Reaching December always stirs up a lot of thoughts for me. As I write this, I’m imagining myself sitting under the moonlight with the year’s lessons rolling past me like movie credits. One thing that keeps coming up is what I want to move on from.
I want to move on from the version of me that holds too tightly to experiences that hurt. I’m ready to let them go now. I want to learn what I need to learn — and then let go just as gracefully.
What’s something you want to move on from or let go of?
Write a free verse reflection poem about a core memory.
A “core memory” (a phrase popularized in part by the 2015 movie Inside Out) is a significant moment or experience that stays with you and shapes you in some way. Core memories often connect to strong emotions — joy, fear, love, embarrassment, pride, belonging — and become experiences you can recall clearly even years later. They might be impactful conversations, milestones, turning points, once-in-a-lifetime adventures, difficult truths, important relationships, “firsts,” flashes of clarity, or life lessons.
Here is my poem:
The Tears that Shaped Me
The hallway glowed a bright yellow. It was dark outside, and I carried a faint excitement that maybe it would be a good night for me.
My long dress — my favorite color — that exact shade of sky blue you see at noon on a cloudless June day with a soft, warm breeze.
Only then did I realize I had no idea how to move in this space, how to belong here.
I walked into the lunchroom, strange and unfamiliar in its new arrangement. I missed my mom the moment she slipped away, leaving as quickly as she arrived.
Two hours, then three. I watched, a puzzle piece that didn’t fit, a quiet spectator taking notes, seeing everything through a microscope.
I wasn’t “picked” that night. Invisible.
A dance — a tiny stamp of approval — was nowhere for me. This chapter of my life ended right then, ushering in a transition I didn’t ask for.
Was I even there? Did it even happen?
Tears soaked the dress until it became its own rainy day. My chest tightened. Regret and sadness painted my heart in black, burgundy, and navy blue. The sunny June afternoon turned into a December midnight storm — cold and unwelcoming.
The unchosen. A title I still carry, a backpack glued to my shoulders.
Share your poem below. 📜
You can also find this post in the Mighty Poets group on The Mighty here.
This year has felt like the longest yet shortest one ever. There have been so many ups, downs, uncertainties, moments of clarity, and uncomfortable changes, but also steady progress nonetheless.
When the year began, I didn’t know what to expect, and honestly, my hopes were few. But as 2025 comes to a close, I’m ending it with hopes for more confidence and compassion toward myself. I want to create more space for love and connection. I want to be more patient and continue to redefine what success and growth mean to me.
I hope to stay grounded and present, more aware of what’s happening around me. I want to embrace empathy, giving others space to use their voices too. And I want to experience more peace because I deserve it.
What hopes do you have as the year closes? What goals do you want to reach, experiences do you want to have, or things will you make time for?
You can also find this post on The Pencil Case on The Mighty here.
For a long time, I wondered why I compared myself to others so often— both consciously and unconsciously— questioning whether I was falling behind, and if I would ever catch up.
I would look around and find myself alone— the only one, a spectator watching as I could no longer see the silhouette of those who seemed so far ahead of me. I’m at the bottom of the hill.
I now realize and acknowledge: this is what grief feels like for me. Something I’ve been carrying for a long, long time— a weighted blanket that’s become part of my body. No one sees it, but I feel it.
Today, I allow myself to feel sad. It’s OK to feel sad today. I give myself grace. I don’t push my feelings aside, or try to force positivity. I feel my emotions— and let them pass through. They deserve space, too.
Write a message to your teenage self about a lesson or truth you’ve learned that you didn’t know back then.
Something I find helpful for understanding the shame and grief I carry is writing messages, notes, and letters to my younger self — whether that’s my inner child or my inner teen. These are parts of me that endured so much and didn’t know how to cope with those intense experiences at the time.
Lately, I’ve been connecting with my inner teenager and allowing her to finally feel everything she wasn’t allowed to back then. I’ve noticed how angry, crushed, and betrayed she still feels from all the things she wished she could experience but couldn’t, and how much she wasn’t able to process or release because she didn’t understand what was happening.
Here is my message to her today:
Dear teen Nina,
It’s OK to feel every emotion coming up right now — anger, resentment, shame, frustration, betrayal. I know those feelings are scary for you. You don’t have to perform anymore or try to be perfect for everyone around you. It’s OK to make mistakes; that doesn’t make you a bad person. You deserve to be loved and accepted every day without having to do anything to earn it. You can move slowly and take your time — no one is pressuring you anymore. You are free to be your wonderful and beautiful self.
Oh, and one more thing: other people’s suffering or struggles are not your fault. You are not responsible for their emotions or reactions.
I love you, and I’m here whenever you need me.
— Adult Nina (sparklywartanks)
Also find this prompt in the No Shame group on The Mighty here.
It’s the beginning of a new week, sparkly friends—a great time to think about how we can sprinkle a little creativity into our days.
Sometimes it’s hard to feel creative when energy is low and the week ahead looks busy. Still, I’m hoping to spend some time writing in my new journal and updating my calendar with stickers and important dates for next month. 🤔✍️
What about you—what does creativity look like for you this week? 🖌️🖋️✏️
Also find this prompt in The Pencil Case on The Mighty here.
Writing letters has always been a powerful tool for me to process and release stress, limiting beliefs, and painful memories. It helps me learn how to love and care for myself more deeply. 2024 has been a big year for me, and today I want to bid it farewell.
Dear 2024,
I want to say goodbye. You’ve taught me so much in just 12 months, and I’m grateful for all the tough lessons I’ve learned. I’ve experienced painful moments and beautiful ones, had “aha” moments, and encountered situations I still don’t fully understand.
I choose to release the stress and anxiety I’ve been carrying, especially from these past three months. I deserve peace of mind, even if only for a second or two. As I close this chapter, I do so knowing I gave my best. I’m proud of myself for making it to this point, and I choose to give myself grace today.
Thank you and farewell, Nina
If you feel inspired and up to it, you’re welcome to write your own farewell letter—whether in your own journal or in the comments below. 💌
You can also find this post in The Pencil Case on The Mighty here.
Ah, a tiny shark! What’s one act of kindness you can show yourself today?
I received this tiny shark as a gift, and the first thing I thought when my brother gave it to me was, “I have to show my Mighty/Sparkly fam!” It’s so small, adorable, and also encouraging. 😩
In the spirit of my tiny shark friend, let’s share one act of kindness we can show ourselves today.
I’ll go first! One act of kindness I can show myself today is spending some time writing on my blog (me writing this on my blog right now haha) after I finish my work and sharing other thoughtful gifts I’ve received that made me smile.
Also find this prompt in The Pencil Case on The Mighty here.
It’s been a long 12 months, but one thing that brought me immense joy this year was the hour and a half I spent in my Expressive Arts groups on those special Saturdays. Here are the affirmations we closed with and carried with us throughout the year. I’m so proud of everyone who joined me. Thank you. 🌟😌
🎭 12/11/24: Who knew that scribbles on a page can tell such a specific story. It’s safe to take off the mask. I’m allowed to share the feelings that are spilling from my subconscious.
SparklyWarTanks 