My daughter makes me proud every single day, but right now I’m especially proud.

She’s starting her own blog.

If some of you have been here from the beginning, you remember me talking about my illness and how it’s affected her over the years. Eight years later, I’m watching her openly express her struggles with mental health and share her favorite Mac Miller songs with the world.

Watching her talk about bipolar disorder, anxiety, and self-harm isn’t easy for me. It never will be. Part of me carries guilt — knowing these are things she inherited from me — but more than anything, she is my hero.

The time she’s taken to truly learn herself… her illness, her triggers… and then choosing vulnerability anyway — opening herself up online knowing criticism, doubt, and know-it-all opinions will come — that takes courage. Real courage.

And while she may have gotten the struggles from me, she also got my ability to write.

I have tears in my eyes watching her right now. I’m so proud of her for being stronger than I ever was.

I hope she knows that one day, when she becomes a famous author, we’ll have this post to say I saw her at the beginning.

I’m adding her blog name to my bio so you can follow along with her life — her illness, her growth, and her college journey. It still blows my mind that she’s graduating high school in May.

I pray she listens to me and doesn’t let the world harden her heart the way it hardened mine at 19 — the way certain experiences permanently changed how I see life, and habits I’m still trying to break.

She is the very best parts of us, and I can’t wait to watch her conquer the world.

I know you’re reading this, monkey.

I love you, and I’m fucking proud of you.

Remember your mama when you’re famous. Don’t forget I’m always a phone call away. I can be anywhere you are in no time if you need me.

No matter how old you get, I’ll always be your biggest fan.

You will never be too old to need your mama.

I love you.