letters

Letters to the Girl With the Broken Heart

Sailboats in the distance paralleled one another on the open sea.  Green foam traced along the underside of the dock as I sat watching the sun peak in the balmy sky.   As the sun skirts the horizon I recalled a time when this calmness didn’t exist.

Many summers ago I would write letters and then never send them.  Writing letters that read like a girl who didn’t deem herself loveable.  A girl who blamed herself for the actions of adults, and fully internalized it.

No one died, but they might as well have.  The loss absolutely destroyed everything that made me, me.

I wish I had kept those letters if only to see the progress I’ve made.

I’ve been unfair to myself.

I’m not sure what it is about Los Angeles, but being here has brought up memories that I had long repressed.  I’m not depressed over it, just annoyed that the thoughts won’t go away.  This town is full of people looking for an easy lay, a quick fix to their broken dreams.  Maybe that’s why these memories haunt me.

Becuase I no longer trust people who promise easy fixes and I’m more aware of how others manipulate.  I’m grateful that I’m no longer attracting those types of people.

A few weeks ago during yoga, I was doing a pigeon pose when my head began throbbing.  Throbbing so hard that I spent the rest of class in a child’s pose, hoping that I wouldn’t throw up.  I drank all the water, but this headache had nothing to do with dehydration.

It was a release.

I think a part of me broke open and what I got was pure emotion.  Ever since then there have been small moments when I just can’t stand being around people, and it’s nothing personal.  I’m simply processing.  Giving myself permission to sit in it for a little while longer.

I love when it’s early morning and the sun hasn’t yet peaked.  No one’s around and in that moment of stillness, it’s just me and the morning air.  The quiet gets to me.  There was a time when I was so aware of everyone around me that I didn’t speak in groups.  I barely spoke to anyone at all.  But that was years ago, and things are different now.

I’m finally becoming who I want to be.  I’m still unsure of what I want to do in life, but I know that I’m happy with where I am right now.

I used to think that the loss didn’t affect me, I thought that I had moved on.  But I was lying to myself.  I was so scared of ever being hurt again that I pushed people away the moment things got difficult.

I’ve missed out on a lot because of this emotional barrier I had put up.  I was so fearful of rejection that I removed myself and ended up feeling rejected anyways.

When you become more aware of your self-sabotage it’s easier to stop yourself from going down a dark path.  It becomes easier to look at a situation and see what’s actually going on.  This makes every reaction more mature and allows you to see that things aren’t as dramatic as they seem at first glance.

People are broken and they mess up.  They forget to text you back, they cancel plans, sometimes they’ll say things out of anger.  Decisions that others make are in no way a reflection of your worth.  Their feelings and actions are not yours to carry with you.

It took me a long time to fully grasp the reality of this.

It’s taken me a long time to feel lovable again.

 

Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash

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