I know what it is to be left behind. Not by moving, not by choice, but by life deciding for me. My best and only friend left for a high school year in Iowa, and I stayed. Not because I wanted to, but because suddenly, I was a sibling, and wouldn’t it be a shame if I missed my brother’s first year? Canada was gone before it had ever been real.
I have lost more people than I can count—not just to distance, but to death, to decisions, to the slow erosion of connection until there was nothing left. What remains today? A threadbare tie to my one living brother, and one friendship that traces back to the sandpit. Everything else unraveled.
And yet, we adjust. We cope. And if we have truly loving people around us, they see us hurting, they see our loneliness, they feel with us—not as outsiders observing pain, but as people who know it themselves. They hold space for us, let us cry, let us be held, let us feel less alone. Not trying to fix it, not trying to explain it away, just being there. Because that’s what care looks like. That’s what appreciation feels like.
For the longest time, I thought relationship-loss meant *I* was the reason. That I was bad, wrong, unworthy, and that’s why people left. Today, I know that isn’t true. Some people don’t have the capacity to stay, not because of me, but because of where they are in their own lives. Some are tangled in their own trauma. Some see me living unapologetically and can’t bear the reflection of their own unlived life. Some leave because they need to, because the connection was never meant to last forever. And sometimes, I have to be the one to leave—because survival demands it, because an abusive or unsustainable relationship will never be worth the cost of staying.
The biggest gift isn’t in controlling how things unfold. It’s in being there when they don’t go as planned. In standing witness to the moments that hurt, instead of turning away.
I worked through an early childhood memory today. My little Judilie—four, maybe five—was bullied. Name-calling, mobbing, pushing. She was brave, she didn’t cry, she didn’t hit back, she swallowed it all. And when she came home, hoping for comfort, hoping to hear that what those kids did was not okay, she didn’t get it. No validation. No holding. No “Come here, let me take care of you.” Just, “Don’t be like that.” “Pull yourself together.” “It’s nothing.”
Except it wasn’t nothing. It never was. And I see her now, that little one, holding all that pain alone because the ones who should have seen her, didn’t.
And maybe that’s what all of this comes back to—the difference between being left behind, and being left alone.
Jay, thank you so much for reading my letter today and for reflecting so deeply with your story here. I love your words about the gift is in surrender- not about controlling the outcome. I have been watching myself closely- learning where I try to hold onto that control, and where I let it go with ease.
Enveloping you into a warm embrace and sending deep thanks for your presence. Xx
Kaylen, thank you for your words and for sharing this space with me. That awareness—seeing where control creeps in and where ease allows something else to unfold—that’s powerful.
I don’t see it as letting go, not in the way it’s often meant. Trying to *let go* can feel like trying to throw something away, only to have it come right back, again and again. What I’ve found is that it’s less about release and more about integration. Seeing what’s there, understanding it, making space for something new—not to erase the past, but to shift how it moves through me.
Holding your words close and sending warmth right back to you. xx
Oh K! I wish I could hug you. Those fears are so familiar.
Also, you've made me remember my first friend - her name was Melissa and we met in kindergarten. We played Barbies together and were always teamed up because our last names were right next to each other. She moved away in 1st grade and I cried so hard I thought I'd never stop. We kept in touch, writing letters all the way through 6th grade. Once jr. high and high school came, we lost touch. I somehow ended up connecting with her when we'd turned 21, we met up at the House of Blues, danced and caught up with each other's lives, but it wasn't the same, so we said "so great to see you. Let's do this again some day." And that was our goodbye.
First friends and first loves are never forgotten, they shape us for better or worse. Same with our kiddos. I have no doubt that your boy, Augie, will love you always no matter what, no matter the miles. Cherish what you've got right now and as you grow through the good and bad, remember the littlest things that anchor you - what you're creating right now <3
I love that you thought of Melissa. I love that your run-in and plans for a meet up turned out to be the way Goodbye was said. Sometimes leaving that sliver of hope open helps ease the pain for me.
You are magical and I appreciate you being here with your magical words and tangible support. 🩵🩵
I didn't expect to be crying into my breakfast burrito this morning. I had to just put it down and succumb to the tears when you hugged Michael, and I'm glad I did because fresh waves came when you talked about Auggie growing up and your relationship changing and I DO NOT WANT THIS. NO THANK YOU. Oh my goodness, friend. You are such a gifted storyteller and such a beautiful soul. Thank you. 💕
My favorite Lamb!! 🐑 first, happy belated birthday- may Augie and I send you a card??
And also- thank you for reading today (and all the days)
Please let’s link arms for when the time comes that our chicklets are ready to fly, I DONT WANT IT EITHER! Maybe we can get ourselves fancy side-cars and trial behind them? 😅
Yes to fancy side cars!!! And I will absolutely link arms with you, this may be the key. I would also LOVE a card, of course! I’ll message you with my address!
Kaylen,
I know what it is to be left behind. Not by moving, not by choice, but by life deciding for me. My best and only friend left for a high school year in Iowa, and I stayed. Not because I wanted to, but because suddenly, I was a sibling, and wouldn’t it be a shame if I missed my brother’s first year? Canada was gone before it had ever been real.
I have lost more people than I can count—not just to distance, but to death, to decisions, to the slow erosion of connection until there was nothing left. What remains today? A threadbare tie to my one living brother, and one friendship that traces back to the sandpit. Everything else unraveled.
And yet, we adjust. We cope. And if we have truly loving people around us, they see us hurting, they see our loneliness, they feel with us—not as outsiders observing pain, but as people who know it themselves. They hold space for us, let us cry, let us be held, let us feel less alone. Not trying to fix it, not trying to explain it away, just being there. Because that’s what care looks like. That’s what appreciation feels like.
For the longest time, I thought relationship-loss meant *I* was the reason. That I was bad, wrong, unworthy, and that’s why people left. Today, I know that isn’t true. Some people don’t have the capacity to stay, not because of me, but because of where they are in their own lives. Some are tangled in their own trauma. Some see me living unapologetically and can’t bear the reflection of their own unlived life. Some leave because they need to, because the connection was never meant to last forever. And sometimes, I have to be the one to leave—because survival demands it, because an abusive or unsustainable relationship will never be worth the cost of staying.
The biggest gift isn’t in controlling how things unfold. It’s in being there when they don’t go as planned. In standing witness to the moments that hurt, instead of turning away.
I worked through an early childhood memory today. My little Judilie—four, maybe five—was bullied. Name-calling, mobbing, pushing. She was brave, she didn’t cry, she didn’t hit back, she swallowed it all. And when she came home, hoping for comfort, hoping to hear that what those kids did was not okay, she didn’t get it. No validation. No holding. No “Come here, let me take care of you.” Just, “Don’t be like that.” “Pull yourself together.” “It’s nothing.”
Except it wasn’t nothing. It never was. And I see her now, that little one, holding all that pain alone because the ones who should have seen her, didn’t.
And maybe that’s what all of this comes back to—the difference between being left behind, and being left alone.
Jay
Jay, thank you so much for reading my letter today and for reflecting so deeply with your story here. I love your words about the gift is in surrender- not about controlling the outcome. I have been watching myself closely- learning where I try to hold onto that control, and where I let it go with ease.
Enveloping you into a warm embrace and sending deep thanks for your presence. Xx
Kaylen, thank you for your words and for sharing this space with me. That awareness—seeing where control creeps in and where ease allows something else to unfold—that’s powerful.
I don’t see it as letting go, not in the way it’s often meant. Trying to *let go* can feel like trying to throw something away, only to have it come right back, again and again. What I’ve found is that it’s less about release and more about integration. Seeing what’s there, understanding it, making space for something new—not to erase the past, but to shift how it moves through me.
Holding your words close and sending warmth right back to you. xx
Oh K! I wish I could hug you. Those fears are so familiar.
Also, you've made me remember my first friend - her name was Melissa and we met in kindergarten. We played Barbies together and were always teamed up because our last names were right next to each other. She moved away in 1st grade and I cried so hard I thought I'd never stop. We kept in touch, writing letters all the way through 6th grade. Once jr. high and high school came, we lost touch. I somehow ended up connecting with her when we'd turned 21, we met up at the House of Blues, danced and caught up with each other's lives, but it wasn't the same, so we said "so great to see you. Let's do this again some day." And that was our goodbye.
First friends and first loves are never forgotten, they shape us for better or worse. Same with our kiddos. I have no doubt that your boy, Augie, will love you always no matter what, no matter the miles. Cherish what you've got right now and as you grow through the good and bad, remember the littlest things that anchor you - what you're creating right now <3
Love you bigger than the sky! Xoxo
I am run-jumping into your arms, MK!!
I love that you thought of Melissa. I love that your run-in and plans for a meet up turned out to be the way Goodbye was said. Sometimes leaving that sliver of hope open helps ease the pain for me.
You are magical and I appreciate you being here with your magical words and tangible support. 🩵🩵
This was so f#$%ing good Kaylen!!! 🤯
The way you wrote about this "comically ordinary" part of your experience (which I think is a hilarious profile bio 🤣) was superb!
OMFG, *theeeee* JAMAL ROBINSON IN THE HOUSE?! 😭
Consider me honored, blessed, living on cloud 9... THANK YOU FOR READING & FOR THE BIO PROPS?!
LADIES & GENTLEMEN- this is what JOY looks like.
Thank you for sprinkling your supersonic-stardust upon me today, JR.
I cannot tell you how deeply your work inspires me (and so many of us). ✨
Well now I’m blushing 🥹
Grateful for you and for this opportunity to see you through your stories 🫶🏽
I didn't expect to be crying into my breakfast burrito this morning. I had to just put it down and succumb to the tears when you hugged Michael, and I'm glad I did because fresh waves came when you talked about Auggie growing up and your relationship changing and I DO NOT WANT THIS. NO THANK YOU. Oh my goodness, friend. You are such a gifted storyteller and such a beautiful soul. Thank you. 💕
My favorite Lamb!! 🐑 first, happy belated birthday- may Augie and I send you a card??
And also- thank you for reading today (and all the days)
Please let’s link arms for when the time comes that our chicklets are ready to fly, I DONT WANT IT EITHER! Maybe we can get ourselves fancy side-cars and trial behind them? 😅
Yes to fancy side cars!!! And I will absolutely link arms with you, this may be the key. I would also LOVE a card, of course! I’ll message you with my address!
❤️❤️🎈🎈🐋
❤️🥰