Dear Old Friend...

A 10 year recap like I'm talking to an old friend.

(Because catching up with an old friend made me realize I’d like to write it all out. Here it goes…)

Dear Old Friend,

Let’s pick back up from where we left off—how long has it been? 10 years? How do I recap a decade? It’s been a blur.

That one friend from California? Yeah, I don’t talk to them anymore either. Not because I’m bitter or angry; I just started paying attention to how my nervous system felt when I was around certain people, and that became a feeling I could no longer ignore.

I can’t believe I use the words “nervous system” now. I mean, back then I thought everything was black and white—the devil or God, spiritual warfare or a blessing. Sheesh. I still love Jesus with all my heart, but I’m thankful for what I’ve learned about mental health.

Oh yeah, I guess I should fill you in on why that is. My husband and I adopted a sibling set from foster care and went from 3 to 5 kids overnight in 2021. They were 7 & 11 at the time, and I had a lot to learn about trauma, attachment wounds, and parenting in a completely different way. I fumbled my way through it, to be honest. Some days I still feel like I’m fumbling. But at least now I can admit that, and even laugh about it. At the time? Not a chance. I was wrapped in guilt. Between the kids, a new job, and the adoption—they were all changes I prayed for, so I didn’t think I had permission to struggle.

I was also thrown some curveballs during that time that only my therapist, Jesus, and a few close friends know about. I now know what panic attacks feel like. (I’m grateful those are gone.) I guess we’ll have to save that “trauma dump” for another time.

There have been some wins along the way, though. I got a book deal! But I Prayed for This comes out this month. I never want anyone to stuff their struggle or wrap themselves in guilt the way I did because “I prayed for this.” It turns out, there’s a lot of science and Scripture that explains why we feel so out of sorts when we step into big life changes. So, I’m leaning into the awkward marketing phase of the book journey at the moment. Every time I read an early review that says someone felt seen or understood, it makes every awkward moment worth it.

My kids are mostly teens now. My nervous system is getting tested in all kinds of new ways. New drivers, fender benders, what are you wearing, why won’t you text me back, I’m not sure about that friend, dating, breakups, I’m not doing enough, and where did all the snacks go? But, gosh, I’m so dang proud of them. And also, I’m so dang tired.

When my kids were little, I wasn’t working. But now I’m big-girl working. Thankfully, I love what I do. And I live in Tennessee near my sister now. She’s a working mom too, and she gets it. We send each other funny reels to survive and occasionally go out to dinner and laugh until our cheeks hurt.

My days are filled with writing, content creation, coaching other writers, prepping for my next Reboot Retreat, giving my kids rides, figuring out what to make for dinner (again), and scanning my calendar for any and every available window to play pickleball. Yeah, I’m really into it. Say what you want. But nothing gives my brain a break better than smashing that little plastic ball around.

I’m sorry if this 10-year summary sounds a bit unfiltered. Some hard seasons suck the pretense right out of you. Well, at least that’s what happened for me. But do you know what’s beautiful about panning back and looking at it all at once? I can see that although I’m still fumbling through some things, I’m content. I’m whole. I’m authentic. It is well with my soul. And even though on the outside things looked different a decade ago (hello, crow's feet), on the inside, I like myself much better now. I guess I can count that as another win.

Well, now it’s your turn. Just know that whatever the last 10 years have held for you, I promise to listen with an open heart and zero judgment. I start my days bowing real low, admitting that I have nothing figured out, and basically praying “Help!” in all its various forms. I’m also now allergic to unsolicited advice and platitudes, so there’s that. All that to say, it’s a safe place, and I hope no matter what your 10-year summary holds, you can look back and say “I like myself much better now” too.

—Melissa