This post is a letter.
It's a letter for those
of you who came home from the family
visit and drank ALL of the wine alone with the dog (or other animal of your
choice) while watching "Friends" (or other show you've seen half a
dozen times already).
It's a letter for those
of you who felt so topsy-turvy, so not-right, so out-of-your-body, so
completely out of touch when you woke up this Saturday morning that you decided
the thing to do was to rearrange the furniture in your house because none of it
was right. Nothing was right. Nothing in your house, in your skin, in your
body felt right, and so you rearranged the furniture to attempt to let it
settle down new.
I know. My living room looks great, thanks for
asking.
This post is a letter
for those of you who woke up with that killer headache -- the one you couldn't
tell if it was from the wine, or the stress, or the things you didn't say. It's a letter for those of you who are
bravely marching forward, holding all these things in your heart, written on
your skin, feeling like they are emblazoned like red letters on your
chest.
There are lots of posts
out there by people more inspirational than me, who got their shit together
BEFORE Thanksgiving, and actually preventatively thought through the fact that,
sometimes, for some of us, holidays suck.
A lot. You can go out and read
those posts, and all their lovely thoughts about them...or wait, because blink
twice and Christmas will be here, and we're all gonna be doing this all over
again.
But I have yet to find
anything written by anyone inspirational that tells me how to recover from
Thanksgiving. I mean, maybe if I had
gotten my shit together beforehand, if I had written that inspirational post ahead
of time about how I was not going to lose my mind this year, and if I had
implemented all the positive coping skills one should implement when faced with
holiday stress....maybe I wouldn't still
be in holiday hangover mode.
But here I am. It's Sunday afternoon, and I don't know what
to say to me anymore. I get so
frustrated when people say things like "well what would you say to one of
your patients?" I mean,
seriously. First, if it was that simple,
I probably would have said it to me already.
Second, most of my patients are small humans with developmental
disabilities, so mostly I say things like "pee goes in the potty" and
"hands are not for hitting" and "is talking about door hinges
during math class an expected behavior or an unexpected behavior?"
Anyway.
This post is a letter.
Are you ready?
*********
Dear Precious One,
As the heaviness of
these days weighs on you, you can know these things:
1). Whatever your
Thanksgiving was and was not, it is over now.
Whatever your choices were on Thanksgiving day, and the day after...they,
too, are over now. You did the very best you could, friend. Believe that.
2). Giving thanks is
not a one shot deal. Just because your
gratitude is elusive on this day -- the day when the entire nation chooses to
give thanks -- it does not negate the other days you choose to give
thanks. It does not erase the ways you
marveled at the sun on those early mornings in August, or the times you were moved
to tears by beauty and amazement in April, or the ways you let your heart
constantly fill and overflow throughout the year. You are
not wrong, love. There is no way you
could be.
3). It is okay to
feel confused and disoriented, and to feel you are struggling to know which way
is up. Know that you only need to keep
swimming, and you will orient to the light -- because this is who you are. This is what you do. Like a compass pointing to true north, you
will flounder and spin and bounce, and you will end up where you need to
be.
4). You are not
alone. This is, perhaps, most
important. You are not ever alone.
And here is where the
grace comes in: in spite of the ways it seems your heart cannot even fathom it,
you are loved, and you are loved, and
you are loved, in spite of and because of everything.
Here is where the grace
comes in: you are the one in your
body, and you are the one who chooses
what comes next. Even if you have fucked
it up a million times before. Even if
you think you don't deserve that grace -- there is no other way forward but for
you to make the next move, and you always
move forward.
And here is where the
grace comes in: you are worthy, and whole, and loved, and there are people who
love you and are willing and able to show you this love whether or not you can
see it or accept it.
Dear precious one, you
are not alone. You are loved. You are not wrong, and you always move
forward. There is grace, and it is here
for you.
You are worthy and
loved.
Love,
Me.
Love it
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