any expectation of it being “good.” One can hope!) It’s not about what becomes of this, but how we work while we’re doing it. How we feel while we’re in the middle. While we’re in the means. What do our actual days feel like? What are we doing? What are we saying! How are we responding?

Right now that’s showing up for me, showing up for you. And I want you there with me. So let’s laugh, let’s play, let’s show up as we are and fight for the person inside of us.

Respectfully and with all my love,
Christina 

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