What if you heard the word you were dying to hear?
“Take What You Need” An extension of The UNBecoming
In the process of unbecoming, I’ve realized just how many layers of myself have sought validation, affirmation, & acceptance. Versions of me that longed to be forgiven, that held a heart full of anger, that wanted to be seen, chosen, or simply told I was enough.
Whewww.
None of those versions served me to my benefit, but that didn’t make them exist any less. They lived inside me. Quiet & heavy. Unresolved.
A core part of this project is healing: tending to the deep wounds I’ve carried since childhood, & even the more superficial nicks from recent years. “Take What You Need” was born from that. An extension of The UNBecoming, it’s a community-oriented installation that acts as a small offering meant to ease pain, soften longing aches, or at least lead the versions of myself (& others) a little closer to reconciliation.
When I first began imagining what the installation would look like, I didn’t want it to feel like a static wall. I wanted it to breathe, to invite you in. I strung each envelope with fishing wire so it would seem suspended in air. As if the letters were gently hovering, waiting to be chosen. To me, that sense of lightness mattered: the words & messages themselves might be heavy, but the act of reaching for them could feel weightless.
Each envelope carries a phrase on the outside. Something you might need to hear. Inside is a letter written to the one who felt that particular ache. As a small, playful detail, I added stamps. Sometimes the words might call out to you; other times it might be the color or design of a stamp that caught your eye. It leans into the fact that healing doesn’t always come through logic. Sometimes it comes through instinct, through something you can’t quite explain.
After the debut of the installation, a friend told me his wife had chosen one of the envelopes to give to him. He was shocked by the sheer number of letters. 33 in total (& I’m currently writing more). He asked, “How did you come up with all of these? Are these all feelings you’ve felt within yourself?”
My answer was yes. And also: not entirely.
Each letter represents a piece of my own story, but not every ache cut me deeply. Some were wounds I wrestled with for years, others were fleeting pains that appeared in certain relationships or contexts. Still, as I revisit the letters now, I find them more & more (& moreee) relatable. Each one speaks to a scar I carry. Trauma that may not have defined me, but that nonetheless left its mark.
The wall is not just mine. It’s a mirror. A place for anyone to pause, soften, & perhaps hear the words they’ve been waiting for. At its core, it’s also a reminder of our interconnectedness as human beings. We live in such divisive times, & it’s important to remember how much we truly share. Especially the pains & traumas we carry. No matter your gender, ethnicity, or background.
It’s my hope to create more experiences like this. Ones that move, inspire, & heal. While I’ve loved the journey of creating the micro-film series, I’ve also found that in-person events & activations add another, tangible layer of expression. The people I’ve met & the conversations I’ve had through this project have been moving, humbling, & affirming to say the least.
I’ll plan to share future pop-ups (see what’s in store here) through the Chat feature here on Substack, but I also encourage you to follow the new accounts I’ve created for the installation on Instagram & TikTok. I’ll be sharing letters digitally there as well, so even if you can’t make it to a pop-up in person, the words can still find you.
And if you want to explore the project on a more intimate level, consider becoming a paid subscriber & diving into The UNBecoming Reset: a six week guide to your own unraveling & return.
