Letters to Me

In therapy an exercise I found a lot of insight and use for was writing letters to myself. Sometimes to my body. Sometimes to a younger part of myself. The letter writing process allowed me to step back and re-frame events and speak to a distinct and/or distant part of myself.

I wrote to myself today.

“I know there is nothing bad about me. Smoking or making mistakes does not make me bad. Avoiding mistakes or doing things right all the time doesn’t keep me safe.

I am safe.

I am cared for and loved.

I am good even though I smoke.

I am smart and flawed.

I am grateful and proud.

I make mistakes and I am NOT bad.

I am releasing my shame. It is old. I do not need it. It does not keep me safe. It holds me back from being me. Me in technicolor. I am capable of fully being me. I am not afraid.

In days ahead I will astonish even myself. Some days I will be quiet and internal. Right now I am healing.

You, I am sending you all my love and healing. I am sending all my love and bright light I have stored. I am taking your sadness and lifting it up off of you.

I am helping the scared little girl out of the hole. The frightened little girl who didn’t understand what was happening to her. Who thought she was bad. Held onto the shame and confusion. I see you. I love you.

As I bend down on one knee, I say “You are not bad. You are perfect. You are me. You are precious. You deserve safety and security and you have it. We are safe. I apologize to you for not hearing you sooner. I am sorry I didn’t listen hard enough to what you were saying. I take away your tears and your sadness. I hear them and I love you. I can bear your burden . I am strong enough to bear them now. I am sorry this happened to you. You did not deserve it. You are my light that shines through. You are brave and courageous. I admire your strength and survival. You are not shamed.”

I realize I do not need these limiting thoughts. They do not keep me safe. They keep me stuck. I allow them to be released. Thank you for them. Thank you for trying to keep me safe and from hurting. I love you for that. I always have and always will.