A Letter To Myself

I know it’s hard.

I know that not every week will be like this last week.

I know that working hard pays off.

I also know that working hard sometimes takes everything you have and buries it deep down.

When your best friend tells you she has to put her dog down that she’s had for 15 years, and that you’ve known for 13, down, you’ll feel empty. You’ll support her and check in on her, but you won’t feel sad.

When your partner is trying not to cry because their dog is sick and their little sister is crying, you’ll offer to drive to Kenora and pick up the dog and bring her here. You’ll have little sleep,  you’ll have had a long exhausting day, you’ll drive to meet their dad, drive back home with the dog, your partner and their brother. You won’t talk a lot becuase you’re tired and your back hurts.

When you have to explain to your mom what anxiety attacks are and how your brother might be having them becuase of the PTSD he feels from his hard life, you’ll get annoyed when she asks too many questions. You’ll get mad when she needs to talk more but you have to go.

Today you will watch a Grey’s Anatomy episode where everyone deals with grief and you will go have a shower and cry until it hurts.

You’ll grieve for Oreo and Danielle and feel sad and wish you had gone to take pictures of them so Danielle could cherish them.

You’ll feel sad knowing Raina might not be around much longer, and Court is going to need you.

You’ll think of a bunch of ways to say you love your mom, but you won’t say it.

You’ll want to text your brother, but you won’t.

You’ll try to remember that not every week is going to be this hard, and struggle to understand why some are.

You will go celebrate your best friend’s 25 birthday and come home to Raina, who needs to be the little spoon, and hold her for a bit.

You’ll relax, take a deep breath, and try again tomorrow.

You can do this.