A Letter to My 35-Year-Old Self

Dear Tina,

You are 35 years old, and right now you feel like the ground has been ripped out from beneath you. You wake up each morning with a pit in your stomach, wondering how you will hold it all together. Your daughters are only two and four-years-old, and every ounce of your energy is spent trying to protect them from a system you are just beginning to understand.

You feel alone, but you are not.

I wish I could sit across from you at the kitchen table, hold your hand, and tell you that you are going to make it through this storm. It will not be easy. There will be days when you feel like you cannot breathe inside the courtroom. There will be nights when you cry quietly after your children fall asleep. You will question whether you are strong enough for what lies ahead.

You are stronger than you think.

I want you to know that the court is not a place of fairness or justice, at least not in the way you hope. To them, your life is just another case file, another transaction in a long list of hearings. Do not take it personally. Their failure to see you clearly does not define who you are as a mother.

I also want you to know that while you cannot control the court, you can control how you respond to it. You will learn to separate emotion from strategy. You will discover that documentation, clarity, and preparation are your greatest allies. You will stop trying to make them understand every detail, and instead you will learn to focus on what matters most.

The little girls you tuck into bed each night need you to remember something important. They do not need a perfect mother. They need a present mother. They need a mom who listens, who validates their feelings, and who teaches them that they are seen and safe, even when the world feels unsafe.

Someday, they will grow up and they will know the truth. You do not need to convince them of it now. You only need to love them fiercely and consistently.

One day, you will look back and see that every small step mattered. The affirmations you whispered before school, the rituals you created at the dinner table, the moments when you sat with their tears and told them it was okay to feel…all of it will add up to a foundation of resilience that will carry them into adulthood.

So breathe, Tina. Trust yourself. Hold your daughters close and keep moving forward one step at a time. You do not need to know how this story ends. You only need to know that you will survive it.

With love and gratitude,

Your 50-Year-Old Self

Turning the Reflection to You

When I wrote this letter to myself, it was not just about looking back. It was also about reaching out to every mother who is walking this same path today.

Just yesterday, I stumbled across a clip of myself and the girls during this time in our lives. From the outside looking in, no one would've ever guessed what we were going through.

If you are in the thick of it, maybe you needed to hear these words too. Maybe you need the reminder that you are enough, that your children do not need perfection, and that even if the system does not see you, you are building something stronger inside your home.

I want to invite you to pause for a moment and ask yourself: What would I tell my younger self? If you could go back and sit across from her, what wisdom would you want her to carry through the storm?

Your words matter. Your truth matters. And one day, just like me, you will look back with gratitude that you kept walking, even when the path was dark.