A Love Letter To Yourself

Try This: Rip a button off of a shirt, then sew it on again. Contemplate the Zen of pointlessness. 

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”    ~William Wordsworth “A real love letter is made of insight, understanding, and compassion. Otherwise it’s not a love letter. A true love letter can produce a transformation in the other person, and therefore in the world. […] Some letters may take the whole of our lifetime to write.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

In a deviation from the usual posts, this post is filled with excerpts from my own journal. I have always journaled, but in 2024 I started journaling differently. I started each entry as a letter to myself, wrote it in second-person point of view, and let that “me-not-me” voice become the voice of encouragement. 

This voice expressed understanding of what I was going through but also helped me remember the moments of beauty each day–and always ended with an uplifting note. 

Over time, I’ve noticed a change in my attitude and my ability to endure difficult times. I attribute much of that change to the love letters I write to myself, being always on my own side even while gently reminding myself not to get stuck in self-pity. For what it’s worth, this is the kind of journaling I recommend to you, and this is what it looks like for me.

~

Dear Cindy,

You are wandering in the strange and dark land of boredom. These past two weeks have been silent, empty landscapes, and you feel pressed down, numbed, and yes, ashamed you are not equal to it. And yet you are equal to it. You have, mostly, ridden it out without toppling into old patterns of distraction. Keep letting it shape you. Let it teach you something about gratitude, about anxiety, about what you want and need. […] Let yourself soften. Find the bindu of mental tension, of emotional pain, and fill it with soothing breath. It’s okay. You’re okay. You will never be perfect, and you will never be safe from death. In those truths lies freedom. 

~

Dear Cindy,

Question: Can you accept the gift of all you accomplished this weekend and use it to take these three days before Thanksgiving at a slow, spacious pace? No anxiety needed? You CAN.

~

Dear Cindy,

The problem is not that you’re so sore and so tired. The problem is that you’re believing it’s a sign of failure–that you failed in listening to your body, and that you failed in letting yourself get out of shape. Oh dearest. This is the voice of the saboteur, the odious little man with the megaphone in your head. It is what it is. You did your best to do all that yoga with ease, and you are getting better at it (the ease part). Still, you’re allowed to make mistakes, to push too hard or stay too long. You are amazing nevertheless! Never feel that you have failed. It’s all your journey, your beautiful learning, your way of navigating the world, of finding home right here, in yourself. 

~

Dear Cindy,

The tiny purple blossoms on the tree trunk were like a miracle of beauty just for you. Meanwhile, the world is strange, and fear and sadness are justifiable responses to it. You will keep having good days and bad days, days of magic and light and days of mild torment. You will have spikes of fear about death and aging and eternity and madness. You will write, and some of it will be good enough to satisfy you. You will read more books. You will question most of your reading choices. You will always struggle with food. Maybe a little less every year. You will always be who you are, and that will always be enough even when it doesn’t feel so. You’ve got this.

 ~

Dear Cindy,

You pulled yourself together at lunch, but it seemed as if everyone you saw knew you had been crying. But oh, Cindy, you had a bad day following a bad day following a week of sickness and bad days and some disillusionment, and you cannot blame yourself. You are not yet unflappable. That’s okay. You still have much to learn about managing work and your mental health. But you are not a failure. Chin up, buttercup. 

~

As you can see, love journaling is different than other kinds of journaling. You’re not listing the day’s activities. You’re not writing in-depth about your feelings or trying to analyze them. You’re not listing reasons to be grateful. 

Instead, you’re being honest about what you’re feeling and about the mistakes you’ve made–but you’re not “soaking” in those things. Neither are you trying to convince yourself that everything you do and feel is right and that everyone else is wrong. You’re looking at yourself with perspective, and then you’re soothing and encouraging yourself. You’re seeing your faults but also giving yourself great compassion and gentleness. Give it a try.