This morning, I went for my first run in weeks. It wasn’t a long run, or a fast run, but it felt remarkable nonetheless after weeks of Valium and medication-induced sedentary dizziness and vomiting – so good to be strong and springy and back in my body. The running deserves a post of its own, because it’s been such an important part of my life this year, but this one isn’t about the running.
When I came bouncing back through my gate, I checked the post and there was a letter there, addressed to me in my handwriting, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. I’d forgotten that I spent last year helping conduct a mentoring program with some super awesome teenagers, and on the last day we all – mentors and kids – wrote ourselves a letter to be delivered in one year’s time.
I feel a little shy sharing it here, because at the time I never shared it with anyone. But I want to, and so this is my letter:
My dear,
I want 2010 to be a better year for you, and I promise to do my best to achieve that.
I want to see food growing in your garden, friends dining at your table, and love and forgiveness in your heart.
I want – no, I need – to know that you have actively worked on your mental health and made progress in conquering your anxiety.
I need you to live a year that you will look back upon with respect and peace in the years to come.
Take care, be strong, learn (and re-learn) to ask for help from those who love you, and never, ever stop dreaming, loving, learning and creating.
All my love.
I am surprised (in all my deadly perfectionist glory!) by just how much I have lived up to hopes and expectations of Last Year’s Me; I trust she’d be proud.