In One Year and Out The Other
I woke up this morning, which I typically do everyday (though sometimes I wake up every afternoon haha). Anyway, upon waking, I typically turn over my phone and check the screen for relevant notifications before making my way through the rest of my morning routine. This particular morning, one notification stopped me: I'd received an email from futureme.com. For those of you who don't know, this site is a platform through which you can write emails to yourself and ask the site to send them to you at designated future times.
In this case, my letter was written from myself last year, just before I moved to NC and started graduate school. I was still working at HEDC in Houston (and I was technically using my work computer to type the email, hush hush).
The first part of the email starts with this:
The next paragraph of the email opens with the line, "I want you to remember how much you love Houston." This phrase struck me because I've often questioned my love of Houston lately. Not externally of course. On the outside I chant "I love Houston, I miss Houston" to the ends of the earth. It's like part of my name! "Hi, I'm Rachel, and I love Houston and miss it dearly." On the outside, my attachment to Houston was clear. On the inside, though, I was starting to question if it was really as good as I made it out to be? Was I really that much in love with it? I mean, I called it "my city" but did I really have this kind of life-giving community that I keep looking for here and not finding? Maybe it didn't exist in Houston either and I'm being delusional? I spent much headspace entertaining these doubts about my experiences in Houston and the community I experienced there. This email reminded me that the community and love and support I remember in Houston IS REAL and is real TO THE EXTENT OF MY EXAGGERATION. I wasn't exaggerating, I was speaking the truth.
Not only does this next paragraph mentioned my love of Houston, it also implores me to pass it forward, reminding me that I may be the only person in my friend group who understands what true hospitality and community looks like and feels like. This is a charge I have failed at since moving here, but my fervor is renewed with these words:
In this case, my letter was written from myself last year, just before I moved to NC and started graduate school. I was still working at HEDC in Houston (and I was technically using my work computer to type the email, hush hush).
The first part of the email starts with this:
Dear FutureMe,
Hi. :) You're sitting at your desk right now at HEDC. You've been working as a recovery coach for the past 15 months. You go to Sojourn Montrose, which you love. You're a member of EaMo parish, which you also love.Immediately following this, I start talking about my then-present (now past) stress at work. I will withhold the details for posterity's sake, but reading my thoughts reminded me that work can set the tone for your entire life sometimes because you spend the majority of your waking hours there! My past-self put it this way:
Remember, a job is like a marriage. It's a delicate yet rewarding relationship that takes 100% effort and forgiveness on BOTH sides. You are only responsible for your side. Give 100% without regret.That little tidbit is becoming increasingly near and dear to me as I find myself in various professional workplaces. It's growing on me, so to speak; especially when I see the people I care about working in life-draining positions that provide them paychecks for the small price of selling their soul. At the same time that you know it's not worth it to stay, you start obsessively thinking about networking possibilities, setting yourself up for a good future, providing for your family and yourself, and minimizing all the rotten parts of your job. It's kind of like when there's a strong scent in your house, but your nose eventually gets tired of acknowledging it so you "get used to it" and don't realize it's pungency until a guest comes into your house and nearly keels over at the fumes. Anyway, there's no such thing as a perfect job (hence the marriage analogy in the first part of my past-me's advice). I continually apply that sentiment to my career, achievements, and pursuits. I can only be responsible for my 100%.
At the same time, if you don't feel appreciated at your work place and if you don't enjoy what you do, RUN (don't walk) for the exit. Being jobless for a year is worth it if it brings you to a job you'll love for life.
The next paragraph of the email opens with the line, "I want you to remember how much you love Houston." This phrase struck me because I've often questioned my love of Houston lately. Not externally of course. On the outside I chant "I love Houston, I miss Houston" to the ends of the earth. It's like part of my name! "Hi, I'm Rachel, and I love Houston and miss it dearly." On the outside, my attachment to Houston was clear. On the inside, though, I was starting to question if it was really as good as I made it out to be? Was I really that much in love with it? I mean, I called it "my city" but did I really have this kind of life-giving community that I keep looking for here and not finding? Maybe it didn't exist in Houston either and I'm being delusional? I spent much headspace entertaining these doubts about my experiences in Houston and the community I experienced there. This email reminded me that the community and love and support I remember in Houston IS REAL and is real TO THE EXTENT OF MY EXAGGERATION. I wasn't exaggerating, I was speaking the truth.
Not only does this next paragraph mentioned my love of Houston, it also implores me to pass it forward, reminding me that I may be the only person in my friend group who understands what true hospitality and community looks like and feels like. This is a charge I have failed at since moving here, but my fervor is renewed with these words:
I want you to remember how much you love Houston. Ok, maybe not the humidity... but in general you love this city. You've been so involved in the community here! Sojourn has been so welcoming to and supportive of you. You forget how rare hospitality is until you genuinely experience it. You've been experiencing it for the past 6 months, so savor it. AND pass it forward because you may be the only one in your friend group who truly understands what it means to be welcoming and supportive. Intentionally seek out those "long term low key" relationships and show by example how to be a good friend. If you do that, intimacy will follow. I promise.The email ends with a nurturing, motherly tone, as I instruct myself to take heart and take courage. I remind myself of the things I do well and the things that I'm working toward. I comfort my fears and I tell myself that everything is going to turn out for the best. I remind myself that fear is normal because leaving is hard, saying goodbye is difficult, grief is real. I also remind myself that it's in the sadness and goodbyes that you recognize what blessings you've had in your life all along, and some of them are portable! Here's the closing portion of my pep talk to myself:
I want to remind you that you have to act how you want to become before you become it. You don't automatically become confident, generous, caring, or compassionate. These are virtues that take time and practice. Don't whittle away at them with your nagging self-deprecation and judgment. Instead, act confident. Act selfless. Act happy. In time, you will be these things and more.So, I'd say this has been a great start to a Saturday morning!
People here have told you that you mean the world to them and that you've been a pivotal part in their growth and positive change. Take them at their word and accept their gratitude. Let it sink in. Believe it.
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