Tuesday, 26 November 2013

Dear Alex, A letter to myself, from a ten-year-old me.






Dear Alex,

My tuesday morning appointment to see my Psychologist was straight after the school drop off. Morning yawns, mist rolls, relishing the surroundings, I take it all in on the short drive to see her. I go over the dreams that I so vividly dream the night after and the night before visits, I have asked for an early appointment, afraid that if it is later on in the day I will chicken out! I never realised how brave it was confronting and saying out loud the things you live with, the thoughts you pretend not to have and suppress. The 'unthinkables' become not so scary, not so forbidden in acknowledging them, feeling them for a while and walking away, leaving them there till next time. It is a helpful, productive and safe way of looking back over the past two years, and indeed over my entire life.

She asked me if I had ever written to myself? That as I write to you Alex, and the kids sometimes, that I write letters a lot in my head that never get written or sent, it seemed like it was something natural for me to do.

I think back, I haven't, apart from the letter I wrote myself when I was 10-years-old, to open on my 20th birthday...I start to cry uncontrollable tears as I go over what I wrote, how I longed to run back and grab that little 10-year-old me and cuddle her, and tell her it was OK, I would grow up big and strong and I would deal with life, and not to be afraid...I do not recall all the letter, in one of our moves it was lost, but I remember writing 'have you got 4 kids and are you a primary school teacher?' My ambition by the time I was 20 was clearly this! Then at the bottom of the letter I had attached dried lavender as a present, which I use every day on my pillow to lull me to sleep these days, and I had written,

'Big 20-year-old Tamsyn, whatever you do in life, just keep persevering..

Love 10-year-old me.'

Remembering this has made me so sad. The significance and somewhat prophetic nature of my letter.

I feel like I want to run back to then, guide myself through all this holding my own hand in the absence of you not being able to do it Alex.

But I don't feel like I can, because I think I feel too vulnerable, although in many ways I have over the past two years... I guess maybe it feels unfair then? Like I shouldn't have to?? I need someone to just care for me, look after me through all this...and I face of future of never having you being able to fulfil that role...

I have a lot to work through!

She has set me the task of trying to write to myself...Can I?

Where do I start?


me xxxxxxxxxxxx

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