Write A Love Letter To Yourself
No, really. Do it.
In the past, upon seeing an article on this topic, I would roll my eyes and scroll past with a sneer. I don’t do hippie nonsense. I certainly didn’t have any love for myself. It would seem like a pointless exercise.
This year, I’ve shifted my thoughts and have new perspectives on myself and life. I’m much more willing to engage in self-growth activities because…why not? If they’re beneficial, great. If not, then I can laugh at the hokey self-help nonsense. There’s no harm in trying. Plus, it makes great fodder for a Medium article…like the one you’re reading.
One piece of advice I stumbled across was how we are so good at writing love letters to others, but why not ourselves? A year ago, I could have written a college thesis on my faults (I still can) and why I hate myself.
This is the first time I feel good enough to give it a shot. Maybe I’ll start a cozy fire and play some smooth jazz while writing this.
Dear You, (or I guess, Me),
High-five for surviving 2020! Look at you, being all Pandemic Barbie with your unplucked eyebrows and lack of pedicure. That takes a lot of confidence to show up on Zoom with that face.
This year you’ve made some baller changes. You of 2019 would never believe that you’d be like this today. Surprisingly, the positive changes came as a result of negative occurrences. You just needed your life to get shittier to improve yourself. You hit rock bottom and made sure you didn’t build a home there.
You have always been able to make a major change when needed, as long as you really put your mind to it. Need to get in super good shape for an event? Best believe you’ll subsist on lettuce and squats. Need to memorize something quickly? Yup, you’ve got that down to a science (it helps to have a religious father who made you memorize Arabic passages from the Quran at a young age).
Even this week, when you finally put your mind to it, you stopped being a pussy about the affair guy. Sure, you had a crazy dream and a phone call that had you spiraling last week. But with one Medium post and a soap opera-esque slap to the face, you’re done being an emotional little bitch. Last night you had another very, very realistic dream about him that in the past would have left you crying all day. Instead, you woke up, shrugged your shoulders, and moved on sans melodramatic meltdown. You even kept your shit together after he messaged you this week. When your head is in the game, you don’t fuck around.
Growing up as the nerdy friend to the hot girls like a John Hughes movie left you with a pretty solid personality mixed with sarcasm, wit, and skepticism. People often call you “spunky”, “sassy”, “a pistol”, or other variation that I’m going to assume is a positive trait. Your skepticism keeps you out of MLM pyramid schemes and faux Facebook posts; you’ve got Snopes and you know how to use it (as well as Google, like every other effing human out there who doesn’t take the time to research). This week, a guy called you “rare” and “special”. You didn’t brush him off and discredit him. You took the compliments because you knew he was right.
Looking back at the past 20 years, you’ve learned from your mistakes. You’re a great friend now because you remember the times you weren’t. Having a baby with a chromosome disorder changed you from a selfish child to an empathetic adult. You’re wiser with finances (although you’ve always been good with them). You almost hit a cyclist once over 20 years ago; you’re still extra cautious when making right turns because that memory haunts you.
You also know your areas of weakness and work on improving them. One example is that courtesy of your mother’s bad habit, you grew up turning jealousy into negative talk of others (even if just in your mind). It took tremendous self-growth to realize that you can feel envious of someone else while still being happy and genuinely congratulating them. Someone else’s achievements do not reflect your failures.
People tell you that you have very pretty eyes. Except for the one asshole in highschool who once said your eyes weren’t dark enough. Went to look him up on Facebook and damn, that guy is still hot. Well…my eyes are prettier than his wife’s suck so on that, dickhead. You didn’t feel this way growing up but you finally realize that being a mix of ethnicities has made you more, not less, attractive.
It took to this year but you finally learned healthy boundaries, something once foreign and very therapy-ish. One guy you had chatted with for years wouldn’t stop pushing for sex. Normally you’d just ignore him but for the first time, after politely declining him, you finally told him aggressively to stop. Which he did until he started back up today. Instead of ignoring him, you flat out told him to fuck off for being obnoxious and blocked him. Guys may get a few polite declines but after that, no more fake smiles. They get the treatment they deserve.
Avoiding conflict is something you’re working hard to resolve. You broke it off with a sweet guy this week because you didn’t see it going anywhere. In the past, you would have dragged it out until it died a slow death. While it was hard, you know you’d want someone to be mature and tell you if he didn’t have the right feelings. It wasn’t pleasant by any stretch, but he appreciated your candor (his words). In addition to getting the balls to speak up to the soon-to-be ex-husband, facing your fears of conflict is something you’ve made great strides in this year.
You don’t eff around when it comes to cookie decorating.
For your age (I cringe writing that), you look pretty good. Your younger friends look older than you. You still fit into the tightest pair of jeans you bought in highschool. While you realize that you need to reel in the cosmetic procedures in 2021, the efforts you’ve put into anti-aging have paid off. Not a single makeup artist hasn’t commented on the texture and quality of your skin.
You can befriend anyone and blend in anywhere. Whether it’s chilling with a homeless guy or attending an upscale event, you can morph like a motherfucker. You’ve never needed a wingman to attend any event or join any new club.
This ability to make friends anywhere has also built a solid network. People know to come to you to connect with others. Last week you connected someone with one lawyer friend, another friend who used a child advocate, and a co-worker with a special needs child. It takes a village to raise a child; you’ve built a universe to raise yourself.
It’s ironic that you don’t get paid for smoke and mirrors, because you’re damn good at that in the workplace. Not that you should feel pride in that, but your life since having your son has revolved around his appointments, insurance paperwork, therapy sessions, and more. Your work output is minimal compared to pre-children. Yet, you’ve managed to pull the rabbit out of the hat every single time at work. You’ve built a solid reputation in a company of almost 5,000 employees where strangers hit you up to help them with a problem specific to their team. For your current job, you didn’t even interview; they reached out to you and told you they wanted you without even meeting you because your reputation is solid.
Speaking of work, you interview flawlessly. Or at least, you did prior to the current job. You rarely interview anymore, compared to before when you did it for fun to stay on your interview A-game.
When you need to make extra cash, you know how to hustle. When your husband was laid off, not once did you dip into savings because you became an eBay whore. This year you needed more funds for your beauty procedures so you started writing on Medium, selling clothes on Thredup, and creating digital downloads for Etsy. You’re a part of a Facebook group for a funny TV show; today you recognized your own digital file used by someone else on a mug they received for Christmas.
You aim to push yourself out of your comfort zone. Huge rollercoasters terrify you but you insist on riding them because you don’t want to be a little old lady scared of life. You even gulped and jumped right into a naked photoshoot despite your extreme fear leading up to that moment.
Despite so much Mommy Guilt, you’ve managed to break the cycle from your childhood. You don’t hit your kids. You don’t berate them for existing. You remind them constantly they are loved (they’re sick of hearing it but suck it up little ones). You make sure they know their bodies are theirs to own and they decide their boundaries. It’s awkward, but since they were little you’ve normalized gay relationships and trans people. Despite society making it very difficult, you’re holding strong on removing gender norms like “pink is for girls”, “nail polish is for girls”, and that it’s okay for boys’ Paw Patrol shirts to not include Skye or Everest (while the girls’ shirts have all the characters).
Your kids know that it’s effed up that not only did the prince not know Cinderella’s name, that fucker didn’t even take the time to find her himself. With pride, your kids know that she could have built a Martha Stewart-esque empire and married a guy who at least could recognize her from the neck up. When your daughter figured out how to make her toys and dresses out of scraps around the house, you didn’t tell her she could be a fashion designer; she knows that being good at building solutions means engineering is her destiny. It’s hard to break the cycle from a crappy childhood, but you’re doing it.
Everyone who has read your writing on any platform compliments you on your rawness and self-awareness. While you don’t know how to write any other way, having self-awareness has always been a big part of your ability to grow as a human. Even when you’ve hated yourself, you’ve known exactly why you hate yourself and your flaws. It’s a lot easier to make changes when you know your weaknesses and now, finally, recognizing your strengths.
Your hands were once pretty enough for hand modeling.
You are not the girl lamenting why she can’t get a guy to date her. The problem isn’t guys falling for you; it’s you falling for them. Probably because you don’t come across as the kind of girl who wants a wedding ring or maybe because you maintain your outside projects and friends, guys pursue you more than you pursue them. It may stem from growing up thinking that you’d eventually have an arranged marriage, but you are not needy.
Not sure how to end a love letter to yourself. How about:
While sometimes you’re a pain in the ass, you’re also pretty amazing and unique. I promise that I’ll always be there when you wake up and be there when you fall asleep.
Yours truly,
Me
