a letter to present-day me
Last week, I wrote about my commitment to myself this year: to be afraid, and do it anyway. I’m sure this will manifest in a thousand different ways, but right now, my sights are set on addressing my chronic pain.
I decided to get a coach to help me on my exercise journey, because trying to tackle this with willpower alone wasn’t cracking it. As part of my goal-setting, my coach asked me to write a letter to present-day me, from the perspective of one year from now. She told me to dream big and be aspirational.
Here’s that letter:
___
Hey Sunshine,
Do you remember how, last year, you committed to living a “creative life?” And then you showed up at a coffee shop every single morning to do something creative for an entire year?
Do you remember how much your life changed as a result of that?
That wasn’t some fluke: you accomplish incredible things when you set your mind to something. You aren’t the same person who picked up a new hobby every week, only to abandon it in a closet somewhere buried in dust and shame. You aren’t fickle or undedicated. I’m living proof of that.
So let me paint a picture for you:
When I wake up every morning, my back doesn’t usually hurt. It still does sometimes — but that’s because I slept funny, which is a normal thing to happen to adults, and not because my body has mislearned how to support my joints. I still wake up and do a light stretch, but I’m not afraid to do it anymore. I’m not waiting for that telltale tweak to disable me for weeks. I’m not scared of my body anymore.
Working out doesn’t make me want to cry. It doesn’t feel like a guessing game of “can I proprio-sense that muscle or not?” Those little stabilizer muscles don’t start shaking at the first sign of activation. It feels challenging, but that’s because my muscles are growing, not because my body is fighting me at every turn.
When I look in the mirror, I see the evidence of all my hard work. Your hard work. I see a body that looks the way I feel — the type of body people look at and think, Damn, I think that tiny person could take me in a fight.
And the last Battle Game…it was incredible. I didn’t have to sit out half way through because my back was acting up. I got 6 consecutive eliminations in the last group battle, and Tom had to tell me it was time to go because I kept begging him for one more duel. Kwon got another video recording of me doing something really fucking cool. You’ll see.
Something changed when you started this program: you decided to become someone who prioritizes your health and strength, and you backed it up with action. Just like you became someone who prioritized your creativity and mental wellbeing. You stopped relying on innate predispositions. “Enough” stopped being enough. You deserve better than this, Lea. And I know it’s hard, and it’s unfair, and you just wish your body would cooperate: but that’s just like wishing your parents had been different. This is what you’re working with. The only way you’re going to get on the other side of it is if you put in the work.
I know that feels daunting. I know you’re looking at the road ahead and seeing all these barriers and potholes. But look behind you at the mountain of shit you have overcome, the absolute chaos of pitfalls you’ve surpassed. Nothing will ever be as hard as that. Nothing will ever be as hard as learning to communicate honestly, or to set boundaries, or to disregard that internalized voice that tells you you’re a bad, hurtful person.
You already did all of that. The gap between you and me? That’s nothing. You’re pretty much already there. I just need you to keep going.
Look: past us has done a lot of the work. You already have a life so full of sunshine and love and creativity. We’ve taken care of all of that so you can focus on this. This is your task. This is the quest. This is the XP you gain to level up and unlock your third multiattack.
You’ve got this. I’ll be here waiting for you. We can arm wrestle when you get here.
Love, Lea
P.S.:
Your hair has FINALLY grown out. Please don’t shave it all off again. Just dye it or something the next time you get bored, or get a new piercing. It takes way too long to grow.
You’ve been brought onto the [REDACTED] team as a Director. Great job choosing not to settle for anything less. You are so over being undervalued for your work.
Both your novels got picked up by agents. It took a LOT of tries though, so don’t give up!
You have so many new ideas for books, and you’ve learned how you operate as a writer. You have a good system for generating, tracking, and fleshing out new ideas. You’re practically swimming in them. Leaving your job to write and create full time…we’re not there yet, but you’ve got a better idea of what that world could look like. And it doesn’t seem so far away as it used to.
And just in case you forgot: I love you, and I’m proud of you.
