I asked myself a simple question this morning:
“What would my writing self whisper to me from the future?”
And then I heard her — not as a fantasy or a voice outside of me, but as a presence I already carry.
She came through the quiet like breath. Like truth. Like something I’ve always known.
Here’s what she said:
“Thank you for not giving up on me.
I watched you write in the edges of busy days,
in sunlit corners and tired evenings,
in emails and Substack posts and whispered journal lines.
You thought the noise would drown us out.
But you kept returning.
I am the life you built word by word -
not by rushing, but by remembering.
The job didn’t stop us.
The house didn’t stop us.
The laundry, the busy work days, the overwhelm -
none of it stopped you.
Every moment you sat down to write -
even when no one was watching -
you were calling me home.
And here I am.
Living in the life you once dreamed was too far away.”*
Today’s Whisper:
“Keep writing, even when it feels like no one’s listening.
You’re already shaping the life that’s listening back.”
With a pen in one hand and presence in the other,
Joanne