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by DM
Rated: E · Letter/Memo · Experience · #2310794
It might be a bit messy, but Merry Christmas! Also, TW: SA mentions
Dear Me,

Welp, uh...I've never written a letter(or at least post a letter before, I've sent letters to people I've been in a relationship with in the past though. Anyway, not the topic). So....

I'm someone who loves writing and stories because it is an escape. Moreover, it is fun. It is one of my love languages when I am in a relationship. When I am heartbroken, it helps me cope and I've gone through so many heartbreaks. My recent heartbreak was probably my last romantic relationship and my grandma dying. The purpose of this letter is to list down all the things I can share about myself and I am writing this letter for me this Christmas(also for my healing journey).

To start, I grew up in a very dysfunctional family. As cliche as it sounds, I don't have a father (ta-da) and my mother was irresponsible. I grew up with my grandma. The reason why I do not feel so dysfunctional despite not having the ideal family that society wants or shows. Point is, I love her very much. Still not over her death because she was my strength, and I don't know if I will ever be over it but I am comfortable with that thought. I feel okay grieving for her even if it hurts a lot. That way, I am reminded that I am someone who still needs other people for comfort.

Second, besides the obvious childhood trauma I mentioned at the first sharing. I am someone who has problems with believing and trusting people that I am attracted to because I genuinely think that I am emotionally high maintenance and my life feels like it is so complicated for someone because I've been betrayed and disrespected a tons of times. I have been aware for so long that being in a relationship with me--romantically--might require a lot of patience. For the record, I am not downplaying myself. I know that this mindset is not good for me, but I am doing everything to accept that part and let myself love again.

Maybe, for a little background, I want to share this story.

I grew up sexually abused and seeing my mom having so terrible patterns with her relationships, I also acquired a pattern of falling for people that is not good for me. My first boyfriend was sexually, emotionally and mentally abusive because he was a porn addict, emotionally manipulative and controlling. I stayed with him for more than a year and finally got myself removed from him because I was hitting my last point. However, truth is, I can never hate him. Maybe because he's one of the people who knew me deeply. I took counselling for my childhood sexual abuse after breaking up with him, but I've never said to my counsellor that I relapsed because of him. After that, I tried to enter relationships again(I am a hopeless romantic. At least before I was the definition of Charlotte York). It always failed. Still had a habit of falling for guys I am not compatible with, after all. I know that this might be happening because I still had a lot of traumas and I am still hurting from a lot of things---my family, my sexual abusers, my relationship with myself, my romantic relationships and missing my grandma.

On the brighter side, I have a lot of good friends. Despite those failed and hurtful relationships, I am blessed to have such a wonderful and healthy relationship with my friends and of course, having my definition of a perfect grandmother. She may be the reason why I am still hoping for that genuine love without any hidden intentions. She gave that to us. She gave me that kind of love.

In the present, I am still navigating through life. I am still healing from the things that hurt me. I am still healing from the bad decisions I've made. I am still learning how to truly and fully love myself. For this Christmas, perhaps, I want to say that I am still grateful for the life I have and I am so proud that I still believe in love even though it's not as strong as before. But the point is, Christmas is about love. Even though I still have some doubts, I think I can still consider myself romantic.


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