Dear Friend from the Before Times

An Open Letter to a Woman Who Doesn’t Know She Changed My Life

Dear Jen,

We haven’t talked in a few years, but I bet I’ve crossed your mind. It’s not that we were ever close, but for a few years, we had an odd & slightly twisted bond. We never met in person, but circled one another on social media — game, as they say, recognized game.

We were both smart & mouthy, both drank too much and tended to get into verbal brawls with misogynists, but we had good hearts and agile minds. I think that’s what we saw in each other. That and the bawdy humor, of course.

You were in a bad spot in your marriage. I was in a bad spot in my life. We were each deep in our diseases.

You started to get well. I didn’t. It happens. There was still social media. We could still “like” one another’s lives.

I was stuck in a nightmare in 2019 when I posted on Facebook that I had absolutely no hope anymore. And it was true…but what did I think posting that would solve? I look back now with such compassion at the woman I was.

Do you remember that, Jen? You had the audacity to private message me. You asked me if I would mind if you told me something that you’d observed about me, and I told you that I wished you would, fearing as I did what you’d say.

Though I don’t remember your exact words, the gist of it was this:

“I’ve noticed that you attach your happiness to things outside yourself. In the time I’ve known you, I’ve seen you pin all your hopes for happiness on other people, on jobs, on pets, on projects…and I’ve seen you get devastated over and over again. Maybe that’s why you don’t feel any hope.”

Damn, Jen. Do you remember that?

I was shocked. I was stung. I was ashamed.

But I was grateful.

I saw immediately the truth in your words. Can you believe I’d never thought of it that way? I mean, it’s true, I deal with clinical depression, and I know you do too, but beyond that, my mindset wasn’t one that would have ever allowed me to be happy. And the wildest thing is that I would’ve been able to see that in other people, but I didn’t see it in myself!

Nobody else had the guts to tell me. Maybe nobody else cared enough? I don’t know.

I’m not sure what I said in response. I hope it wasn’t rude, but I can’t promise it wasn’t. If it was, I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, though I’m not sure we’ll ever talk again.

I do remember sitting in my living room after I read your words, feeling them reverberate, feeling as if the air that surrounded me was shimmering with their weight.

Later that day I removed my post about hopelessness. Soon I stopped posting on Facebook and eventually deleted that account. I don’t think we ever talked again.

I hit the proverbial bottom not long after that, but my rise, Jen? My rise has been beautiful.

So, Jen, I want to thank you for opening my mind to a truth I didn’t (want to) see. I don’t know if I’d have found my way to the glorious path I’m walking now had it not been for your audacity — the audacity of hope, I guess you could say.

I’ll be forever grateful. You did a good thing.

Love,

Leah

Key Message: Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to be the one who tells them an ugly truth they need to hear.