How a letter to my always baby sister turned into a love letter to myself.
Hey guys, Kimmy is here this morning sharing a post. I’ll be popping in with a second post this afternoon with meal / snack inspiration, in case you need some <3
I recently moved out of my cozy, comforting, crazy house for the third time (this time will be the charm, I promise) and into my very own apartment!!! (well, ⅕ of it is mine, anyways hehe).
Honestly, it’s taken me two weeks to realize that truly embracing this new step of adulthood is going to take some serious grit, coping skill-wise, especially knowing that living with four other girls means being around people who fall somewhere on the diet/exercise mentality spectrum in one way or another.
What have I been doing, you may ask? Weelll…
1. Setting actual boundaries. I was always the type of person that thought boundaries were a cliche and never understood the general concept. Now, though, I see that making sure I am in a comfy place and unwinding by a certain time is healthy and comforting. Also, I’m imposing self-care (of some sort) as a priority. I really want to get back into doing art, so we’ll see how I am able to explore that. Something I’ve realized since I’ve began writing my posts and putting together the graphics is that I LOVE playing around and experimenting with graphic design!!
2. Letting go of / Relaxing certain perfectionist tendencies. Like only allowing myself to feel calm when everything in the apartment looks cute (yeahh, not going to happen on our budget lol–accepting it!!) or needing to give 110% in every area (I’m no good at math, but pretty sure that’s not actually viable…)
3. I try to write down at least 5 words that reflect how I felt that day and to see if any patterns pop up between common emotions and situations, or vice versa (e.g. if I notice overeating happens as soon as I walk through the door at night, when I am tired, stressed, etc). I was really good at it at first, but I think I’m going to have to start setting a timer to really cement the habit.
4. Letting loose and remembering to be a goofball as much as possible.
5. Writing. Life lately has been wonderful, stressful, exhilarating, painful, and sometimes, lonely. I started writing a letter to my sister today, but I realized that what was on the screen in front of me were really the words I never spoke to myself. I’d like to share them, if only to prove to you that even if you don’t feel it right now, all the self love you need and more is buried inside you. Sometimes it takes time to coax it out, sometimes it takes a painful life lesson or moving on from an unhealthy habit to discover it, and that’s ok.
My remarkable girl,
It’s taken me years to write you this letter. It’s long overdue. Many times in this season of life I’ve tried to put my feelings into words, and many times I felt the perfect words didn’t quite exist yet.
Many times I have treated you like an enemy. I have kept you stuck, stagnant, and scared. I let self-alienation suffocate you. I watched you wobble, and stumble, and I didn’t catch you. For these things and more, I am sorry. But I promise you, I am making it up to you and I will make it up to you every single day with every single choice, step and breath I take.
I hope that your own love will dance out of your heart and into your soul and you will wrap your arms around yourself and squeeze just enough warmth in.
I hope that one day you will step onto a starry beach and that the sand between your toes will feel comfortable and right, because you are comfortable and right, and your happiness, your dimples, the way your nose scrunches, the way your eyes twinkle–it’s all contagious.
You will dive into yourself, but you won’t drown. You will feel extremely, and you will survive.
So here’s to great sobs, caught in scratchy throats and to fists pounding pillows, for fighting the tender feelings would be like bringing flames to a forest. Choose to face the waves, to ride the tide, and each time you’re pounded by their force, choose to smile again, to savor your scars, for surviving life unscathed is simply that: surviving. Instead, choose being, experiencing, living, in this life and the next. Bashfulness and blood beating in blushing ears–these are the things I hope for you. Those are the moments to tuck away, mark and catalogue until replayed upon downy pillows and behind fluttering lids.
I hope you find peace and joy in the quotidian: in funny faces while flossing and ruby red juice dribbling down sticky chins, for that is when the ordinary becomes extraordinary.
Yes, it’s the journey that will sculpt you, like stones washed up on cloudy beaches, where blemishes serve as badges of resilience that accentuate smoothed edges.
But it is the choice to take the first step that begins the journey, so here’s to trusting hunches, here’s to something absolute–here’s to taking my hand, and here’s to finally feeling.