Dear Anxiety,
Although you haven’t “officially” been a part of my life until this year, I’ve felt your presence throughout my 17 years of living. I remember feeling you while I was alone in the grocery aisle, or while waiting outside a public bathroom for a familiar face to come out. Anxiety, you always had a way of sneaking up on me and stealing all the joy and fun out of situations. Like my family’s love for amusement parks. Because of you, I hate roller coasters. I’m always afraid I’ll get stuck on the chainlift or trapped in the harnesses. All I wanted was to enjoy spending time with my siblings and parents during these vacations; I don’t remember sending you an invite.
I’m normally not a person who speaks about hatred of something, but Anxiety, you’ve put me through a lot. It’s...
Lifestyle
Dear Me,
Step away from the craft glue. That's right, put it down, and move away from the craft project area. There's something very wrong with this picture - and I don't mean the giant collage you've been frantically sticking bits of crepe paper on to. Here's the problem: the kids are know where to be seen. They've got bored, and wondered off to watch TV. This means three things: 1)You'll feel obliged to finish off the craft yourself to prove it was worth it, 2) It will take much, much longer to clean everything up than it did to do the activity, and 3) The kids will NOT appreciate your efforts.
I don't know why you do it to yourself. Because I know your secret: you hate craft. And all the fiddly bits of sequins, paddle pop sticks and felt that goes with it. You hate that it's such...
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Dear pre-pregnant self,
You don’t know this, but in a few short years, your body will do something miraculous. It will stretch and grow and give everything to a small person who will change your world.
Your husband will still love you, still find you attractive and you don’t have to brush off his compliments, because they are genuine.
Your friends will complain about their stretch marks, their saggy breasts and their inability to lose those “last 10 pounds,” but you don’t have to join them. Instead be proud of who you are. Know that yes, you are beautiful, but just like your mother always said, outside beauty isn’t everything, it’s what’s on the inside that really matters.
Let the world see the joy in your heart, your passion for changing the world and your love for fellow man...
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Dear Freshman Year Me,
I know the thought of your freshman year of college is definitely scarier than your freshman year of high school. I mean, at least in high school you know at least one other person going to the same death trap as you. But despite what your parents, peers and past professors have told you, your first year of college will bring you many gifts, gifts that will enrich the rest of your years in college.
You will meet so many amazing, inspiring people that will push you to limits you never knew you had, in addition to gaining an exponential amount of knowledge to keep in your arsenal for the future. Your freshman year will only be a nightmare if you let it: don't set yourself up for failure. Know what you are capable of and where you can improve and move up from...
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Dear future self,
Congratulations, you’ve made it to 41. If you’re still living in your parents pool house, don’t feel bad. We all move at our own pace. I hope this letter finds you well. You know, I normally hate that line, mostly because it’s hardly ever genuine except as an ice-breaking device used in emails just before asking for something, usually money. But I mean it. ‘Well’ is pretty relative term, but you know what I mean–better. Better than today. It’s November 5th, 2015.
For record-keeping, I’ll set the scene. I’m writing from bed, the computer in my lap and Monty sleeping on the edge in his spot. I am achy, heavy-bodied, and nursing a head-ache that now spans the entirety of my face. It’s strangely resistant to pain medicine so I use frozen peas to numb it. I feel the...
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To Myself, When the World Has Gone Mad:
When the world has gone mad, don’t give up hope. Hold onto HopeBecause it will, and you will want to.
Things will seem too big, too unfixable, too impossible to understand. When wrong gives rise to wrong and harm ignites harm, when reason is trampled by rising chaos, when everywhere you turn there is darkness, that is when you must hold on to hope the most.
When the world has gone mad, you will feel violated. You will watch war erupt on one front and then another. You will watch windows being smashed and businesses being destroyed and buildings burning to the ground. You will watch justice be perverted, criminal actions lauded as heroic, and communities devastate themselves. You will watch sickness claim the healthy and sadness consume...
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To my friend whom I trust with knowing my life story and everything going on in my life, thank you for listening.
You know I absolutely hate crying, and you do, too, but you always encourage me to cry in hopes it will make me feel better. Because I hate crying, I won't in front of other people for fear of embarrassment and judgement. But I can always come crying to you. Whether it's a few tears, or a hysterical breakdown, you are always there to hold and hug me while I cry. I can't cry alone because of self punishment, and when I need to cry you're always there to listen to me and support me.
When I'm on the verge of a panic attack, having a panic attack, wanting to cry for stupid reasons, or needing to cry for serious reasons, you're always there for me to cry. You don't judge me....
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Dear 2013,
“What happened to your sex life?”
These were the first words out of Starr’s mouth when she saw me on New Year’s Eve. Starr is the Curandera who took me in for five weeks after we serendipitously met as I was passing through Hot Springs, Arkansas on my five month road trip. My girlfriend Lynne Litt, a TV writer/producer from LA, and I had just arrived at the geodesic dome that Starr and her Shaman husband Art call home. We were there to spend New Year’s Eve with them.
“I haven’t had sex since last New Year’s Eve, a year ago today,” I mumbled, while blushing and trying to hide my embarrassment by crouching down to say hello to their new dog, a gentle two-year old Rottweiler named Queenie.
“We need to work on your second chakra, you really need help with sex and with...
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Dear Mum,
Until having Bobby you were ‘Mum’. You were my mum. I loved you, and I thought I appreciated you enough.
You were the one who gave birth to me - and cared for me - whilst already having three other children under the age of six.
When you were pregnant with me and caring for me as a newborn, you were busy raising my three older sisters. And all whilst simultaneously being diagnosed with Coeliac Disease – an illness that saw you hospitalised and bed-bound for weeks on end.
You started me in a variety of sports at an early age, and for many years you were taking me to training sessions and games up to four times a week.
You drove me to sports training after your own long, hard day of work, giving up the chance to be at home with your feet up.
You were the one who would yell...
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Dear patients,
This is a hard letter to write, but it is important that you know about a major change that is coming for both of us in 2017, just a short year away.
As you recall, last year I left a large hospital group practice and opened my own office, and I want to thank you for your faithfulness in following me to my new location. With the newfound freedom of running my own practice, I love being your doctor more than ever.
As a family physician in Southwest Florida, the majority of my patients are insured by Medicare, and you, my Medicare patients, are very important to me. Not just for my financial livelihood, but because of the relationships that we have formed together over the last 15 years in this community.
I have welcomed you to Medicare with screening tests,...
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