a month in the making
well really a lifetime
For Christmas, I wrote everyone I love a handwritten letter with of course, a referenced song. The letters focused on our relationship to one another. It was taxing but beautiful work. The love I experienced as I wrote led to real life sobbing. An overwhelming outpour of all the emotions I keep inside (and plus I’m only human - my writing would bring tears to anyone, me included).
There is one person left. Myself. I’ve started and restarted and replayed and searched but the words don’t arrive.
I’m left with these two quotes circling around my brain:
“you’ll never get back to who you used to be because that version of yourself no longer exists. Let her go.”
and
“the price of solitude is learning who you are.”
It’s somewhere in there. Between the lines of those quotes are the words I wish I could tell myself. We made it through and I’m grateful? I’m most grateful for the person I am now but I wouldn’t be this person without those experiences and I could never have gratitude for what happened. Can I? It certainly isn’t forgiveness in my heart - anger still lives there but it fueled me forward. Well fueled me downward then up and now forward.
I’m okay to let her go. I’m happy to let her go. She was so strong and afraid but in letting her go, am I saying I don’t need you anymore? I still need you. You made me great. You got us here.
We were alone. And every moment of that hurt. No one understood the depth of the pain. It felt like people didn’t remember or realize how I wanted to burn my skin off from unwanted touch. That the feeling remained even as the months passed. How our heart still stops when we think he’s there walking into our safe space of HomeGoods. How the people that weren’t supposed to leave still left.
How can I ever let that version of us go? You live in me.
“never know you’re capable if you do not evolve”
It took a lot for me to write about this. I had no idea where to start. Everything feels so fake when we know our own brain…or at least think we do. I’m now realizing it’s because everyone else got a love letter. I wanted to give you that. I wanted to give us the love we know we are worthy of and deserve.
Christmas 2024
Christina,
I love you so much. Not solely because you are the funniest person to grace this earth but because you’ve leaned into growth, love, and kindness this year. Yes, the anger has been difficult but how fun has it been to learn and navigate a new emotion?! Like actually a little bit fun (and yeah, a lot terrible).
Your superiority complex since deleting social media is unmatched and honestly queen, please keep that energy. The energy of being off social media because your brain cannot handle it. And the energy of knowing you are that Black Woman. We walk into rooms, sit on the literal actual floor, and conduct therapy. With confidence. Thank you for recognizing your worth does not come from how you dress for those big professional moments but with how your beautiful, big mind works. But also big claps to how we found our aesthetic especially within our make up game.
I know it was tough breaking the cycle but it’s amazing how proud I am of you. It sucked being in the tornado of emotionally immature men but here we are, not calling, not texting, not acknowledging their bullshit. Here’s a snippet of what you wrote in literally November:
I feel defective. Like there must be something wrong with me for me to keep ending up in this cycle.
I don’t want to talk about it either. I’m so done talking about it and nothing changes.
I suppose I have to make the change but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Break up with D? Okay. And then what? It’s just the same thing with someone else.
I keep thinking about that doctor in college who told me to “just get a boyfriend.”
I’m just tired. I’m tired of not being wanted. Of being treated like I’m not important. I’m so so tired. I think that’s what I was trying to say on the phone to D yesterday when I was crying and saying I’m tired. I’m just tired of this cycle.
Then it’s just so lonely and isolating because who wants to hear me talk about this anymore? I don’t even want to speak or think about it. So I don’t talk to anyone about how hurt and sad I am. Because why if I’m just going to stay in this fucking cycle?
And of course, I know the question is why stay in this cycle? Maybe its almost like a promise of finally getting the love I deserve combined with the absolute exhaustion of trying to go on dates and talk to guys that immediately just want to have sex.
So I stay because as much as it causes me to regress into self harming ways, it seems easier to manage. More familiar.
And now we are here. We aren’t defective but we were part of the problem. I’m proud of you for recognizing that and wanting more for yourself. Even if that more is being alone.
Our alone is the crying corner of our apartment. Our alone is playing games on our iPad while watching Project Runway feeling that there is no way life could be happier. Our alone is the books hidden in the closet that we read in our strongest & toughest moments. Our alone is headphones on, staring at the ceiling, listening to the aloneness of strangers articulated through music. Our alone is holy.
We are not letting Christina go. We are holding her, thanking her, feeding her, allowing her rest. We’ll never be her again but we needed her.
Thank you for the tears. Thank you for the happiness. Thank you for trusting that you can be better. I wouldn’t be here without you.
Always remember. This is that forever type of love,
Christina
Song: Waze by Tierra Whack
Very beautiful my friend. Love you dearly but not as much as you love yourself 💚