Dear my future kids,
It’s been a while since I’ve written to you. Life has been moving so fast lately that sometimes I feel like I’m running just to keep up, and even then, things still slip through my fingers. But in the middle of all that, there’s a question I want you to try to answer:
Does life happen to you, or do you happen to life?
Now try this one:
Do you wait, or do you begin?
That’s the thought I’ve been sitting with these days. And maybe that’s why a certain story keeps resurfacing, coming back to me over and over.
It’s about a pair of twins who grew up in a house where fights were as common as dinner, where shouting was the only language the adults ever seemed to use. Their childhood was the kind where you learn to tiptoe, where even breathing too loud felt dangerous. Same roof. Same room. Same ten minutes of difference – not enough to blame fate, destiny, or any fortune-telling.
And yet, when they became adults, their lives split like two roads moving in opposite directions.
One sister grew up and carried her childhood with her the way some people carry an old scar, touching it again and again. The anger stayed close, so did the fear, so did the habit of reaching for something to numb it all. When life hurt her, she pointed back to where she came from and said, “How could my story have been any different?”
The other sister grew up and decided the past would stop with her. She softened her voice where her parents had hardened theirs. She tended to her life the way she wished someone had tended to her. She built warmth in every corner of her home. And when people asked how she learned to live with such tenderness, she simply said, “How could my story have been any different?”
I’ve always been struck by that – how two people can share the same beginning but choose different meanings.
And somewhere along the way I realized: every person has a nature – a starting point – and no one is perfect. none of us are trapped by what we’re born with. choosing to change, choosing to grow beyond what feels familiar or comfortable, is one of the bravest things you can ever do. Your nature is where you begin, not where you must stay. What carries you forward is your willpower – that simple, quiet force inside you that lets you choose differently.
Life gives you circumstances.
You decide what they become. You give them meaning.
That quiet ability to choose your own meaning – that is your willpower, working gently but firmly in your life.
Your life will not be shaped by the big, dramatic moments. It will be shaped by the mornings you drag yourself out of bed when you don’t feel like it, the tasks you finish even when no one else cares, the private promises you keep simply because they matter to you.
Every time you choose discipline over comfort, you place a small vote for the person you’re becoming. Over time, those votes create your character.
People talk about self-esteem as if it comes from achievements or praise, but truly, i think it’s the reputation you build with yourself. Your spirit always knows whether you showed up or gave up. It knows when you’re honest with yourself – and when you aren’t.
You’ll meet many people who carry a story about why they “can’t” do something – their upbringing, their environment, their timing, their luck. There’s always a reason if you want one badly enough. The world is generous with excuses.
But real freedom comes from refusing them.
People with strong willpower aren’t perfect. They feel the same fear, the same tiredness, the same moments of overwhelm as anyone else. The only difference is that, quietly inside themselves, they say, Even when this is hard, even when it feels unfair, even when things aren’t going my way… I can still take one small step.
Those are the people who bring light into your life.
The ones who stay steady when things get messy.
The ones who don’t shut down when life feels too heavy.
And gently, my loves, be mindful of the people who stay stuck in the stories that limit them. Sometimes their excuses become a kind of soft cage – one they don’t even realize they’ve built. And being around that for too long can make your own heart smaller.
Life won’t always meet you halfway. The timing won’t always be right. Your emotions won’t always cooperate. And people will say things that make you question yourself.
But even then, you still have choices.
You can still begin.
Sometimes I think about how many mornings I’ve wanted to stay curled up under the covers a little longer, holding on to warmth instead of stepping into the day. And yet, every time I’ve gently pushed myself up, I’ve been reminded that life opens only when we do.
And the choices that matter most are usually small ones.
Sliding the blanket aside.
Putting your feet on the floor.
Choosing to grow, even just a little, even just today.
Strength isn’t loud.
It’s quiet.
It builds slowly, almost invisibly.
So, my dear kids, when you someday read these words, I hope you grow into people who don’t hide from your own lives. People who try again after falling. People who take responsibility not because they “must,” but because it makes you feel proud of who you’re becoming.
I hope you find friends who make your world wider and warmer. The ones who help you breathe easier, think clearer, and dream bigger.
And most of all, I hope you don’t trap yourselves in fear or perfection or self-doubt. There is no perfect time to begin. There is only the courage you find in the moment you’re in.
When the morning feels heavy and the bed feels too warm, pause.
Take a slow breath.
And remind yourself, softly, that you were made for more than comfort.
Then, in your own pace, in your own way:
riseeeeeeee,
step into the day,
and begin again.
With all my love,
mom
