Dear Linda,

Today, I close a chapter.

Not with rage.
Not with regret.
But with reverence — for the woman who survived it all.

This folder holds the last remnants of a story I once thought would define me.
But I now know: it does not.

It holds the documents, the proof, the evidence of years I spent trying.
Years I spent shrinking, explaining, bending, breaking — just to be seen.
But I no longer need to be seen by someone who chose not to look.
I no longer need to be heard by someone who only listened to their own echo.

This folder is full, but I am light.
It is heavy, but I am free.
It carries pain, but I carry wisdom.

I don’t write this to say I never loved. I did. Deeply.
But love isn’t supposed to erase you.
Love isn’t supposed to silence your spirit or make you question your worth.

And I will never again call something “love” that asks me to betray myself.

So today, I honour:

• Every version of me who hoped, stayed, cried, and fought.
• The quiet courage it took to collect the truth and face it without flinching.
• The deep grace it takes to walk away — not just from a person, but from a pattern.

This is not the end.
This is the sacred beginning.
And I vow that from this moment forward:

I will not beg to be respected.
I will not tolerate cruelty disguised as love.
I will never again abandon myself to keep someone else comfortable.

I am done carrying what does not belong to me.
The shame.
The blame.
The weight of someone else’s brokenness.

It’s not mine.

What is mine is joy, freedom, laughter, peace, rest, and the right to live fully, unapologetically, beautifully — as me.

So I tuck this letter into the back of this folder — the last page of the last chapter.

And then, I turn the page.
And I begin again.

With love,
With power,
With peace,

Linda xxx

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