Unsent Letters: To those with broken hearts

This is part of a series of posts titled "Unsent Letters." I have written letters that I don't intend to send as long as I can remember as a coping mechanism. As a child, I wrote letters to God, to my parents, to my teachers. Sometimes, I don't send them because they are for my eyes only, containing my most deeply held secrets. Sometimes, I don't send them because I'm afraid they might hurt the named recipient. Other times, I don't send them because I'm lazy, or because I don't want to buy postage, or because I forget. This series is an ode to the letters I'll never send. See the full series here.


Dear friends and acquaintances,

I want your hearts to stop breaking. I want your partners and your mothers and your grandparents and your friends to stop abusing you, and to stop otherwise mistreating you. I want you to be happy.

I want you to have the courage to leave scary and unsafe situations.

I want you to have the courage to set boundaries to ensure your happiness, and also the courage to stick to those boundaries.

I also want you to not have to have that courage.

I want you to have the strength to care for your self--your physical health, your mental health, your emotional health.

I want to buy you a bottle of wine or a latte or a cup of tea, and I want to hug you and tell you it will all be okay.

I want to actually be able to believe myself when I say that it will all be okay (because it will, but I struggle with having faith in the future as well).

Some of you I know well, and of you I know very little. But I want you to know that, regardless of how well I know you, I am here. Call me. Text me. Message me.

And I want you to know that my heart breaks for you.

And I want you to know that I pray every day that it will get better for you.

With love,
Lindsie