Love Letters to My Grown Self Vol 2: You Can’t Heal in Chaos

Why These Love Letters to My Grown Self Include Walking Away from Chaos

Dear Grown Me,

Seated in stillness, covered in butterflies—because peace looks good on me.

You tried. You tried to be the calm in other people’s storms. You tried to make peace in places that weren’t peaceful. You tried to pray the pain away, to stay strong, to fix what you didn’t break.

But now you know—you cannot heal in chaos.

This is what inspired these love letters to my grown self—reminders that I don’t have to shrink, tolerate dysfunction, or trade peace for performance.

What I Used to Think Healing Looked Like

I used to think I just needed to be stronger. That some of life’s challenges were just meant to be endured. That if I prayed harder, worked harder, and loved deeper—everything would fall into place.

I believed healing meant staying. Working it out. Being the bigger person.

But healing doesn’t come from trying to fix people who don’t want to be fixed. It doesn’t come from being the only one doing the emotional labor in a one-sided relationship—romantic, platonic, family, or professional. You can’t pray the chaos away if you’re the only one working to bring peace.

Healing is work. And that work is nearly impossible in an environment full of distractions, dysfunction, or denial.

What Chaos Really Looks Like

Chaos doesn’t always look like yelling or drama. Sometimes it’s emotional confusion. Sometimes it’s inconsistency. Sometimes it’s someone refusing to grow—but expecting you to carry them anyway.

It’s someone benefitting from your peace, your platform, your energy, your love—without pouring anything back into you. It’s people who keep choosing dysfunction, while expecting you to make it make sense. And the truth is, yyyou cannot heal in an environment that continues to harm you.

Sometimes choosing peace is as simple as pausing to notice the beauty around you.

I’ve had to make hard decisions. I’ve had to let go of people who lived in chaos—and tried to bring it into my world. Friends who made reckless choices. Relationships that drained more than they poured. Situations that risked my peace, my children’s well-being, and my sanity.

I’m on a healing journey now. A serious one. And I’m not bringing chaos with me. Not into my home. Not into my mind. Not into my heart.

And if you choose to live in chaos—That’s your right. But I have the right to remove myself from it. I didn’t choose that life. And I don’t have to keep it around.

I looked fine. I was functioning. But inside, I was unraveling.

A Promise to My Future Self

I promise to choose me. To remember that I am precious. I am worthy. I am enough. And I don’t have to prove it by tolerating chaos.

I promise to stop carrying the emotional weight of everyone else’s choices. I am not responsible for fixing what they continue to break. I am not responsible for healing adults who won’t do the work. I am not responsible for making dysfunction comfortable.

As a nurturer, as an empath, as a woman—yes, I feel deeply. But that does not give anyone permission to bring disorder into my life.

My love is powerful, but it is not unconditional to chaos. My peace is sacred. And I protect it now.

So I choose peace. I choose clarity. I choose me.

Because the healed version of me is no longer available for people who only knew how to love the broken version.

With love,

Me