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PROLOGUE 
Born To Love
This book was born when I loved not carefully, not timidly,but with the full fire of my heart.
It was born in the moments I gave of myself freely,when I stood bare, open, and unguarded.
And then I loved abandonedly.
With trembling hands and a fearless soul, I gave love a place to rest in me.
And in return, I tasted its sweetness…
I have known what it means to be held, and I have known what it feels like to be left behind.
I have laughed with my whole body, and I have wept in silence when no one was watching.
But it was through loving through the letting go, the holding on,the breaking open and the rising again that I became myself.
Not the version the world expected, but the version that waited patiently for me to return.
Whole. Unapologetic. Radiant in her truth.
These letters are not just memories.
They trace the map of my becoming.
Of a woman who dared to love and survive it.
Of a woman who learned that loss is not the end,
it is often the beginning.
So, I offer these pages to you,dear reader, dear sister, dear seeker.
May they remind you that love, even when it shatters,
can shape you into something more whole.
Letter  One: The Day I Chose to Return to Myself
Dear Woman I Am,
I sit in my chair and I drink tea.
The steam curls like a prayer toward the heavens.
The cup warms my hands,
and in its quiet comfort, I feel the hush of truth returning.
There is something sacred in this ritual
this stillness this ceremony of coming home.
There was a day—quiet and unremarkable to anyone else when I looked in the mirror and didn’t fully recognize the woman staring back at me.
She wore my face. She held my memories.
She carried the weight of my sacrifices,
the ones made in silence, the ones applauded,
and the ones that nearly broke me.
But her eyes…
They weren’t seeking applause.
They weren’t chasing perfection.
They were searching for someone deeper.
For someone familiar.
For someone lost.
They were searching for herself.
For me.
That was the day I chose to return to myself.
Not the attorney.
Not the midwife.
Not the fixer, the achiever, the author, the international speaker.
Not the title. Not the role. Not the mask.
But the woman beneath all that.
The one who once loved without armor.
The one who offered her heart like an open hand
and believed that love could build a sanctuary.
You see, this book—this journey—was born when I loved.
When I loved with open palms,
and then—when I loved past the edges of my own safety.
When I gave without hesitation, when I leaned in without guarantee, when I surrendered without a backup plan.
It was born in the tenderness of vulnerability—
the kind that strips you bare and dares you to breathe anyway.
The kind that says, Feel this, even if it burns.
And it was born in the ache of loving and losing,
of holding something sacred only to watch it slip through my fingers while still whispering, Thank you for letting me feel it.
Through the heartbreak, the letting go,the unraveling and the rising, I met myself again.
Not the polished version.
Not the woman who always says the right thing.
But the woman who cries during old songs.
The one who still believes in magic.
The one who broke—and still chose to love again.
So I write this letter to mourn what was lost,
but more than that to honor what was found.
To you, the woman I am:
Your softness is a revolution.
Your vulnerability is not a weakness it is your brilliance.
Your love—yes, even when it hurt—
was the doorway through which you returned home to yourself.
So keep choosing yourself.
Keep drinking your tea.
Keep remembering who you are beneath the noise.
Keep becoming whole.
With love, always,
Lorna
Final Chapter – Becoming Woman: The Quiet Arrival
Today, I sit in my favorite chair.
The one that has held every version of me.
And in my cup is something rare—
Silver Needle tea from the foothills of Kilimanjaro.
Light as breath. Pure as dawn.
It glows like sunlight filtered through linen,
whispering stories from the mountain,
from the women who pluck leaves in morning mist,
from the hands that know gentleness as strength.
And I sip slowly. Reverently.
Because today… I am home.
Not in a place,
but in myself.
I have walked through fire.
I have stitched myself together with golden thread.
I have sat with my pain,
made room for my doubt,
and I did not rush the healing.
I made peace with the mirror.
The woman looking back at me now
is not searching—
she is resting.
She is whole.
I am no longer fragmented by old expectations,
or twisted into the shape someone else preferred.
I no longer bargain for love or shrink for belonging.
I do not hustle for worth.
I simply am.
I have learned to hold my own hand.
To speak my name with kindness.
To dance in my own skin.
To say: “This is me, and that is enough.”
The ache is gone.
The ache to be chosen,
to be validated,
to be seen because I have chosen myself.
I see me.
Clearly. Gently.
And what a beautiful sight it is.
I have reconciled with my younger self.
The girl who once doubted her softness.
Who believed she had to be sharp to survive.
I hold her close now.
I thank her for her bravery.
But I do not let her drive anymore.
I have forgiven what needed forgiving—
others, yes, but mostly myself.
I no longer carry the weight of unfinished love.
I do not resent the endings that came,
because each ending delivered me here.
And love—
yes, love will come.
Not to rescue me.
But to meet me.
To walk with me, not ahead of me.
To witness me, not fix me.
To pour itself into my already full cup.
Because I am no longer waiting to be found.
I have found myself.
And peace, oh, peace.
Peace sits beside me now,
like an old friend who never left,
only waited for me to be still enough to notice.
This tea, this chair, this breath—
it is all sacred.
It is all ceremony.
It is all the altar of becoming.
I have become woman.
Not just by age or name,
but by the sacred act of reclaiming every part of me.
This is the final chapter.
But not the end.
This is the beginning
of walking in the world as I am:
Rooted.
Radiant.
And ready.
Let love find me.
Let the winds carry blessings.
Let my name rise with the morning light.
Because I am not waiting anymore.
I am already here.
And I am whole.
I am woman.
I am home.
Love
Lorna