One letter sent, one letter written and on my desk. I wouldn't call it a compendium yet, but it is exciting to have started. I am doing a thing! It is getting completed! That momentum in writing and doing has always been very motivating for me. For the first letter, I decided to explain my project. This person, Amy*, knows me well, but it seemed a little strange to randomly send her a letter of gratitude. Would I feel weird if someone did that to me?
This time, I decided just to start. The more I tried to write another explanation of my project for this second letter, the more it felt like I was explaining away some of the feeling behind it. If this letter was just a project, then I wasn't sending it because I wanted to; I was sending the letter because I had to. My gratitude was just a part of a project; I wasn't allowing the message to stand on it's own.
Why was I doing that?
Sometimes, I have a tendency to hedge feelings in something more comfortable, in a reason or intention other than what it is. It's a way to detach myself a bit. It's an interesting form of self-deception, one I think many people are guilty of. I'm going to share my feelings with you, Amy, but it's for a project/a holiday/because Mom told me to say it, so, you know, don't get too excited, because I'm not that invested. It's this notion that someone could share their feelings in stealth-mode, so that no one has to invest without a way out. Because, FEELINGS.
The truth is, though, is that that is not what I'm looking for anymore. I don't want to hedge my bets, I don't want to couch my feelings in something feels more palatable. Because the two women I wrote letters to? They're amazing. Brave, thoughtful, loving, kind. Amazing. And they should know.
*Not her real name.
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