Dear self one year (and some months) ago,
You tried to write kaddish for an ending. You tried to sketch the knots of pain and brush swirls of melancholy around the sharp edges to soften them. You picked up ballet slippers and attempted to move gracefully through the clumsy transition of marriage to singlehood. Over a year later, you won't feel much more graceful about things. You will still feel uncomfortable articulating why you left. You will still hesitate to tell your story because that's only half the equation and you still honor his side. You know you are not the only one who hurt and you will still feel protective over his feelings. You will still want good things for him. This has been a terrible time for you both.
But something beautiful will come out of this year. You, science girl, dove into the arts to help you heal. Learning how to draw, dance, to fall. You will become your own stunt double and learn how to dive into life without a net. And you will not lose hope for love. Hang in there.
Love,
your older self
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