Letters to Viv: This Was Never Just Mine

A Christmas thank-you for reading, responding, and walking this year with me.

Letters to Viv
Open, soul-packed letters to the kind of human I write for: the curious, creative, exhausted by the hustle, and craving something more. I’m writing to you (and me).

---

Dear Friend,

It’s Christmas morning.

That particular hum in the air. Good food on the horizon. Gifts waiting to be opened. And I’ve carved out a quiet moment to myself, sitting here, reflecting on what this past year has held.

My first Christmas in a very different life.

I wanted to come here today and say thank you. Properly, without dressing it up.

Thank you for the messages that landed in my inbox when I didn’t know how to stand upright yet. For telling me a line made you laugh out loud, or cry in the car, or sit still for a minute longer than you planned. For sharing my own words back to me, reflected through your lives, your experiences, your moments. That has been unexpectedly profound. For saying, “This sounds like my life,” and meaning it.

There were days I wrote these pieces with my shoulders up around my ears. Days I hit publish and immediately thought, Jesus Mary and Joseph, that was a bit close to the bone. And then one of you would write back. A sentence. Sometimes only three words. Enough to remind me I wasn’t shouting into the void. I was talking to real humans, living real lives, doing their best.

When I started this Substack in May, it was selfish in the best way. A place to put the ache. A place to empty the pockets. I needed somewhere to tell the truth without being tidy about it. Holding things in, I’ve learned, only makes them louder.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being only mine.

It became a conversation. Emails. DMs. Comments that felt like someone pulling up a chair beside me and saying, "Same here”. And that changed everything. I started to hear my own voice more clearly, not the polished voice, but my authentic voice. The voice that shows up barefoot, matcha in hand, telling the truth as it is that day.

This year cracked me open creatively in ways I couldn’t have planned if I tried. I won a travel writing scholarship. My first travel article was published. More pitches are in motion. A fantasy book is still asking for patience. A film script is taking shape. Words finding their way into places I once told myself were closed to me. I’m following my curiosity and turning left when I used to play it safe, seeing what happens.

I’m also learning who I am now. Not who I was before everything shifted. Not who I thought I should be. This version. Mid-rebuild. Mid-question and mid-wild ride.

And I know this now, honestly. I’m not writing at you. I’m writing WITH you.

So thank you for being here. For reading and replying. For letting my words sit beside your own thoughts and do a bit of work. If you ever feel like sharing how something landed, how it moved you, or what it stirred, know that I read it all with genuine care. It matters more than you know.

I don’t know exactly what shape this Substack will take next year. I’m not putting it in a box. I’m letting it breathe. What I do know is this. I’m starting to glow again. I’m writing. I’m telling the truth as I find it. And I’m deeply grateful you’re walking this stretch of the road with me.

I hope today is gentle on you, and there’s warmth somewhere close by.
I hope the new year brings you closer to yourself, in whatever way that needs to look.

Happy holidays with all my love, and a very full heart,
Tanya

XO

---