Hey you,
Happy New Year! I know I usually open letters with hopes of all being well, but I know that the past year or so have been far from that… that over a year ago, “well” favored a seemingly set future that suddenly dissipated into a hovering darkness that snatched you from the light of days to come. “Well” is something you’re getting to know again. I know; that shit wasn’t easy, digging your way out of demised dreams. But here you are! This year isn’t just the turn of another decade; it is the turning over of self, from the grips of a shadowy grave that held you for far too long. You mustered the remnants of what life and faith you did have and decided to push your way back toward the light.
I know you have no idea of what will unfold, but I do. And I need you to know it gets better. I know from where you are, you have yet to grasp what better looks like. You just know you want it. And though you’ve willed yourself to no longer steep in the pain of yesteryears, 2010 will, I hate to say, unearth deeper hurts before you move forward. You’ve yet to realize the work that must be done to get to “better”. More than losing him or them or who you were expecting to be at this point in your life. It’s much deeper. You will lose more weight. You will lose more sleep. You will lose your more hair, and eventually have to get all your locs shaved off. You will lose friends. And to top it off, you will even leave your job. As if all this isn’t enough to bear, that therapist you, reluctantly at first, started seeing early last year, will give you a jarring wake-up call: if you get admitted, she will no longer be able to treat you; she stopped making hospital visits years ago. Yeah, I know you’re having a major WTF moment right now. What’s there to hope for if life is just going to break you down more than it already has? Listen when I tell you: facing the challenges on this side of the struggle is far more rewarding. I promise you. Even though your therapist had to talk you off the edge of insanity, therapy is undoubtedly working. The new church you joined last year becomes more than a new place of worship; it is the birthing ground of lasting connections, uncharted talents and an elevated faith that will carry you for years to come. The apartment you moved into this past summer becomes less of twelve-month lease and more of a home, really the first you’ve had since you left Whitestone. And though depression and anxiety left you riddled, inside and out, you, for the first time in a long time, can look yourself in the mirror without disgust in your own reflection. You begin so see you again. A new you. And she is beautiful. And she is creative. And she is intelligent. And she is loyal. And she is worthy of love.
readjusting to the light, circa 2010
By the end of 2010, though not completely, you will begin to accept all of this. And in these realizations, a new hope is formed. A hope to find liberation in healing. A hope to experience love wholly. A hope to live fully and unapologetically. A hope for a life so rich, it would be undeniable that God deserves all the glory for granting you it. So, you believe it. You make room for it. You rehearse it. You even make a vision board before the close of the year, reminding you to remain expectant. These expectations usher you, not only through this next year, but further than you can fathom.
Eventually, sad to say, the vision board is destroyed, either unintentionally or for lack of care. This, however, is no depiction of your fate. Chavares, I am telling you, from today, ten years later, your hope is not destroyed nor in vain. All you desire has or has started to come to pass. You will heal, so much so that new hurts serve no threat because you’ve learned to fully embrace the healing process. You will create, in manners familiar and newly discovered, alike. You will explore parts of the world that you’ve only seen on postcards and pictures. You will learn to evolve outside of comfortability. You will leap with nothing securing you but faith alone. You will soar by the power of the same. And as if it isn’t hard enough to conceive all of this, you will, indeed, love, as though you have never known it to fail. You will forgive and give again. You will let go and go forth. You will taste and see, then testify of how great God is. Life, today as I journey into another decade, is beyond what you could have imagined in 2010… beyond the pasted clippings and glittered words you, with that new-found optimism, collaged onto a poster board, hoping to experience a fraction of it all. Life, today, is abundantly more.
And it is because of you, Chavares. Many have no idea of the battles you fought to get to where we are now. A decade ago, you chose to push. You chose to sacrifice. You chose to be broken then break away.
You chose growth. You chose peace. You chose joy. You chose to live.
And for that, I am extremely grateful.
Thank you, Chavares, for choosing us and not giving up when it seemed the only option we had. I love you, and I look forward to what our future holds.
Sincerely,
You