My Second Very Real Letter to You This Advent

I was driving the other day. I love long stretches of road where my mind is forced to slow. Where the images that blur past are a reflection of my thoughts melting, one into another, until I am underneath all the veneer. All the smile that I put on for everyone because it’s a lot of work to share the crap. The real crap. Then, I remembered that I felt like this last year. I said things like this last year. Will this become a thing? Oh, I hope not.

This month I’ve had my fair share of hits. So, this letter goes out to all of you who have thrown a punch in my general direction. You didn’t make contact, I can bob and weave like the best of them, but the stale air behind those missed punches, well, they linger and leave me with the question:

Sometimes a letter than encompasses your feelings is the best route. Here's mine, and it's addressed to, well, I'll never tell.  By @fillpraycloset

Dear _________________,

I don’t know you. I don’t know why you hide behind the pretentious corset of “cooler than thou” or smarter than the “average bear”. I don’t know why you say what you say, or why you say it. I don’t know why you think the way I do anything is wrong, or needs to be improved. Least of all, I don’t know why you feel it’s ok to put me down.

Why? Because you don’t really know me either. You don’t know that my flaws are my greatest strengths. You don’t know that I love to cheer and get behind whatever it is you’re most passionate about and ask for nothing in return. You don’t know that I am brave. Brave enough to try anything and everything whether it be writing, or converting to a faith I knew little about. You don’t know that I consider fails to be wins, vulnerability to be beautiful and you certainly don’t know that I know, that you, you are a sad child yourself.

I freeze up when the insults come, not because I am afraid, but because I am trying to understand you. Because the insults makes no sense. I am shifting quickly to a place of trying to help you get past the pain you tried to inflict upon me, that is merely a broken reflection of you.

Unfortunately, I can’t be your fixer. I can’t be your worry-stone, your means to make yourself feel better about the cruelty you dish out. I can’t be the one you call upon when your ego needs a boost, or when you need that final push, and I certainly won’t be your whipping girl. Here’s what I can do, I can walk away and leave you to play with your toys while I chase my dreams. My dreams are like butterflies. Sure, they kiss flowers and they’re hard to catch, but they are beautiful, they are mine, and they are more real than any “real” you try to conjure up. Most importantly, they can fly away from you.

So the answer to my question is, I don’t really care who you are, because you don’t really care to know who I am either.

Peace out,



15 thoughts on “My Second Very Real Letter to You This Advent

  1. It makes me sad that you had cause to write this, Salty 😦 I’m glad that you have such an even head about it, and that you’re able to say these things with what sounds like conviction. I hope you’re able to feel them as well as say them. Good for you.

    And as for anyone who insults you…*bares teeth and raises hackles*


  2. I so appreciate the candor of this post, Cristina. It speaks a little to my topic this coming Sunday, but sort of in reverse — I wanted to fit in with some people I had put in a high, high pedestal and it didn’t work out like I planned (of course it worked out like God planned so there’s that!), Thank you for touching something within my heart. ❤


    1. I’m so glad. Sometimes, the best way to deal with tough stuff is to write a letter to the person/s. In this case, I was public, sort of, to keep me accountable to the feelings.


  3. This gave me all the feels and brought me to tears. Methinks you hit close to home. I need to do a copy/paste on this and send it to — wait — no. No. Not send it to anyone. You wrote it for yourself, right? To remember who YOU are, and to tell yourself sternly to shake it off. So the copy/paste/send would be to ME. Not to people who hurt me. To ME, as a reminder that those who hurt others should be pitied, and that they have a story, too, and that my story is mine to live, and that I can choose to be happy, in spite of — or even BECAUSE of — hardships.

    I don’t know if I’ve told you this before: I’m not a believer. But YOU. You make me feel the possibility of a higher power. Your words make me believe, at the very least, in the goodness of humanity. So, thank you for that. And merry Christmas. Because whether or not God exists, WE exist, and for just a moment, when I read your words, I’m glad to know I live in a world where hearts can be touched by something {or someone}. You have touched mine.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I thought long and hard about how to respond to your comment. It made me feel so good. I read it a few times over break to remind me of why I write, why I love and care. This comment was one of my favorite Christmas presents, so thank you. I knew you weren’t a believer, never part of my equation. I love your blog, and you especially on FB! Thank you for being unabashedly you – I love it. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

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