But this is not the kind of creative I want.

These are exactly the thoughts I wish I could ignore because they are the toxic ones.

They make sure that even the smallest change in someone’s attitude can become something huge in my emotional state.

And before I know it, I start questioning myself:

Did I do something wrong?
Maybe now everyone is going to hate me.
Nothing will ever be the same.

And I know you have probably experienced these types of thoughts too.

For as long as I can remember, I made myself responsible for everyone else’s emotions but my own.

And if you have done the same, I bet you know how exhausting it is.

To the point where I would tell myself that if I kept everyone happy, I would be loved and accepted by everyone.

And my mind would only stay calm when everything seemed fine and everyone’s mood felt the same.

But all it took was for me to feel that someone was acting differently with me, and I would immediately start questioning and blaming myself.

I would convince myself that I must have done something wrong and start feeling like I was the worst person in the world.

This feeling is so painful.

Not many people talk about it, but I am sure so many of us live with this extreme pressure to prioritize everyone else’s emotions before our own.

And the worst part is not only feeling responsible for them. It comes down to blaming ourselves for how they feel.

My mind has worked like this for 29 years. It only knew how to go to extremes.

Either everything was amazing or everything was compleately catastrophic.

And living like that was tormenting.

Because without realizing it, I was condemning the younger version of me, the teenage version, and even my adult version.

I was making them live a life where my peace depended on how everyone else around me was feeling.

Have you ever stopped to think about how unstable that is?
How completely out of our control it is?

I made them live a life full of guilt and responsibility that I should have never accepted in the first place.

But it is never too late.

It is never too late to rewire the way you approach things and think.

And is hard when you have thought this way for your whole life.

I know for a fact that I cannot stop myself from noticing when someone is acting differently. It is part of my DNA and my essence, but what I can do is change what happens in my head after I notice it.

If you feel seen in this article and you do the same, please know that you cannot be responsible for someone else’s emotions.

And most importantly, don’t let your mind immediately go to extremes and allow it to unfairly blame you.

That is why I want to share two things I have started doing when my mind tries to take me back to my old thoughts.

1. What do I actually know, and what am I imagining?

For example:

What I know: They are quieter than usual.
What my mind tells me: They are angry with me, they are going to tell everyone, everyone will hate me, and I have ruined everything.

When I see both next to each other, I can actually see how much of the story actually came from me.

The person was quieter, and that is the only piece of information I actually know.

Everything else was something my mind had already created for me.

And this is exactly the kind of creation I want to stop.

2. What are three other possible reasons they could be acting differently?

The second thing I do is force myself to come up with three other reasons why that person might be acting differently.

They could be tired.
They could be distracted.
They could be dealing with something in their own life that I know nothing about.

This helps me so much because my brain does not naturally give me those options.

It usually gives me only one, the most catastrophic one.

It is because of you.

So, making myself think of three other possibilities reminds me that the first explanation my mind gives me is not necessarily the truth.

It becomes just one possibility among many.

These two different ways of approaching my thoughts are helping me so much with my anxiety, but also with the way I see my own value.

I am not responsible for everything.

Taking that weight off has been such a relief.

If you feel this article can help others stop blaming themselves for taking responsibility for other people’s emotions and they don’t yet know how to rewire their thoughts, please share it with them 🙏🏼

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If you have been doing this your whole life too, please think about the little version of yourself.

The one who kept blaming themselves because they did not know what else to do.

It was never their job to carry so much responsibility they couldn’t control.

If you said you are learning not to, or you don’t do this at all, please share with us in the comments any advice that might help those of us who are still learning to stop blaming ourselves and feeling responsible for everyone else’s emotions.

With love,

My Unsent Letters,
AB.

Usually, they are not the people who sit you down and give you advice. They are the people you quietly watch.

And when you are highly sensitive, you probably notice more than people realize.

You remember how someone stayed calm and positive when everything seemed to be going wrong.
You notice how they say yes before they know exactly how to do it because they trust themselves to figure it out along the way.
You admire how easily they share an idea you would have rehearsed ten times before saying out loud.

But more than anything, you remember how they made you feel.

That is exactly how I learned from three friends I met while working in Barcelona.

They never tried to teach me anything. They were simply being themselves, and without realizing it, they were showing me new ways to trust myself too.

Lesson 1: Start today. Don’t wait to feel confident.

This lesson is thanks to Carla. She is the kind of person who goes after what she wants. When she believes in something, she does not wait until she feels completely ready or until every fear disappears. She just goes for it, always with this incredibly positive attitude.

Today, she is an amazing mother and the founder of Posdata V, a beautiful shoe brand with so much personality.

I admired this so much about her because I was the complete opposite.

I could recognize talent in everyone around me and still convince myself there was nothing particularly special about mine. And once you believe that, you stop giving your ideas a chance before they even start.

I have kept so many ideas and projects to myself because I had already decided that someone more talented should be the one bringing them to life.

As a highly sensitive person, I feel everything deeply. I did not understand that my mind was processing more. I only saw myself getting tired, anxious, or afraid, and assumed that meant I was not capable.

I confused being overwhelmed with not being talented enough.

Carla never exactly told me to believe in myself or look at things more positively.

She simply kept betting on her ideas and facing every difficulty with the most positive attitude I had ever seen in someone.

Watching her made me realize how many ideas I had abandoned before giving them a real chance.

She never told me to stop doubting myself but she just simply made me wonder what my life could look like if I stopped walking away from everything I wanted before I had even tried.

Lesson 2: Say yes before you know exactly how. You will figure it out.

Ker was my manager, but somewhere along the way, she became something like an older sister to me.

Of all the things she taught me, one of the most important was self-confidence.

At the agency, clients would sometimes ask us to do something completely outside our scope.

Ker would still say, “Of course. We can do it.”

And after the meeting, I would ask her, “Do you actually know how to do it?”

She would laugh and say, “No, but we will figure it out.”

I am not going to lie. This made me so nervous at the time. But Ker knew how to trust herself.

I was the complete opposite. I needed proof that I could do something before I could promise it.

But watching her made me realize how often I had been underestimating myself.

Every time she said yes to something she had never done before, she eventually found a way to make it happen.

Lately, I have been trying to do the same. I have started saying yes to things I was not completely sure I could do, and every time, I have found a way to figure them out and deliver.

And maybe you need to hear this too.

You do not need proof that you can do it before you begin. Let yourself feel terrified, and figure it out anyway.

Lesson 3: Stop being invisible and let yourself be seen.

Dayanna has always had a natural way of connecting with people.

She speaks her mind without being afraid of judgment, and she has no problem speaking to a camera for the whole world to see.

I admired that because I had always been afraid of being too visible.

Maybe being called “too shy” or “too sensitive” when I was younger made me believe it was safer to hide parts of myself.

I started thinking there was something wrong with my personality, so I learned to keep my emotions, my opinions, and so much of who I was to myself, just to avoid being rejected.

Dayanna did not teach me to stop caring about what people think. Honestly, I am not sure I ever will, and that is okay.

But she taught me that I could care and still speak. That fear did not have to stop me from sharing what I think or from letting people know who I am.

Because why should I keep making myself invisible?

I still overthink what I share. I still imagine how people might judge me.

But I no longer want fear to decide how much of me the world gets to know.

And maybe you are tired of hiding too.

Please use your voice.

Let it help someone feel seen and let it remind someone that they are not alone.

This letter is for Carla, Ker, and Dayanna, three of my closest friends from Barcelona.

This is actually the first time I am telling them what I learned from each of them and how often those lessons still show up in my everyday life.

And as you finish reading this, maybe someone comes to mind. Someone who taught you something without ever knowing it.

Someone who has no idea that a part of the way you live today came from them.

Maybe it is time to tell them. And if you are not ready yet, you can tell me instead.

Who came to mind, and what did they teach you?

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With love,

My Unsent Letters,
AB.

In the first one, a teacher has her hand on my shoulder, and she is smiling, but I am clearly not. I can see how stiff my body is, and even though I had been told to smile for the photo, it looks like I am trying so hard to keep my distance.

In the second photograph, I am standing beside another teacher, hugging her, smiling, and feeling comfortable around her.

Maybe, without context, you would look at them and see two ordinary school photographs.

However, they brought back so many memories and feelings.

In them, I see a little girl telling the truth with her face and body long before she had the words or courage to explain out loud how she felt.

That is why I want to write an unsent letter to each teacher from my younger self, the little girl who was too afraid to speak up.

And I want to ask every parent, or simply any adult who knows a highly sensitive child, to please, please make them feel safe and never make them feel like there is something wrong with them.

They will feel every word you say deeply, and it stays with them.

💌 Letter to C.

You made me believe I needed to be fixed

I do not remember every lesson you taught me, but I remember so well what I learned about myself in your classroom.

I was constantly told that I was too shy and too quiet by you.
You would tell me over and over that I needed to participate more and speak louder.

Sometimes you would even put me on the spot in front of everyone and point out how shy I was and that it was my turn to speak.

Maybe you believed that exposing me would motivate me to speak up, but I was very young, and for years, I only felt like there was something very wrong with my personality.

I started looking at the louder children as if they were the ones that were gifted and I had to be like them.

I tried so hard to be like them, to speak up and be loud, but I was never able to. Maybe I could never change that part of myself because it had always been part of my essence.

I am a highly sensitive person. Maybe you did not know what It means but this is why I notice the smallest changes in people’s voices and expressions, and I just need more time to process things before speaking.

My silence was never a lack of interest for your class. It was simply how I processed the world.

💌 Letter to E.

You made me feel safe enough to speak

I remember so well the time we had to give a presentation in front of the class.

I somehow managed to memorize it because I was too afraid and nervous to present alone, and I raised my hand to go first so I would not forget everything I had memorized.

You congratulated me in front of the whole class for having the courage to go first and speak out loud.

You never saw me as if I needed to be fixed.
You embraced me and celebrated whenever I found the courage to speak up.
You believed in me so much and made me feel safe enough that I felt I could speak louder without fear of judgment.

And I really wish more adults understood this the way you did.

I never got to thank you for helping me trust the voice I already had, but I just want you to know that I remember.

I remember the way you made me feel and how accepted and valued I felt by you.

💌 A letter to all of you.

What I wish every adult knew about highly sensitive children

I wish someone had explained to me when I was younger that my high sensitivity was not something to be ashamed of.

I only discovered a couple of years ago what it meant to be a highly sensitive person. When I read the description, I checked all the boxes and finally understood why I experienced the world the way I did.

In fact, now I know it is a gift because it allows me to notice more, feel more deeply, and connect with people and ideas in a very intentional way.

It makes us notice details that others miss, which can also make us deeply empathetic.

Please be the adult who helps a sensitive child understand those strengths instead of making them feel wrong for experiencing the world differently.

Sadly, for most of my life, the voice I carried was the one that told me I needed to change.

Also be very aware of the signs…

A child may never come home and tell you that their teacher, or someone else, makes them feel ashamed of who they are.

They may not understand what is happening well enough to explain it, but their body may say it first, like mine did in the photographs.

They may pull away from someone’s touch.
They may become smaller and speak less around the adult who makes them feel that way, yet act completely differently around someone else.

Please notice the change and always ask how they feel.

It is very important that they feel safe for their confidence to grow.

Remind them that they do not need to be fixed.

Those words may seem small to you, but for a child, they can become the voice they hear inside for the rest of their life.

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With love,

My Unsent Letters,
AB.

Sounds familiar? Have you ever heard of it?

If you have never heard of this word before, it is a Japanese concept that translates to “a reason for being.” It combines the words iki, to live, and gai, reason or value.

It describes the source of value in your life, or what makes your life feel worthwhile.

For me, it felt like a question my mind and body kept asking me over and over again:

Is the life you are building actually yours?

At the beginning of this year, I felt like I was my worst version. I felt like I was in a black hole, like I had hit rock bottom, but still had to keep functioning as if everything was fine.

And honestly, that question hit me harder than I expected.

Because I realized I had spent so many years doing what was expected of me.
By others.
By society.
By the version of success I thought I had to follow.

Working for big corporations.
Climbing a ladder I was never even sure I wanted.
Turning every achievement into proof that I was smart enough, strong enough, worthy enough.

And somehow, no matter how much I achieved, I still never felt like enough. Along the way, I started believing that being shy made me less capable. I held myself back, stayed quiet, and stopped speaking freely because the fear of being judged felt stronger than my own voice.

At the end of the day, the only thing I wanted was approval.
Approval from everyone else, but not from myself.
And that is a very painful place to live in.

Because you can be doing everything “right” and still feel completely disconnected from yourself.

You can have the job, the routine, the title, the plan, and still feel like something inside you is slowly dying.

Sometimes we confuse being on the “right path” with being on the path everyone recognizes.

But the version of yourself you are becoming does not have to make sense to everyone else.

It has to make sense to you.

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So I started asking myself the questions I had been avoiding.

• Do I want to have children?
  YES.

• Do I want to get married?
  YESSS. (I already did, and it was one of the best days and decisions I have made)

• Do I want to exercise 5 days a week?
  YES.

• Do I want to keep working in big corporations?
  NO.

And that last answer hit me hard.

Because sometimes the truth does not shock us because we didn’t know it.

It shocks us because deep down, we did.

We just spent years trying not to hear it.

For years, I thought being ambitious meant always achieving more.
Doing more.
Becoming more impressive.
Proving something.

But to prove what?

To prove who?

I don’t want you to think ikigai means waking up one day with a perfect answer and knowing exactly what your purpose is.

I don’t think it works that way.

At least it didn’t for me.

For months, I tried to force myself to find it.

I wanted a clear answer.
A sign.
A perfect plan.

Something that would tell me exactly what to do next.

I even thought about becoming an artist, doing ceramics for a living like my mom, or maybe becoming a breathing coach.

But maybe your ikigai finds you slowly.

In the questions you finally allow yourself to ask.

In the things your body no longer lets you ignore.

In the moments when you realize you don’t want to keep living a life that makes you wait for Friday and dread every Monday.

Maybe finding your ikigai starts by being honest enough to admit:

This life might look good, but it does not feel like mine.

And that is not failure.

That is information.

Your mind is powerful. Your body is powerful. And sometimes, before you are ready to say the truth out loud, your body already knows.

So today, I want to ask you something simple:

Are you happy?

Not “Are you successful?”
Not “Are people proud of you?”
Not “Does your life make sense to everyone else?”

But are you seriously happy?

If the answer is yes, I am truly happy for you.

But if you are unsure, or if there is a small part of you that feels disconnected, start there.

Start questioning.
Start listening.
Start getting honest with the version of yourself you have been ignoring.

Maybe finding your ikigai is not about creating a completely different life overnight.

Maybe it starts with one honest question:

Is this really the life I want?

And if you feel like sharing, I would love to know:

Do you think you have found your ikigai, or are you still searching for it?

With love,

My Unsent Letters,
AB.

Some people love you for who you are.

And some people love you so well that you begin to remember who you were before the world made you doubt yourself.

Oscar has done both for me.

I am not just saying this because he is my husband.
I say it because he met me after I had already spent years losing confidence in myself.

For years, I questioned everything about who I was.

Was I intelligent enough?
Talented enough?
Beautiful enough?
Brave enough?

I had spent so long being told that I was too sensitive, too complicated, and too quiet that I began to believe nothing I could say would ever be good enough.

So I made myself small, something I had become very good at.

I kept ideas inside my head because I assumed they were not worth sharing. I looked at other people and immediately decided they were more talented than me and could do everything better.

Even when something good happened, I called it luck. I always found a reason to believe I had not truly earned it.

Then Oscar came into my life, in a place and at a time I never expected, and he saw me differently.

He saw me as someone intelligent, creative, capable, beautiful, and deeply caring.

He saw all the good in me that I was no longer able to recognize.

Whenever I said, “I can’t,” he would stop me.

“What did you say?”

And he would wait until I rephrased it.

It may sound small, but little by little, it changed the voice inside my head.

Before Oscar, I had not only lost confidence in myself.
I had also started believing that I was somehow too difficult to love.

Oscar never tried to convince me with words or empty promises.

He showed me.

There was a time when I barely recognized myself. He held my hand so tightly that even when I tried to pull away, he did not let go.

He stayed.

He reminded me who I was when I had forgotten.
He made sure to make me laugh when I was hurting.
And he never made me feel harder to love, not even during my darkest moments.

With him, I did not have to become smaller.

He made me feel safe enough to slowly find my way back.

I also started writing here because of him.

He believed in my words before anyone else had the chance to read them.

And now, every time someone tells me they felt seen or less alone, I think of him.

Maybe, as you read this, you already know who your Oscar is.

It does not have to be a husband.
It can be a friend, a parent, a sibling, one of your children, a teacher, or anyone who believed in you when you had forgotten how to believe in yourself.

Go hug them. Thank them. Tell them that their belief changed the way you see yourself.

And then, be that Oscar for someone else.

A Small Note:

Oscar encouraged me to start writing here, and now I want to do the same for him.

He recently started his own Substack, where he writes about entrepreneurship, solopreneurship, AI, and the reality of building something on your own.

So today, I want to believe in his words as LOUDLY as he believed in mine.

He helped my words leave my head and find a place in the world.

This is my way of helping his words do the same.

If you are building something of your own, thinking about leaving your desk job, or know someone who would connect with his journey, subscribe to his Substack or share it with them.

Subscribe to Oscar’s Substack

With love,

My Unsent letters
AB.

Maybe I was not beautiful enough.
Not intelligent enough.
Not outgoing enough.

Or maybe I was simply not worth staying for.

I was still very young when I started measuring my value through the way other people treated me.

Maybe you know that feeling too.

Someone hurts you, but somehow, you blame yourself so much that you end up carrying the consequences of what they did.

You replay every conversation.
You examine every part of yourself.
You wonder whether being prettier, louder, easier, or less sensitive would have made them stay.

That is what I did.

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Every time I was cheated on, I became obsessed with the other person.

What did she have that I did not?
Was she prettier?
More interesting?
Maybe she was simply not as complicated as me?

And because I already believed something was wrong with me, I always found an answer that made me feel worse.

At least when there was someone else, I could convince myself there was a reason. But being left without a clear explanation hurt differently.

One day, everything seemed fine. The next, they decided to leave.

The coldness of it tormented me because I could not understand what I had done to deserve it.

Maybe being highly sensitive made me feel it even more deeply.
I questioned every word, every silence, and every moment because I could never imagine treating someone I claimed to love that way.

Every betrayal made me more insecure, more cautious, and more afraid of being fully me.

I compared myself constantly and made myself smaller.

So small that I began to silence Alessandra completely.

I did not allow her to think out loud, share her ideas, believe she was beautiful, or feel confident.

Most importantly, I did not allow her to fully trust people again.

And I am so sorry to that teenage version of Alessandra.

I am so sorry I made you believe so deeply that you were worth nothing.
I am sorry I blamed you for choices other people made.
I am sorry I compared you to everyone and treated their actions as proof that there was something wrong with you.

There was never anything wrong with you.

You were young.
You were sensitive.
You loved deeply.
You only wanted to feel chosen, and you did not yet understand that someone leaving and you being unworthy were never the same thing.

Maybe, while reading this, you are thinking of a younger version of yourself who deserves an apology too.

The version who was blamed when someone else broke your trust.
The version of you who stayed quiet because asking for more felt too risky.
The version who accepted less because losing them felt scarier than losing yourself.

Please tell that version of you what I am finally learning to tell mine:

You are worth so much more than the way someone treated you.

I am sorry I made you believe you were worth nothing. It was never true.
The right people will not only recognize your worth. They will help you see everything good in yourself that the wrong people made you question.

They will not make you compete for love or leave you constantly wondering where you stand. They will make you feel safe enough to stop blaming yourself for everything.

You deserve someone who stays through the good and the bad.

This article is written for that insecure teenage Alessandra whose confidence was destroyed.

I want to tell her that real love will find her.

It will come when she least expects it, in a place she would never have imagined, through a person she never would have expected.

It will be pure, honest, and respectful.
It will stay beside her during the darkest moments, when she barely recognizes herself, and it will love her exactly as she is.

Someone will hold her hand so tightly when she feels like she is losing herself.
They will believe in her, push her, and inspire her to become the best version of herself without ever asking her to become someone else.

Just be patient, Ale.
It will come.

Your worth was never dependent on who stayed.
Maybe they were simply never the right people for you.

You were always enough.

With love,

My Unsent Letters,
AB.

I know some of you may feel seen by this, so this article is for all of you, but with a special note for Sanchari, because she was the one who asked me:

“What did you do to fit in? And how did you start finding yourself back? Please write about it, would love to read your story!”

Questions like this allow you to get LOUD with me, and they also allow me to get LOUD with you by sharing a little more of my story.

For more than seven years, I worked in big corporations.

I think that was my way of fitting in.

I was taught that this was what success was supposed to look like:

• A big company that would give me a stable job.

• A title that made sense to others,

• And of course, good money. Because apparently, that is what makes you respected by society.

I was so wrong. And I was so mistaken for making myself believe that too.

This made me extremely unhappy.
I felt like I had no purpose.
Like I was living on autopilot, just doing what I had to do to survive the day.

I remember feeling a bit jealous of people who had something they truly loved doing. Like my mom.

I would always tell her, “At least you have something you love. You have ceramics. You can spend hours doing it and not feel like you need to stop.”

I didn’t have that, and I wanted to feel that so badly.

I wanted something that made me feel alive.

My mom used to tell me, “Just think, it is not forever.”

And I tried to believe that.

In fact, I would repeat it to myself constantly, just to feel a little bit of relief.
But even if it was not forever, I could feel how it was slowly dimming my light.

I was communicating products that did not really speak to me.
Not because they were not good, but because there were way too many parameters, too many rules, too many ways things “had” to be said.

And little by little, I felt like there was no space left for me to actually be creative.
It felt like something inside me was slowly turning off: my creativity, my energy, and most importantly, my essence.

Don’t get me wrong, the people were great. And honestly, that was probably the most confusing part.

That is mainly why I felt so guilty for feeling this way.

But maybe I was not supposed to grow there.

Still, I kept telling myself: “You should be thankful. People are nice. You have flexibility. You earn good money. Why are you complaining?”

I even told myself, “Stop complaining, or you will never be happy.”

I was trying so hard to trick my own mind.

And maybe you have done that too.

Maybe you have tried to convince yourself that you are okay somewhere just because it looks good, because people are nice, or because everyone keeps telling you how lucky you are to have that.

But deep down, I think we always know when something is not right.

And even though the people were kind, I felt like the place itself was killing something inside of me.

And I don’t think this only happens at work (This is my experience)

But maybe for you it has happened in a relationship, a friendship, or any place where you felt like you had to make yourself smaller to be accepted.

Sometimes it is not that people are bad.
Sometimes you are just not right together.
And sometimes, without even realizing it, that place starts crushing your flame, your creativity, your essence.

In fact, because I kept going for so long, trying to convince myself that everything was fine, I reached one of my darkest points in life.

And I truly believe it happened because I was not being myself.

Because I was trying to please everyone else, except me.

I remember when I was little, I was so creative. I was such an artist. I loved painting, ceramics, and creating things with my hands.

It made my mind feel calm. No thoughts. No noise.
Just me, focusing on what I was creating.

But by continuing to force myself to fit in, I was killing her.
I was not allowing that little girl to be herself.

That is why, slowly, as I grew up, I started losing that creative side of me. At some point, I could not even draw nicely anymore. Only stick figures.

And I kept telling myself:

Maybe, in some way, I also allowed that creativity to die.

But not anymore.

Life gives you signals. You either listen to them or you ignore them.

Last year, my body started giving me signs that something was not right.
At first, I did not fully understand them. I just knew I did not feel okay.

And then, at the beginning of this year, I felt like I had touched rock bottom.

It felt horrible. But honestly, I thank God I did.

Because maybe if I had not reached that point, I would not be here writing this today, doing something that makes me feel alive again.

Maybe I would still be living the same autopilot routine that made me feel so empty.

And that is why I want to ask you:

It is not about the place that looks good to others.
But the place where you feel alive.

The place where your ideas have space to breathe.
The place where you do not have to become smaller to be accepted.

Don’t be afraid to question where you are.

That question may be here to wake you up. It is time!!!

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Get LOUD with me in the comments.
I will reply to all of them 🫂

With love,

My Unsent Letters
AB.

• I replay conversations in my head.

• I imagine the worst possible scenarios, just so maybe, if they ever happen, they won’t hurt as much.

• I keep emotions inside because maybe I am being “too emotional”

For a long time, I didn’t know what to do with all those thoughts inside my head.

Sometimes they felt like voices tormenting me all day, some days louder than others.
They would make me believe I was responsible for fixing everything and holding everyone’s emotions.

I just needed to feel loved, because if I perceived I was not, I would feel like I was not worthy, and it would hurt too much.

Maybe that is exactly why I stopped being myself.
I was too afraid of not fitting in, of being unlovable. I started pleasing everyone but me.

And I feel so sorry for myself. For Alessandra, my inner child, who felt she had to pretend for so long to be someone else just to be loved and accepted.

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I think this is one of the hardest parts of being sensitive. You absorb more than you know how to release.

And when we carry these emotions for too long, our minds start to become very loud, and take us to places that may hurt us more than we think.

But that day, at Lake Bled in Slovenia, my mind finally went quiet.

The lake, the mountains, the flowers, the blue sky, and the peace I felt surrounding me. Everything was so beautiful that, for a moment, I stopped trying to control or understand everything.

I was just there. I was present. I was mindful.

And that was enough.

Nature allows this for me, and maybe for you too.

Nature will remember who you are, even if you have forgotten.

As highly sensitive people, we feel louder, we connect deeply.

I felt it in Lake Bled, but I have felt this kind of peace before.
I felt it in Montserrat, in Barcelona, surrounded by mountains.
I felt it in Laguna 69, in Peru, standing in front of the blue lagoon with white snow, after walking for 6 hours to get there, 4,604 meters above sea level.

And in many more places.

Nature gives me a kind of peace I can’t fully explain.

My nervous system recognizes it, and it just stops fighting.

It helps me remember that there is a beautiful world outside my tormenting thoughts, and that my thoughts are not the whole truth.

I just need nature to make that noise inside me get softer and to find my way back to myself.

Back to where my creativity is.

Because it is hard to create when you are only trying to survive your own thoughts.
It is hard to write, imagine, or express yourself when your mind is full of fear.

Maybe it is because nature remembers who we are, and it helps us remember, even when we forget.

So if your mind has been feeling too loud lately, I hope you find something that helps you come back to yourself. It doesn’t have to be far away.

It can be a walk, a tree, the sky, doing some exercise, talking to someone, or one honest conversation. This heals more than you think.

And for me right now, what is healing me the most is actually writing for you.

Learning to get LOUD without any kind of fear.

This article is written for my inner child. I want to tell Alessandra, the little girl who lived with those voices for years and didn’t know how to find peace:

You are finally finding the way out.

With love,

My Unsent Letters,
AB.

It felt like something I had to hide.

Instead of feeling lucky, I spent years feeling like something was wrong with me.

I felt weak.

Like everyone else seemed stronger than me.

Like my emotions were always bigger than everyone else’s.

When someone’s tone changed, I felt it.

When the energy in a room shifted, I felt it.

When I met someone, I could almost feel instantly the connection or something being off.

And when I saw something really sad, like a dog abandoned on the street, I could randomly start crying.

Not because I wanted attention (I actually don’t like it, as it makes me feel vulnerable)

But because I genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about how sad and unfair the situation was.

Some people just don’t understand that. They don’t understand why something that seems small or “normal” to them can completely break your heart.

I looked up to people with a “strong character” because I thought being strong meant knowing how to survive this world and to be successful at the same time.

But that idea hurt me, because I spent years trying to become someone I was not. I was trying to change the parts of me that were actually my essence: my sensitivity, my way of feeling, my true self.

I was just taught that feeling deeply was something to be ashamed of.

And I’m guessing I’m not the only one who has felt this way.

There are more of us.
People who feel everything and who notice the smallest changes.
The ones that carry things in their hearts longer than others understand.

If you are one of them, I hope this makes you feel a little less alone.

And maybe even a little bit more special.

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I owe this to my inner child. To the part of me that felt too much and thought she had to hide it.

So this is my reminder to her, and maybe to you too:
Embrace every little part of who you are.

• Your sensitivity.

• Your softness.

• Your ability to connect.

• Your way of feeling deeply.

It does not make you weak. It makes you human. It makes you authentic.

My Unsent Letters
AB.

I keep wondering how many brilliant, kind, beautiful souls the world never gets to know.

Not because they aren’t talented.

Not because they don’t have ideas.

But because they’re afraid of being judged.

For years, I helped founders and brands find their own voice.

I worked behind the scenes shaping personal brands, creating content, and helping other people communicate who they are.

Ironically, I struggled to do the same for myself.

Every time I wanted to share an idea, I would question it.

Is it good enough?

Who am I to say this?

Someone else has probably said it better.

So I stayed behind the scenes.

It felt safer.

Until I realized hiding doesn’t really protect us.

It only keeps us from becoming the person we’re capable of being.

That’s why I’m here.

Not because I’ve figured it all out.

Actually, it is quite the opposite.

I’m here because I want a place where I can think out loud without being afraid of being myself.

A place to share the stories, questions, lessons, and ideas that have shaped me, and the ones I’m still discovering.

We’ll talk about creativity.

About sensitivity.

About confidence.

About personal branding and creating work that feels like an extension of who you are.

About building something meaningful from your own voice, whether that’s a business, a creative project, or simply the courage to express what you’ve been keeping inside.

Most of all, I hope this becomes a place where you feel a little less alone.

Because if you’ve ever hidden your voice out of fear of being judged, this might be the space you needed.

Maybe it is also the space I needed.

So I’m creating it.

And before I go, I want to remind you of something I’m also learning to believe:

It is what makes you human.

It is what makes you empathetic.

It is what allows you to feel, notice, create, and connect deeply.

Please, never let anyone convince you that feeling deeply is something you need to fix.

It is a quality we need to learn to embrace.

Welcome.

I’m really glad you’re here.

My Unsent Letters
AB.

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