Today I wrote a letter.
I started it off the only way possible - "I'm writing what will be my final letter to you." For three years I had been writing these letters in my times of desperation and complete loss of control. It had been a long time since I put my pen to the paper and wrote to him. Longer than I had even realized.
It started again this morning when I finally found some motivation to clean up the basement. I started shuffling through drawers and found a blank, unsealed envelope. Inside it were all of my letters. Three years worth of problems and heartache. I started reading through them for the first time and to say it was a difficult task would be an understatement. I spent two hours sitting on the floor of my basement reliving my life until I noticed that the letters stopped in August of 2009. That was the exact moment when it became clear to me that I never needed to write the them in the first place. It had just become habitual, part of my routine. When my dad passed away in September of 2009, I never thought about the letters again. Not until today.
In those two hours I learned so much about myself, about the real me. I was raw and honest. I didn't hold any of it back, not the judgments, arrogance, pain, addictions. I let it all out in those letters and on September 19, 2009 - I completely morphed into the person who was narrating them. I am that girl, as much as it killed me to finally own up to it. I am the judgmental, arrogant, forever in pain girl. The only difference now is that I can handle it. I've learned to roll with the punches and kick aside the rocks that life throws in my path. I no longer need to write letters to someone who is long gone to release my demons. I never should have had to.
So I picked up a pen and a pad of paper and I wrote "I'm writing what will be my final letter to you."
It will be, because I am okay.