I’m sorry we haven’t talked yet this year and I’m only just now catching you at the tail end of your visit.
I read back on our letters from last year and I find it hard to recognize my own words.
I still am very much me, but there’s something else now. There’s a whole new chunk of me.
I met you this time right in the midst of a massive disappointment- I had just been fired from the job May had given me this year. I had created a plan for how I would survive these summer months and it was crumbling around me. Then as soon as you arrived I was catapulted into one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had. I thrived working that tv show gig and I found my little slice of sun. But when it was over as quick as it started I was left again with nowhere to go. No job to work, no reason to set an alarm clock and have a routine. Once I had given up finding a way out of this room I was seemingly doomed to live in forever, a friend came and knocked a huge hole in the wall and presented me with a new job. A better job with consistent full time hours. Everything I could’ve hoped for. I dove headfirst towards that opportunity and submersed myself into this new life. I created a routine that allowed me to laser focus onto each task, and, before I knew it, the days flew by.
Last year I left you with a hope and a determination.
I think this year I leave you knowing how much work it takes to maintain that hope and determination.
July, I think what’s been irking me lately is the fact that I am back in the same house that I was in when I wrote to you last year, yet I am not the same me. This past year has led me to people and places that this house has never seen. I’ve proven myself this past year in ways that the people in this place could never imagine.
I am not who I was and I wish I could convince these people at home of that.
But is it them that need the convincing? If it were would I bother writing these thoughts in a letter that probably only I will ever read?
Maybe I’m really trying to convince myself that this past year wasn’t random luck. That all the things I’ve accomplished and all the chances I’ve taken and all the obstacles I’ve tackled weren’t just flukes.
Have I allowed myself to discredit all that I’ve done this past year just because I have found myself back in the same physical place that I was last year?
Maybe what you’ll leave me with this year, July, is the permission to cut myself some slack.
I’m doing what I can with what I’ve been given.
And I haven’t done too bad for myself.
I’m afraid I must leave you now with this jumbled mess of thoughts. If I stay up much later, I’ll break my routine and right now that’s all I got.
I’m still figuring it out, July, and I think I have a bit more faith in my competence this time.
All my love, Nikki.