Dear, guys – welcome back to Letters From Liz!
I can’t believe that this summer is almost over. For us to be in a middle of a pandemic, you’d think that the summer would drag on just because a lot of the summer activities this year were out on hold! But nope: it is the end of August, about to enter September, and before you know it, it’ll be my favorite season of the year: Winter!
But speaking of August… it’s been a much different type of month for me than it was this time last year. Here’s this month’s installment of:
So, I remember anniversaries and milestones like it’s nobody’s business. It’s a blessing and a curse and in most cases, it’s the latter. When a certain time of year comes around, I am reminded of where I was years prior: every May I am reminded that 8 years ago, I put myself in a dumb situation where I could’ve been raped. Every November I am reminded that my sibling was scared I’d take my own life and having to speak to my therapist and psychologist about that low part of my life. Every August I am reminded that in 2018 we said our final goodbyes to my grandfather and in 2019, I said my final goodbyes to a person who been in my life for half of it. It’s that final one that I have to walk on getting better with.
Last week, it was a year since that night: that night where we fought and I blurred out what my soul had been wanting me to say for awhile: I needed to learn to love myself before I could love anyone else because I was struggling to balance my relationship, my mental health, and my undefined identity that so desperately wanted to strive. I sat in the chair in the kitchen, the same exact one a year ago when I was crying my eyes out, now doing the same thing, but for a different reason.
I was proud for coming from where I was to get to this exact moment: fulfilled, happy, and at peace.
To have worked at my very social job at the bookstore and to create friendships with my coworkers (mind you that pretty much got me through the heartbroken grieving phase of the healing process) meant that I got better. To attend my first ever Kpop concert back in January by myself and enjoyed the night with something I like and wanted to do meant that I got better. To go out for drinks with my coworkers after work one day and to casually attend a happy hour and just eat and laugh and connect some more meant that I got better. Traveling on a plane for the first time by myself to go to Florida and see Tori meant that I got better. To openly embrace the fact that Kpop is a major part of my everyday life and to express myself to the trading/collecting community meant that I got better. Meeting some of the greatest people in the community that understands my love for Kpop and make friendships from that meant that I got better.
I got better. Sure, I still have my moments where I’m sad and negative and angry and depressed; when I’m human, but most of my days I am happy and I’m content.
My mother even mentioned the other day something that I will forever hold close to my heart: “you’re happy and bubbly again.”
So, I’m nowhere near being done with my process, nor I doubt I’ll ever be completely done learning and growing. I know this time next year, things could be completely different; I could be completely different, but in this moment I am learning how to take care of myself and prepare myself for the future negative things that will happen; they happen to everyone. But, I will now know how to take better care of myself, and not instantly feel out of control to the point where self-harming comes to play. I will manage y emotions better and be better at prioritizing how I feel.
I guess the point of this rant is that no matter how minor or major a change in your life is, embrace it. Embrace the positives you have, embrace the negatives and learn how and why they are your negatives, embrace the qualities that you hide in the privacy of your own space and flaunt yourself to the world, embrace the fact that you are getting better and that you’re actively doing thing to make you better. The process, in this case, means much more than the final product.
I am not who I was, and August memories don’t define my being: I do, in this moment, typing this very last sentence.