a love letter from my healed self

light a candle and listen to lost by dermot kennedy
this one is straight from the rubble of a grieving heart.

dear 2-week-in self,

you are just that. two weeks in. a little over 14 days. please be soft with yourself. i know you want to make sense of it all. i know your head is louder than your heart. there will be time to intellectually understand this — but it is not now. read that again. it is not now.

give your mind some rest, my darling. let your heart catch up. let it take up space.

i know time is slow — that days feel like weeks, and you can’t imagine how you will feel in a month. that you feel like you let him down. that you feel that way about a lot of people you both knew, and that feeling lives in your chest. that you miss the feeling of home in his arms.

but i am on the other side.

i am here. breathing. expanding. doing wild things that fulfil my heart — and time is the opposite. there is not nearly enough of it to do the many things i love, to move slowly, to explore the deep connections i’ve found and nourished. to go on the many road trips left to go on, to scream sing to the folk songs — the songs that didn’t live in his bones the way they do in yours.

you had the courage to let go. you will have the courage to start again. to fill that space again. the anxiety will be replaced with magic again.

i know you are swimming in questions — in shame, embarrassment, loneliness. i know you are wishing that night was softer on both of you. but you tried so hard. you loved so hard. you learned someone in ways that you didn’t know you could — you showed up as full as you could. you asked for what you needed.

so, my darling, feel it all. let the questions come. look at them. let them expand. look beneath them, above them, behind them. explore them. but don’t try to understand. not just yet. you will soon.

sometimes things are just beautiful. sometimes they just happen to be beautiful, and not to serve a greater meaning or purpose. a good friend told you that after 5 hours of working on a puzzle. so look back at this as a time that you felt respected and valued. as a time that you felt safe to try new things, to receive love, to feel loved. and to have fun in ways you always feared.

look back on it as beautiful.

oh, my love, soon you will feel grateful. you will see that this was out of love for yourself, out of knowing your deepest desires — your deepest need to feel safe and secure.

i am here, looking back on the time i was 23 and moved to a foreign country across the world, and fell in love for the first time. i am remembering. the stars that night, how cold he was because he wore the same shorts he wore every day despite the weather. how that first kiss was enough to make you feel like you are worth knowing. i am remembering the light moments, the moments when 3 am, the pouring rain, and an all encompassing love in that white-walled room was all you knew. when he would stop in the middle of a forest walk to kiss you in a way that made you forget all the things you were worrying about and drop you right into your heart. the moments when he would look at you longingly as if you were gold, and the moments you truly believed you were. i am remembering the stars that night. and even though the northern hemisphere and this place have different constellations, 4 am and the sky will never be the same.

so, 2 weeks-in self — when you are ready, forgive him. for he is learning, too. he is sorry, too. and he tried, too. neither of you had anything to lose by being yourselves and going all in. you both deserve to feel safe being all of you. forgive. let go. and welcome the good that is coming your way with open, full arms, and a heart as cosmic as the stars that night.

something grand, and expansive, and great is waiting for you. don’t rush. it will be ready when you are.

love, you in a years time.

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