What Others Are Saying—and the Gratitude I Feel
My heart jumped... This wasn’t just me tossing words into the void anymore. People-- real, breathing, messy, beautiful people—were holding on to these messages. Clinging to them.
I’ll never forget the moment it hit me.
Something bigger was happening with these texts.
It was early morning. The air carried that crisp, faint chill that only sneaks in at dawn. Coffee brewed in the background, its scent cutting through the stillness.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen table, a sound that used to echo loneliness but had somehow shifted into something... softer. Hopeful. I reached for it, still half-asleep, yawning as I scrolled through the messages that had come in overnight.
That’s when I saw it:
“Thank you for your texts. While they may apply to so many people who are hurting, they are far more than anything as generic as a meme or a horoscope or the like. They hit right in the gut and the heart because—honestly, it’s hard to trust anyone you find on social media—everything you say feels like it’s genuine.”
My heart jumped, like someone had flipped on a light in a pitch-black room. This wasn’t just me tossing words into the void anymore. People—real, breathing, messy, beautiful people—were holding on to these messages. Clinging to them.
The lonely nights in my car, the heartbreak that once crushed me, suddenly felt... lighter. Less isolating. I tilted my head back, whispered a quiet “thank you” to the universe, and folded myself into my chair. Letting the gratitude settle in.
Then, a few days later, another note arrived. Lunchtime. My phone chimed just as I was picking at a sandwich. This time, the message said:
“You enlighten my soul every day just by being you. Your journey really hits a special place within me! You’ve made me realize I can do this. It won’t be easy, but I can do it. Thank you for everything you do, Ryan. I really do appreciate you.”
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, heat blooming in my chest. I shut them for a moment and let my mind drift back to those Hamilton nights. The wind was relentless then, rattling the car doors, matching the chaos inside me. I never imagined that same pain, the kind that felt unbearable, could one day inspire someone else to hold on.
I rubbed at the tears before they spilled.
This isn’t just about sending a few texts here and there.
It’s bigger than that. It’s an entire community.
Every day, new messages find their way to me. Some people sign up after hearing about the texts from a friend. Others stumble across my story online and decide to take a chance. The responses are as varied as the people sending them.
Some are quick, a simple “thank you” or an emoji that somehow says everything. Others feel like letters ripped straight from the soul, overflowing with heartbreak, fear, or long-buried dreams they’ve never dared to share.
And every time I read one, I’m reminded of something I keep relearning: we’re all far more connected than we realize.
I remember one subscriber who wrote:
“Yep. Opened a whole ass business with that hope. I’m a hairdresser, and the amount of clients I’ve helped get started in healing is just the best thing.”
I almost laughed when I read it, the good kind of laugh, the kind that warms you from the inside out. A daily text inspired someone to start a business? Wild. And yet, there it was: undeniable proof that one spark of hope can set an entire future on fire.
And the stories didn’t stop there.
Someone wrote about piecing their life back together after a breakup. Another found the courage to leave a toxic situation. One message hit especially hard:
“I lost someone recently, and your texts feel like hearing from an old friend every morning.”
That took me back. Back to that dark car, the silence of my phone, and the hollow ache of wishing, praying, someone would just reach out. Now, I’m the one reaching out. Life’s funny like that.
Here’s the thing though, as much as people say these texts help them, I feel just as grateful. Maybe even more. When someone messages me with:
“Thank you for your dedication to these messages. I’ve been going through a really hard time lately & it seems they always come when I really need some kind words. You’re an absolute angel.”
Sometimes, I stop and sit with it. The weight of those words. An angel? It’s surreal, baffling even, because I’m just a person who once felt alone and decided to fling a little hope out into the void.
That’s the real magic of this community: it’s not about me being anyone’s savior.
It’s about all of us showing up, raw and human, on the same ground.
Over time, these messages have built something unexpected, a community of lives. There’s the single mom juggling two jobs who told me she reads a daily text between shifts to keep herself going. The college student battling self-doubt who turned one of my quotes into her phone wallpaper, a quiet push to power through finals. And the retiree who forwarded a text to his grandchildren because he wanted them to feel that same flicker of positivity he felt.
Every story feels like a gift. A piece of something bigger.
Heartbreak. Victory. Doubt. Laughter. Tears.
All tangled together, forming a reminder of why we’re here…
To lift each other up when life feels heavy.
Sometimes, I step back and ask, How did we even get here? Hundreds of daily texts sent far and wide, all starting from one lonely night in my car.
And the answer is always the same: people resonated with honesty.
I didn’t dress it up or sugarcoat it. I showed up as myself, cracks and all. Just raw truths born from heartbreak, resilience, and the stubborn refusal to give up.
And in that honesty, others saw themselves.
They realized they weren’t alone. And they reached back.
The gratitude I feel today is hard to put into words. I’m thankful for every subscriber. Every message. Every chance to share a spark of hope. I’m even grateful for the moments I doubted myself—because without those cracks, I might never have started sending these texts.
Most of all, I’m grateful for us.
This scattered band of humans, spread across cities, states, countries, all connected by a fragile, unbreakable thread of hope.
If you’re reading this, know this: your voice matters.
Whether you reply to a text, share your story, or simply take a quiet moment to read, you’re part of something bigger. If you want to join or invite someone in, subscribing is simple, just enter your email below. You’ll even learn how to text me if you’re in the U.S. or Canada.
Because these texts aren’t just mine. They’re ours.
And for that, I couldn’t be more thankful.
—Ryan