You could call this a time-travel story disguised as a healing journey.

It started around 2016 when I received one of those unmistakable downloads from my guides: “Write a book.” Simple enough, except it wasn’t.

I started researching and writing about spiritual concepts, healing, and all the ways we try to find ourselves again after we’ve fallen apart. But the words felt heavy, like I was trying too hard to teach instead of tell the truth.

You see, I grew up in a very Christian, very small-town farming community. A good childhood in many ways, but not exactly the place where people talked about energy healing, shadow work, or conversations with your higher self over tea.

Then came university, and a short, intense storm of trauma that changed everything. I spent the next two decades slowly learning how to come back home to my body, my emotions, my soul. I tried everything: meditation, tapping, dreamwork, journaling, and long walks with my inner critic. Healing, piece by piece.

And then one day during the writing process someone said something that cracked everything open:

“Stop writing this for other people. Write it for yourself.”

That hit like lightning.

Because suddenly I realized I wasn’t meant to write a book about healing. I was meant to write a love letter to the girl I once was.

So I started again, this time as a conversation between my present self and my past self. The girl with the bookbag walking to journalism class, still bright-eyed, not yet knowing what’s coming.

I wrote to her about what she’d go through. What she’d learn. How she’d survive it. How she’d someday teach others to do the same.
It stopped being a writing project and became something else entirely, a dialogue across time.

And here’s the wild part.

Months after the book was published, I found an old poem I’d written in university, long before the trauma. In it, I described walking to class and seeing a future version of myself, a woman with fiery eyes looking right at me.
I’d written, “I wonder what she thinks of me, what she knows that I don’t yet.”

I had absolutely no memory of that poem. None.
But there it was, a message across time. She had seen me, and all those years later, I had written back.

It was the most beautiful confirmation that healing isn’t just forward-moving. It’s circular.
When we heal, we send that healing back through time, through all the versions of ourselves who needed it most.

The Takeaway

If you’re deep in your own healing journey right now, remember this:
You are not just healing yourself, you’re rewriting your entire soul timeline.
Every time you forgive, love, or choose differently, that light ripples backward and forward through every version of you.

Write the book. Paint the picture. Speak the truth.
Even if you think it’s for others, it’s almost always for you.

And somewhere, some younger version of you will sigh in relief and whisper,

“Thank you. I felt that.”

With love,
Melanie

Soul Alignment & Manifestation Mentor | Chief Time-Traveler of the Healing Department | Keeper of Letters to My Past Self