It feels like I haven’t posted anything on here in 12,000 years. The pieces I have written this past year may surface someday, but I felt as if I couldn’t share my thoughts when I was writing from a place of confusion and disorientation. It felt ingenuine to preach peace when all I knew was disarray. Now as things have started to somewhat stabilize, I decided to write my 2019-2020 self a letter. If you can benefit from it, I am honored, if you cannot, I’ll get over it. Nonetheless, it felt wonderful to write:
Dear 2019-2020 Kristen,
- You will be so proud of how far you have come.
As I write this, you have completed your first year of graduate school at the University of Michigan (#1 MSW program in the country), receiving all A’s (remember when you weren’t going to apply there because you didn’t think you would get in?). You can drive again. You’ve been seizure-free for over a year. You haven’t drank in over a year. And you’re preparing your next steps to move. How did you get here, knowing where you began?
Epilepsy isn’t fun, but you handled your diagnosis well. I know the struggle that came with it, I know your fears and your frustration. I know your loneliness. If I could show you what today looked like, you would no longer lay awake at night. You have nothing to worry about and you will eventually see this period as your greatest blessing thus far.
I know working with so many different doctors and specialists is frustrating but honor the feelings that come with this experience. You were blessed to understand the role of a patient. Understand the fears that come when life feels beyond our control. You will become a better clinician because you felt patient concerns firsthand.
- I’m so happy you get to experience getting your license all over again. That’s a freedom far too overlooked and underappreciated. You’ve added some amazing songs to your playlist, so you have an excuse to drive forever (cue verse 3 of Rubble to Rubble by Wilderado to tug on your heart). Speaking of music, it’s time to actually learn the ukulele again.
- But anyway, never forget your loved ones that stood by you and made sure you got what you needed or where you needed to be during this time. Some of my favorite examples: Dani making weekly 40+ min. drives just to make sure you were fully stocked with homemade celery juice, and Jordan and Colton reworking their life/work schedules to make sure you always had rides to/from work. Also, mom learning to make keto cookies the day you had to start Modified Atkins diet because she knew you’d crave sweets, receiving love letters from Nicole, Danielle, and Sarah when you needed them most, the hugs and snugs, and crop top you needed from Ham, the weekly calls to scream with Hailey and the much-needed road trip including Molly, KP, and our homegirl Steph. Also thank you Mike for my favorite succulent that stays in my bedroom window. In times where you were beside yourself, and in pure disbelief of your situation, so many people showed up to help carry some of the weight, and for this, you will know how loved you are.
- I know you feel outcasted, burdensome, and fragile, but once that passes, you will see why this happened and that your priorities needed to be rearranged. You will lose the social identity you knew, and it will be so indescribably hard. But you will find a haven in old characteristics, which you thought you had lost over the years. You will have a lot of time alone, all dedicated to school. I can’t remember the last time I said such a statement haha, but you will relearn hard work, commitment, and pursuit of curiosities. You will gather new information and form actual beliefs and opinions, removing any excuses to be uninvolved and uninformed. You now know what you are advocating for and you cannot hide behind being naive.
- Death is hard, even when it’s expected. I know the pain you felt when you had to let go of these people (+ Oscar), recent and past. But you saw the connection it brought. There is so much beauty in death, but that’s a conversation for another day, just know you will see the beauty at some point. People and places will continue to comfort you when you least expect it…like the random priests who hugged you as you cried at Coney Island or hearing grandpa’s harmonica in Arizona, played by a man named Hallelujah.
As difficult as death is, observing it as a young adult has unlocked so many new emotions as well as new curiosities and passions. It is a very powerful experience at this time in life and worth pursuing deeper.
- Don’t waste your time apologizing for the past 10 years or so. We get it, you’re aware you messed up on several occasions, but these are unsolicited apologies and selfish ones at that. Though apologizing seems right when you’ve recognized you are in the wrong, a wonderful individual will come along and not-so-kindly tell you to shut the fuck up and never talk to them again. Take this as advice rather than taking it as an offense. You will learn that not all forgiveness requires reconnection, that people are in the right to be mad even when you’re sorry, and that clearing your conscience may also be opening old wounds for others. Be considerate of this and find ways to forgive yourself, rather than asking for others to forgive you.
- Lastly, it’s easy to feel like you’re behind when seemingly everyone else is moving and doing more “adult” things than you. I understand that being fired from your job and moving back in with your parents was not a part of the plan, but here we are and you’re still on “track,” whatever that means. I see you dragging your feet with each step at home, but you need to stop resisting your parents so much and embrace the time you have here. It’s fleeting and it’s worth appreciating. Also, don’t discredit yourself, I see the long nights you put in and the effort you give to your clients. I see the love you have for your friends and family and I see the goals you have set for yourself. They are achievable, they are abundant. You’re doing great.
Life is blooming in the lots that appeared vacant.
All the love,
Kristen
