Nearly six years ago to the day, I started this blog. I had no idea when I wrote my first entry that within a few months I would be boarding a plane to San Francisco, or that I’d still be there six years later with that orange cat I dreamed up. I had no idea how many times I would fall in love, or how I would write about it here. Well, maybe I had some idea that I would write about it here. I needed to. I didn’t have the tools to speak honestly, fearlessly, emotionally. I didn’t have the confidence to reveal the parts of myself that I considered shameful, weak, or undesirable. I didn’t have the insight to accept that I am a complex and emotional creature, imperfect.
Increasingly over the past year or two, I have contributed less and less to this blog, and not for a lack of trying. I’ve started entry after entry, and each time my brain would start to feel like I was wearing a hat that was too tight. My brain feels like that now. It may be that I need glasses, I wouldn’t rule it out, but if I’m honest, as I’ve committed to be, I think it’s because I’m trying to hold onto something that is ending.
Having this outlet has allowed me to outgrow it. This blog has given me the confidence to speak my truth directly rather than in carefully coded messages. This blog has helped me follow my gut and find gratification in my work, my family, the friends who have stayed close. Still, I’m clinging on to this blog. I’m clinging on to this blog because some of my finest writing is contained in it. I’m clinging on to this blog because in many cases it’s the last connection I have to people who are no longer in my life, but hold a lasting place in my heart.
This blog has been a gift, an opportunity to share all the joy and pain that I couldn’t contain within myself, that I feel so grateful to have possessed. This blog, as exposed as it is, has been my safety. It has been the thing that has allowed me to be more authentic, more self-accepting, more kind and honest and brave than I thought possible. The time that I’ve spent here has been precious. I want to stay in this place forever and feel these feeling indefinitely. But, if I’ve discovered anything through this process, it’s that there is a time for everything, and that time passes, and here so has mine.
To each of you who has read and responded to these letters, thank you for letting me be heard. Thank you for your kind words. Thank you for joining me in this journey so I didn’t have to walk it alone.
To each of you who have found yourself directly or indirectly the subject of my letters, know that at the root of each word there is a profound and timeless love. Know that I am aware of the role I played. Know that there are things I would change. Know that I have many regrets. Know that I think of you often and struggle not to write you daily. Know that I’ll continue to read the words I wrote for you, and that I will continue to want the things I asked of you. Most importantly, thank you for being patient with me and compassionate towards me.
The time for this place has passed, but rather than mourn the end, please join me in celebrating a new beginning.
For the last time here, but forever yours, and with love,