it will come { a letter to my self }

  I sometimes encounter my past selves in the people around me or in people I observe as we cross paths and I’m grateful for the reminder.  The ones that stand out are usually echoes of challenging times and I’m struck by the distance between then and now.  It feels like yesterday and yet here I am in this good place now.  Gratitude floods me.  Compassion… or may be empathy?  Perhaps simply Love flows out.  To envelope her.  And in doing so, my past self. In love.  Cushioning, soothing, calming, healing.  ‘You’re not alone and everything will be ok’ I want Love to whisper in her ear.

This wasn’t what I sat down to write but it wants to come out.  A letter to my self.  A letter to the echo.  A letter to you if you sit in this particular space right now (but won’t always).
Dear Self, 

You won’t always feel like this.  I promise you.  You won’t always feel this empty and wounded and forgotten.  The heaviness that stops your shoulders and your chin rising will lift.  It will.  I promise you, it will.

Those things that your heart longs for – love, security, a home, a hand in yours, an easy path, a light on – they will come.  It won’t always feel such a struggle.

Don’t give up.

Nothing and nobody is against you. They’re not. If it seems like they are, they’re not really. That’s their stuff, not yours. It’s about them. Nothing is against what you long for in your heart.

Yes, other people have those things and you watch them and you wonder, why them and not me?  You wonder if they appreciate it like you would.  Whether they worked for it like you’re prepared to.  Whether it’s run out.  Whether they got your share.  They didn’t.  They did not.  Yours is out there.  It’s coming.  It will come.

It might look different to how you were imagining.  It might be a winding confusing sort of a road.  You might trip over, you might feel lost, it could get dark, but just you hold on my love.  Just you hold on.  Keep your heart open, know that you are worth it, let go of anything and anybody who says you aren’t.  And wait.  Keep breathing and wait.  And while you’re waiting, listen.  Listen to what your heart knows.  It knows it’s coming.  It knows you will get there.

One day, one wonderfully normal day, you will look around and you will see it.  Surrounding you.  You found it.  It found you.  It came together, quietly.  There was no one moment.  No orchestra soaring.  Just a heartbeat, probably.  A normal one.  A step.  A turn towards the sun.  Followed by another and then another.  And here you are.

You walk along the street and you see somebody wearing your old shoes.  They look how you looked and you feel what they feel. You wish you could help them to know.  And you wrap them in love and hold them in your heart and wish and wish for them.  And you hold yourself and your wholeness and whisper your thanks.  When you’ve been where you’ve been you never stop the thank you.

It will come, my love, it will come.

Love, your Self x


I couldn’t find a picture I wanted to illustrate this post with and then I looked up and saw part of the morning landscape in our house and realised it illustrates all that I waited for.  I spared you last nights pans which we somehow didn’t deal with. Ahem. 

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6 thoughts on “it will come { a letter to my self }

    1. Thank you Caroline, I really appreciate you saying. Had that naked in public feeling when I posted it but at the same time it’s healing to speak to those parts of myself. Maybe I’ll find that I write more letters here. And surely there’ll always be those mornings! x

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  1. This is so beautiful, thank you for the big bold sharing. It’s from the heart and that’s where I felt it very much. Totally appreciate the naked in public feeling! But then your freedom of words and sharing gives uss permission to do the same. As for pots, I’m looking at last week’s pots in the sink, not just last night! xxox

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  2. What a privilege to a letter that is so personal to you!
    I particulary loved this part :
    “There was no one moment. No orchestra soaring. Just a heartbeat, probably. A normal one. A step. A turn towards the sun. Followed by another and then another. And here you are.”
    The ego often wants fanfares and grand arrivals, but the truth is our lives turn up bit by bit by having the courage to walk each step. Thanks for the reminder.
    PS Don’t think of yourself as naked, just clothed in beautiful words:)

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    1. Oh Claire, thank you, such a lovely comment. I always seem to expect fanfares or some kind of ta-daaaa! but I’ve been shown often that a slow unfolding with the passing of time is more like it. Haven’t always had the patience or optimism or trust but I’m working on it πŸ™‚ x

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