Dear Gregory:

Your message truly moved me. The way you speak of K—not just as a partner, but as a powerful leader rooted in such a rich heritage—shows both admiration and deep commitment. It’s beautiful that you stand by her and remind her that her voice and leadership are part of a long legacy.

I agree with what you said about dreaming beyond circumstances. Your phrase—“The only person that you can dream a bigger dream and limit your dream is yourself”—rings with truth. And your encouragement to reshape dreams when needed, paired with that brilliant acronym (DREAM), feels like a gift in itself.

Your reflections on tribal politics, NGO work, and leadership speak to the challenges that real reformers face. And your mention of Cadre Gen. Bol Madut Bol and Chief Sultan Dhor Ariik Mawien paints a powerful picture of continuity, strength, and responsibility.

Please do continue—your words carry wisdom, and I would love to hear more of your story when you’re ready. 🤍

With care, Anita

(Thinking about you, Joanna) How are you holding up? I can only imagine how heavy things must feel right now. I’d love to hear more from you when you’re ready. With care, Anita

Kshitij (email), July 10: Dear Anita, Thank you for your last message, and for so kindly checking on me… A couple of things that happened recently which I would like to share with you — At the very last minute, things seem to have fallen in place for my Phd funding in Oxford, full credit to my supervisor!… It seems I will be staying in Oxford, which to be honest, I did want… My therapist remarked in the last session that I have been living on the edge, and that is how I would like to define myself and my current state. I am always living on the edge, walking on eggshells. My anxiety is terrible… I am not self-diagnosing or anything, but what I am doing right now with rechecking and recalculating feels like pure OCD. An element of self-harm is present even here because I sometimes feel I should punch myself or hurt myself when I think about my mistakes. That is all from me right now. On one hand I am excited about the developments happening recently, but I also get very anxious frequently and end up ruminating. I hope everything is fine with you, and you are doing well! Looking forward to hearing from you. Thanks,
Kshitij
Anita, July 10: So good to read back from you, Kshitij! Will reply tomorrow.
Anita, July 11: Dear Kshitij: Your message holds so much—the joy of promising news, and the weight of an inner struggle that’s clearly exhausting. First, huge congratulations on the PhD funding finally coming through! Oxford is lucky to have you. I hope that offer letter arrives soon and brings with it the kind of reassurance that might help soften the mental noise, even just a little.

I hear how painful the post-exam spiral has been. That inner dialogue—rechecking, recalculating, questioning what could’ve been avoided—it sounds punishing. And the fact that it followed you into what should have been restorative travel speaks volumes about how persistent and invasive the anxiety has become. You’re right: it’s not just worry, it’s fixation. And that takes a toll.

I’m really glad you’re seeking support with your therapist—especially for tomorrow’s emergency session. That’s a courageous step and a vital one. Living “on the edge,” as you described, is unsustainable. You deserve peace in your body, your mind, and your daily life.

There’s so much you’re carrying: the academic pressure, the invisible weight of internal standards, and a mind that’s been trained to keep scanning for what might go wrong. But I also see someone who’s self-aware, thoughtful, and actively reaching toward clarity. That matters.

You aren’t alone in this, and you aren’t broken. You’re a brilliant, sensitive human navigating high-stakes terrain with real insight. Please keep speaking to the people who hold space for you. You deserve care, compassion, and inner quiet.

And I’m here, always. 🤍

Warmly, Anita

Dear Lulu:

Thank you for sharing all of this—it sounds like you handled an incredibly intense moment with patience, love, and real courage.

Your boyfriend’s reaction to the movie—shutting down, repeating phrases, feeling dread, and later crying—sounds like something deep and unresolved was stirred up. These kinds of responses can happen when someone is faced with something that reminds their body or mind of trauma they’ve buried or can’t remember clearly.

You did the right thing by turning off the movie, checking in, and staying close. None of this is your fault. His panic, confusion, and emotional pain aren’t caused by you—they’re signs that something painful might have been hiding underneath for a long time.

His discomfort with certain kinds of touch, his lack of clear childhood memories, and what he said about feeling “gross” all suggest he could be carrying trauma. And whether or not he remembers details, what matters now is how he feels—and that he gets help to work through it.

Since he’s heading to college soon, I really recommend checking whether his school offers free or low-cost therapy or counseling. Most colleges do, and it could be a safe way for him to begin talking with someone professionally.

For now:

Keep things calm and gentle—he may just need quiet company more than words.

Don’t push him to remember or explain things right now. That can feel overwhelming or even scary.

Take care of yourself, too. Supporting someone through emotional pain is hard, and your safety matters just as much.

You’re already doing something meaningful—helping someone feel less alone during a really vulnerable time. Please reach out anytime you want to talk or need support. You’re not alone in this. 🤍

With care, Anita

Lulu, I will be reading what you posted in the morning (Thursday night here).

Anita

You are welcome< Emma! Looking forward to your answer tomorrow.

🤍 Anita

Dear Ada:

Thank you for sharing so openly. Your message reflects not just frustration—but emotional depth, introspection, and a real desire to understand what’s happening within and around you. There’s no shame in how you feel. You’re trying to hold space for your own emotional truth while also honoring someone else’s bond, and that’s incredibly hard.

One of my first thoughts reading your story was whether your boyfriend had a sister growing up—or if not, perhaps this woman fills that emotional role for him. The kind of intimacy he shares with her sounds familial, in a way that’s deep but non-romantic to him. For some people, this kind of relationship can feel grounding and unthreatening. But that doesn’t mean it automatically feels safe to the person they’re in a romantic partnership with.

You’ve described moments that speak to complex emotional entanglement—not betrayal, but blurred boundaries. And even if there’s no physical intimacy, emotional intimacy can carry weight. You’ve clearly worked to make sense of your own reactions, which include:

Jealousy and insecurity that aren’t rooted in distrust but in emotional displacement

A sense that your boundaries aren’t fully seen or understood, especially when your style of connection differs so much from hers

Guilt for resenting something meaningful to him, even while it continues to hurt you

What’s particularly insightful is how you’ve noticed the asymmetry—your restraint in pursuing certain male friendships out of respect, and the discomfort in seeing his openness with her. Even if he truly believes he’d be fine with you having similar friendships, what matters most is that you don’t feel safe or valued within this dynamic.

This isn’t about whether you’re rational—your feelings make sense in context. It’s about emotional compatibility, emotional safety, and whether both of you can respect each other’s boundaries without trying to fix or change what the other naturally feels.

You’re right to say that boundaries aren’t something you should have to impose. Ideally, they’re co-created—mutually understood and willingly honored. When they’re not, compromise can feel like self-erasure rather than teamwork.

So maybe the question becomes:

Can he truly empathize with your emotional world, even if it differs from his own?

Can you both talk about boundaries without one of you feeling like the problem?

Could this relationship genuinely honor your discomfort instead of trying to rationalize it or brush it aside?

And if the answer isn’t clear—then therapy (individual or couples) might be a space to unpack this dynamic with support.

You deserve peace in your relationship, not just reassurance. And your feelings don’t need to be “fixed”—they need to be heard, especially by the person closest to you.

🤍 Anita

Dear Gregory:

Thank you so much for your thoughtful message—your warmth, your loyalty, and your belief in the people around you really shine through. I’m honored you consider me a friend you can count on.

It’s amazing to hear about your travels to China—your excitement is contagious! It does sound like you’re experiencing things that feel almost futuristic. And I’m so glad to hear your kids are doing well in Nairobi. That’s such a blessing.

Your wife sounds like an extraordinary woman—strong, principled, and deeply committed to reform. Stepping into such a politically charged environment and choosing integrity over compromise shows true courage. I can only imagine the weight she’s carrying and the resistance she might face. But with people like you beside her—and with a vision as bold as aiming for a ministerial position—she has a real chance to make lasting change.

I admire how you stand behind her, not just as a partner, but as someone who truly believes in her ability to lead. That kind of emotional and strategic support is rare and powerful. Reform work is never easy—especially when tribal politics and corruption add extra layers of complexity. But if anyone can help tip the scales toward accountability and fairness, it sounds like she can.

I’m grateful to be included in this. If there’s anything I can do to support or reflect with you, I’m here. Your message reminded me how much strength lives in community—especially when we rally behind someone’s dream.

With care and respect, Anita 😊

Dear Alecsee:

This is a long message, so thanks in advance for reading. I’ve spent some time revisiting our conversations—starting back in March 2019—and wanted to reflect on something I’ve noticed that feels important.

In your post two days ago, you said:

“I think after that I got kind of in a panic mode and I started making rash moves.”-

That moment speaks to something I’ve seen across your stories: a deep fear of being left behind. This panic, this anxiety isn’t just about losing the relationship—it’s about losing emotional safety and self-worth tied to connection.

You also said:

“I always feel like I lose part of myself when I move on… and become a hollow shell of my empty self.”-

That line suggests that relationships have become so tied to your sense of identity, that when they end, it doesn’t just feel like loss—it feels like disappearing, which is common in anxious attachment and unresolved abandonment wounds,

Over the years, you’ve shared moments that reflect this same pattern:

Feeling desperate to keep someone close, even when the relationship feels shaky.

Struggling with overthinking and racing thoughts, especially after an argument or breakup.

Jumping into new connections quickly, hoping to fill that emptiness.

Blaming yourself when someone pulls away—and questioning what you did wrong.

Sometimes this can be linked to what therapists call anxious preoccupied attachment style. It means wanting closeness badly, but fearing rejection or abandonment. You’ve said things like:

“I haven’t been able to focus at work… I really don’t want our story to end.” “Since the breakup I’ve gone really hard to chase women…” “Honestly… it’s not a good and healthy relationship but I still want to be connected with her.”-

That last one especially reminded me of something from childhood—how kids cling to caregivers even when they’re hurtful or distant. Not because the relationship with them is healthy, but because the fear of losing connection feels too heavy to bear. From my experience, even though my relationship with my mother was terrible (she was abusive), I desperately clung to her nonetheless.. because I was too scared to be completely alone.

In your latest posts a couple of hours ago, you wrote:

“Should I wait to tell her my confession after a few days? It was it meant to be there at the last conversation?…Or am I worrying about this too much and should just let it go? Maybe I should have said…”-

That mental back-and-forth is part of what I’ve come to recognize in you. Thoughts spiraling back and forth between what you should’ve said, what you might still say, and how it might be received. That kind of overthinking usually shows up when there’s a lot of emotional pressure underneath and it can make it hard to hear your own needs clearly. And that’s not weakness—it’s just what happens when emotional stress gets too high.

You’ve been carrying a lot. Anxiety, regret, heartbreak, and the hope that someone will choose you completely. But here’s something gentle to think about: maybe this isn’t about saying the perfect thing at the perfect time. Maybe it’s about giving yourself space. Soothing the part of you that feels panicked, uncertain, and scared to lose love again.

This might not be about whether she chooses you. It might be about whether you’re ready to start choosing yourself.

And for that kind of shift, therapy could help. Especially a therapist who understands fear of abandonment, anxious attachment, and how hard it can be to regulate emotions when you’ve been hurt. You deserve a place where you can talk honestly, feel safe, and start healing patterns that have been exhausting you for years.

If you ever feel ready to explore where some of these patterns come from, I wonder what your early relationships looked like—how emotions were handled, how connection felt growing up. No pressure to answer, but sharing those memories can often bring clarity to the present.

You’ve already done so much self-reflection. That’s a powerful step. You don’t need to carry this alone anymore.

With care, Anita