Most of us picked up a hobby during the pandemic.
Mostly because I was bored… probably you were too.
Mine was writing! I did a poetry contest at FIU and won.
But will I ever share it here? Probably not.
Honestly, listening to it is… so cringy.
That girl is not me if it ever pop up anywhere.
I’m hoping that there’s no copy of it anywhere.
So I figured, why not start sharing some personal journals instead?
And ‘liminal’—that’s a word I love.
It’s all about life in the in-between. That awkward, messy space where you’re not where you were...but not quite where you want to be either.
Everything I write here is a piece of my story—in case you need a reminder that your life has meaning, even when you feel stuck.
Liminal Letters is for you.
For the ones living in the messy middle.
For healing.
For reflection.
For faith.
For becoming.
If depression ever pulled you under, this space is for you too.
I’ll share my story in parts later on—but here’s a piece:
When I was 11, I wrote a farewell letter.
But I couldn’t do it.
My parents. My family.
The pain they’d carry.
How no one would be able to tell them it wasn’t their fault. That’s what kept me alive.
I lived with depression and suicidal thoughts for 14 years.
But God… healed me in 2023.
Now, I write to name the ache.
To keep living full.
To remind both of us: we’re not alone.
I talk about relationships, mental health... and doing what scares you.
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