Old Letters

February 25, 2017

 

 

A few months ago my mom gave me a box and said it was my old letters.  I immediately decided this must be the box I had been looking for that was filled with letters to old boyfriends and memorabilia from my high school and early adult years.  I immediately felt a pang of fear.  I didn't want to look in there at my old self. There was a lot of shame, pain and embarrassment in there that I didn't want to feel again. I put it on a shelf and forgot about it. 

 

The other night I saw the box sitting there on the shelf and without thinking too long I opened the box and I pulled out one of the letters. 

 

I was astonished to find that the letter was not a letter to an old boyfriend or anything like that.    It was a letter from me to my parents written shortly after I had married, had a baby and moved to the Philippines with my 2 month old daughter.   I was 18 years old.

 

I still was apprehensive about reading it but pushed that feeling aside and read the letter.  I was surprised to find that I didn't feel the way I thought I would.   Instead of embarrassment, shame and pain I was smiling and felt warm and fuzzy.  Then I grabbed another and another and read them.  I was now inside the mind of my 18 year old self and I didn't even know her.

 

I discovered that instead of finding out I was a silly, immature and jealous drama queen, I was a young, simple, sweet and openly loving person who loved her daughter very much but was very homesick and trying to do the best I could.  I didn't realize at the time that I had a lot to be grateful for. When I read the letters I saw a pure, innocent version of myself - a version of myself that had very little of the heaviness of life that I now sometimes feel.  I saw myself before I learned how to build walls against pain and before I felt like saying f... it when things got too hard.  A version of myself that was not as guarded and careful about life.    

 

Now I am curious.  I have always journaled but never consistently.   I have a drawer full of old journals that contain a lot of my life.  I haven't looked at in years but can't bring myself to throw away.  I didn't really know or think about it before, but I have been constantly been trying to create a new version of myself because I in my mind, the old me wasn't good enough and I should feel ashamed of that person. That person had to be buried and no one could know about her.  They could only see a new and improved version.

 

After reading the letters I am now feeling brave and plan to pull out those old journals and explore myself from a new angle.  I am curious and want to understand how I created my current story. Maybe my story is not what I thought It was or can be rewritten from this perspective.

 

I still haven't found the box of letters to old boyfriends or high school memorabilia.  I may never find it but if I do I am not going to be afraid of it now. 

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