Dear Lucidity:

I’ve watched several of your videos, and what really stands out to me is the unique and professional quality of the production. The person behind the camera did an excellent job—there’s a clear sense of care, skill, and intention in the way everything is filmed. It’s genuinely fascinating to watch you bake a carrot cake, sew clothes, or move through simple, everyday tasks. The high-quality visuals, paired with your quiet, soft voice, give these ordinary moments a sense of beauty and calm—something quietly extraordinary.

Your presence is also striking: unassuming, modest, and grounded. Your gentle voice and calm delivery create such a peaceful atmosphere—it’s easy to feel at ease while watching.

The messages you share are powerful and deeply meaningful. A few that stayed with me:

You are worthy of your dreams at any age.

The power to create the future you want lies within you.

One step at a time is the only way to work toward anything.

True ethical living requires practicing self-compassion and prioritizing our mental and emotional health as the foundation for genuine outward compassion.

And of course, Hippocrates’s timeless wisdom: “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.”

One difficulty I had, particularly with the videos on healing and grit, was understanding the spoken words. The pronunciation wasn’t always clear to me, and I found myself struggling to follow along. Eventually, I lost patience trying to decipher the message, which was frustrating—because I truly wanted to hear what you had to say.

Still, I deeply appreciate the heart and thought you put into your work. It’s clear that what you’re offering is meaningful, sincere, and created with care.

Anita 🤍

I wanted to add, Alessa: your very, very unfortunate experience with your bio mother feels so similar to my own experience with my mother: things you shared about today, and things you shared about in deleted threads.

You and I have so much in common in this regard, I feel.

The drowning trauma- I have this everyday tic, multiple times a day, where I am gasping for air, as if drowning.

It could be because she used to force feed me by blocking my nose with her fingers, so I had to open my mouth, and then.. she forced food into that opening (my mouth).

And her threat, “I will murder you!”- we have this in common as well.

Anything I can do, Alessa, to help or to just be present with you as you go through these struggles.. Please let me know.

Anita

Dear Emma:

Reading your message, I was struck by how deeply you’re feeling and reflecting—and also by how often you seem to question whether your emotions are valid. That reminded me of something important: emotional invalidation in childhood, and how it quietly shapes our lives long after we’ve grown.

When a child’s emotions are dismissed, criticized, or ignored—whether through silence, mockery, or overreaction—they learn that their feelings are not safe or trustworthy. Over time, this can lead to chronic self-doubt, difficulty setting boundaries, and a constant need for others to confirm what we feel.

I saw this so clearly in your words:

“I constantly doubt myself… if getting angry about something is justified – which causes me to ask any of my friends/family if they would be angry in that moment, so I know if I am allowed to be.”- This is such a clear example of emotional invalidation’s legacy—needing others to confirm your right to feel.

“I guess I felt like I may have had control over myself if I would have thought more clearly…”- That belief—that emotions are a failure of logic—is something many of us carry when our feelings were treated as problems rather than signals.

When we grow up without emotional validation, it’s like being a ship out at sea with no way to steer. Our emotions are supposed to help guide us—they tell us what feels right or wrong, what we need, and when we’ve been hurt. But if we’re taught to ignore our emotions, or think they’re wrong, we lose that guidance. We end up letting other people’s opinions, moods, or expectations decide things for us. We feel lost—not because we’re weak, but because no one ever showed us how to trust what we feel.

Emma, your feelings have always made sense. You didn’t do anything wrong by feeling deeply—you were just trying to survive in a world that didn’t know how to support you. And now, you’re doing something really strong: you’re learning to listen to yourself again, to trust your feelings, and to find your own way.

You don’t need permission to feel. You already have the right.

With care, Anita 🤍

Dear Alessa:

Thank you for sharing so openly. Your words carry such quiet strength and honesty—I felt them.

What you said about getting lost in intense emotion really resonated with me. That feeling of being consumed, of not knowing where the emotion ends and where you begin… I know that space. And I also know how powerful it is to take that first step back—to begin building safety, even if it’s just a little at a time.

I loved what you said here: “Emotion, in itself, is not the problem. The thoughts, the feelings, the expectations attached to it.” That’s such a clear and compassionate truth. It reminds me that emotion isn’t the enemy—it’s the stories we attach to it that can make it feel unbearable.

And your reflection on expectations—how being hopeful and surprised by change can lead to self-blame—that touched me. There’s something so human in that. I think many of us carry that quiet ache of “I should have known” when really, we were just doing our best with the understanding we had.

The idea of living alongside the pain instead of trying to erase it—that feels like a kind of wisdom that only comes through experience. It’s not resignation—it’s grace.

Thank you again for your presence here. You didn’t ramble at all. You shared something real, and I’m grateful for it. ❤️

Warmly, Anita 🤍

Dear Emma:

I’m not very focused at the moment and didn’t get to read everything in your most recent post—so I’ll just respond to a few parts, quoting them and offering some thoughts:

“Thank you for being here, Anita, it means a lot.”- And thank you, Emma, for being here. It means a lot to me too 🙂

“But what do you think has made him feel most unsafe? Would it have been the hot-cold, or me calling him ‘disrespectful’ and ‘very judgmental’ in that discussion?”- It might have been those things—but I wonder if what felt most unsafe was the moment you contacted him after he blocked you, and when you showed up at his building uninvited. That could have crossed a boundary he wasn’t prepared to navigate.

“So…you think it may not automatically be he does not like me at all, anymore?”- I truly can’t imagine anyone not liking you, Emma. You’re thoughtful, sensitive, and always trying to understand—qualities that I admire!

“That sounds tough as well, your mother constantly doubting your words—it sounds like she was afraid you would criticize her while you were not at all!”- That’s very perceptive—and honestly, I hadn’t thought of it that way until you said it. She really was afraid of being criticized, even when I wasn’t criticizing her. Thank you for helping me see that.

“Oh, if I may ask, was your self-hate based on anything that had happened before, or something your parents said or so?”- Yes, mostly things my mother said—over and over, in ways that settled deep inside. I only have one memory of my father before he left, when I was about five or six. Neither of them seemed to think or feel much about me emotionally. I wasn’t even an afterthought.

“He also seemed afraid women would take advantage of him—it was a theme in many stories he told me.”- That recurring fear of being taken advantage of—especially by women—makes me worry even more about the chance of him reconnecting with you. 😔 It’s not your fault, and not something you can fix, but it does shape how he sees closeness.

This weekend will be busy for me, and I may not have much time or energy to write until Monday. It’s possible I’ll check in sooner, but I’m not sure yet.

You’re welcome to reply to what I’ve written here—maybe just a short note so I can respond a little. I’m looking forward to talking more next week. Please take good care of yourself until then.

Warmly, Anita 🤍