Operation Give a Little Day 5: Write a Handwritten Note to Someone. And Send it. [To the girls who saved my life]

goodbye

Some things are easier written than said. “I’m sorry.” “I love you.” “I know what you did last summer.” You know, all that little deep-seated emotional stuff with far-reaching ramifications.

Oh, and “goodbye.”

I have a problem. See, when I left Minnesota, I never said goodbye. First, there was simply no time. With three weeks to sell our house, buy a new one, finish the school year and truck my family and cat hell-bent on getting herself lost across four state lines, I had no time for anything. But the real answer is I simply didn’t want to say goodbye. I couldn’t. I couldn’t deal with my own pain of leaving and I definitely couldn’t deal with all the pain I saw in my friends’ eyes when I told them I was leaving. So I refused to let anyone tell me goodbye. When they tried – and oh they did! – I kept telling them, “I’ll see you later! I will! I promise!” What I didn’t say out loud: “I hope. But maybe not. Life’s like that sometimes.”

I didn’t want to cry and I didn’t want to let them cry. Even up to the very last minute, the day before we actually drove away, I refused to say goodbye. I went to the gym that day. I worked out with the Gym Buddies. We talked as if nothing was different, as if this was any of the other myriad mornings we’d met, checked our kids in to the childcare to bond like the siblings they practically were, sweated a little, laughed a lot. But as we walked out to the parking lot, it was time for a real goodbye. I hugged them all. And I said, fervently, I’ll see you soon. I will. 

It was cowardly. It was understandable and heartbreaking and all I could have done in that moment. But it was still cowardly.

But my friends were braver than I. Before I left, they handed me a book they made me with pictures of so many of our adventures together and – bound up in a little string like a packet of old-timey love letters – a stack of cards and letters from everyone. Here’s my dirty little secret: I looked at the pictures. I didn’t read any of the letters.

At the time I couldn’t. I felt like one more thing would break my heart for real and so I left them all unopened. Reading them would have meant accepting the immense loss goodbye represented and I wasn’t accepting anything. I was still fighting it – the move, the change, the passage of time, the resurgence of skinny jeans and mullet haircuts. Everything. So I told myself that it would be easiest if I faced forward and didn’t look back. I knew I owed them a goodbye but I’ve done other crappy things to them before and they’ve always forgiven me. (Is that the definition of true friendship? That you can trust them to still love you even when you’re treating them like a total jerk? Or did I just turn myself into the Edward to their Bella?? Ack.)

It was time to focus on my new life. Except that I couldn’t. The harder I tried not to think about everyone, the more I did. I started avoiding anything in my new life that would remind me of them – the gym, church, parks, grocery stores, Facebook… And they wouldn’t let themselves be forgotten. They’ve kept e-mailing me and calling. Texting me pictures. Sending me packages. Remember when the mean girls at the gym made fun of my super awkward Zumba-ing? My sweet friends sent me a care package with all my favorite things in it. And I could barely bring myself to open it. I didn’t want to face the flood of emotion when I did. All that sadness stuffed inward and suppressed is, I think, what triggered this latest round of depression.

The tears will out themselves.

This past week, for Operation Give a Little, I decided to take the opportunity to do this item on my list of little acts of service I can do for others: “Write someone a hand-written note.” Sure, e-mail is great and texting is immediate (if spelling challenged) social media is entertaining and Kim and Kanye showed us the eternal value of video but I think all that makes a hand-written note even more precious. It shows you took the time to write something, stick it in an envelope, find a stamp and mail it, yes. But even more so, I think handwriting shows vulnerability. It’s a physical manifestation of your thoughts and there’s an honesty to it. It also makes you vulnerable. You show your mistakes, especially if you write in pen. Tears show up on the paper. Anxiety manifests in bent corners. No emoticon is needed to show happiness if your script is large and loopy. But my favorite part is that it’s something that you held in your hands that they now hold in theirs. (Plus, you’ve got envelope licking which is as good for DNA evidence as it is intimacy!)

At first I thought I would write the letter to my mom and dad. Or perhaps an old high-school friend. But as I sat down and spread out my jumbo pack of stationary (another good reason to write letters!), I realized what I needed to do. I needed to say goodbye. It was time.

I wrote. And I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. I wrote until my hand cramped so badly I literally couldn’t hold the pen anymore. And then I woke up in the morning and kept going. I wrote dozens of letters and filled cards back and front. I’d decided that on one side I’d tell them how much I loved them and what I loved about them and on the other side I’d share one of my favorite memories of them. After I was done, I sat on my bed surrounded by stacks of goodbyes and I finally got out the packet of letters they’d written me. I read them. Laughed. Cried. Smiled. Sobbed. Read them again. Those letters mean everything to me.

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For all of you wondering by this point why on earth this was such a huge deal (and I’ll admit to wondering it myself a few times during the process) it’s because: These girls saved my life. It is no less and no more than that.

When I moved to Minnesota it was on the heels of sending my ex-boyfriend to prison for sexually assaulting me. I’d had a stillborn daughter and then two sons in quick succession. I was eight months pregnant with the third. My husband was out of a job. The only job I had was grading SAT essays which was… well, it was 500 essays on the Scarlet Letter or the Kardashians and not even in an analytical interesting way (because now that I think about it, there is a lot to be said for comparing the two). My husband was deep in the throes of a serious mental illness and my eating disorder was making a raging comeback. And we had no health insurance.

I came there under the weight of a lot of trauma. It took years but the friends I made there slowly helped me unravel all of that. All of you know me as speaking openly about all those issues but at that time in my life I spoke of those things to no one. I could count on one hand the people I’d told about my sexual assault. I hadn’t yet even admitted I’d ever had an eating disorder much less might have one then. I didn’t talk about how hard being a mom was for me or the wracking anxiety that kept me up nights until I vomited or my fear that I’d never be good at anything meaningful or how I can’t stand to listen to people chew or that I think I have a hoarding problem with vintage dresses. This freedom to talk, that helped me heal from so many wounds: They gave that to me.

The debt of gratitude I have for those women is immense. They shared their lives with me, picked me up when I fell down (both literally and metaphorically), cared enough about me to correct me, worried over me, sweated with me, brought me meals, listened and laughed. They cuddled my babies and let me cuddle theirs (and sniff their wee baby heads!). They weren’t just Gym Buddies and Turbo Buddies and Church Buddies – they were true sisters. The girl who arrived in Colorado was sad, yes, but far less broken than the girl who’d showed up in Minnesota. And I have them to thank for that.

I’ve been putting this off for a long time. But it’s time. I’m finally in a place where I can say goodbye – and even that is a gift from my friends as they’ve shown me over the past months that they’ll love me no matter what I do or where I go. And really – how blessed am I to have friends that make saying goodbye so difficult? So.

Dear Friends,

Goodbye. I love you. Everything else is extraneous.

Love forever,

Charlotte

When I think about the power of reading their letters and the healing of writing the letters, I almost wonder if this was the whole point of my Operation Give a Little. To get me to this point where saying goodbye felt okay. One of the hardest parts was worrying that I wouldn’t be able to say what was in my heart, to write something good enough to do justice to how I felt. And you know what? I couldn’t! The letters I wrote are terribly imperfect. Even as I sealed them I knew it wasn’t enough. But sometimes it’s okay to not be enough. I finally realized that saying anything is better than nothing.

At any rate, I know that this post has nothing to do with fitness and really nothing to do with anyone but me and I’m sorry for that. And you’re probably beyond tired of hearing me talk about this stuff. (Again, sorry.) But I hope that you will try this one little act of service with me because I think it can be just as powerful for you. I didn’t know until I actually sat down with paper and pen in hand who I was going to write to but it was worth taking the time and the risk. So, please, write someone (anyone!) a real hand-written note today. Tell them how much you love them. Tell them a favorite memory you have about them. Or just tell them a joke to make them smile. Doesn’t have to be much.

And then mail it or slip it under their pillow or slide it under their door or burn it and watch the ashes float to heaven. Feel the words written on your heart. And if they hurt? It just means you’re alive.

Now I’m curious: what is the most meaningful letter(s) you have ever received? When is the last time you wrote a card and mailed it? (And I don’t mean the mass-printed holiday letter – although those are cool too and I do enjoy reading them!). Anyone else just rotten at goodbyes??

 

 

42 Comments

  1. A big hug to you! I’m happy for you that you’ve been able to do this.

    I myself am not so good at opening my heart to people and tell them in words (written or not) what I usually only let them know with my actions, namely that I love them and what I think of them. It makes me feel vulnerable and it makes those other people feel awkward. I practice by giving little compliments.

    I remember one thing we did with the young people (14 and up) in our church where everybody had a piece of paper with their name on it and these papers circulated and everybody wrote something nice in that paper about that person. I still have mine. It was a nice way to say nice things to people without it being awkward and it was nice to see how the others looked at me. It was very special.

    • I love that church activity you did! We did something similar when I was in charge of the girls’ youth group at my church and it was such a moving experience for all of us! It’s a beautiful reminder that others don’t focus on our flaws as much as we (sometimes) do! Thank you Paula!

  2. When I was in 6th grade at school, my teacher asked every parent to write a letter to their son/daughter telling them why they were loved. I was a pretty insecure child (perfectionist from the beginning) and I was very hard on myself. Reading that letter from my parents was one of the most poignant moments of my early adolescence.

  3. Thank you Charlotte. I’ve been struggling a lot lately about some spiritual and personal matters. I kind of was at a new time low yesterday and then I woke up in the middle of the night with a totally different view point than 12 hours ago and I feel peace. So, I’m going to take your challenge but I’m going to write myself the note. This morning. Selfish? No. I need to take care of my self first so I can be at my best for others later.

    • ((hugs)) Laura. I love those middle-of-the-night epiphanies and I’m so glad it brought you peace! I love the idea of writing it to yourself – I think that can be so powerful!!

  4. My husband and I moved to a new city eleven days ago. I have never liked saying goodbye and usually just avoid it all together. This move was hard because we had multiple moving away/saying goodbye gatherings. Some with the same people twice. I’d rather just disappear. I noticed that when my second son was young, he would disappear when it came time to say goodbye to visitors. That was his way of handling goodbyes–don’t say goodbye. At twenty-six, he still prefers to do the same thing. Not a bad way to handle it.

  5. Charlotte, thank you for writing this. I have wondered since you left Minnesota if you had really confronted the life you left behind. Perhaps that sounds weird, as an observer from afar, but I really got the sense through your blog that these ladies were sisters and true friends – which are immensely difficult to find and even more difficult to leave behind. I am glad you took the time to write them letters, and I hope it brings you a modicum of closure.

  6. Wow, that was powerful. What a gift to have such special friends and what heartbreak to have to leave them. I know theoretically it might less painful to on the “gift” part and not the “heartbreak” part but, first, you have to really face the heartbreak part. If it were me I’d be struggling big time.

    Sounds like you needed the time to be in the right place to read the letters and write back and say goodbye, don’t be hard on yourself for taking that time!

    And please don’t apologize for blogging about profound aspects of life instead of the endless quest for instant weight loss or sculpted abs etc that the fitness magazines shove down our throats! We love your insight and honesty.

  7. Before I was 19 years old I had already lived in 8 different states so you’d think I’d be use to goodbyes. But they are still remarkably hard for me. My best friend who I met in college lived in Lebanon for a few years after college, and now is married and living in England. I see her in person once a year and I break down every time I have to say goodbye. We are talking some seriously ugly weeping here! I’m terrified that we’ll grow apart. But then I remember another long distance friendship of mine. I met Natalie at the start of high school when we were both new kids in town. After sophomore year I moved a thousand miles away and we promised to keep in touch. This was all pre-social media and when long distance calls cost extra money on the landline! We wrote letters back and forth, called occasionally, and literally the first time I saw her again was when I was a bridesmaid in her wedding 7 years later. We can stalk each others lives much easier now with social media, but every so often we will still surprise each other with a hand written note. Best feeling in the world. Technology is fantastic and makes it so much easier to keep in touch with people, but I agree that there is something so special in the extra steps of a hand written letter.

    • This whole story just makes me grin and grin! I’m so glad that you and Natalie found each other and still find ways to connect!

  8. I love handwritten notes, and find it much easier to express myself in writing than in person. I think it’s the whole note wanting to cry or get overly emotional in front of people thing – a piece of paper won’t judge if you get choked up over something seemingly stupid and small! I try to write handwritten notes as often as possible, but seeing as I very rarely get them myself, I think my friends might find it awkward when I do, so I try not to be overly ambitious about it.

    You are very lucky to have such a great group of friends – it’s something that I think many women wish for but that some of us are still hoping to find some day.

    • Good point about notes allowing you to have more control over your emotional display – that is probably why I like the written word so much too!! And yes, I am very blessed with these ladies. I wish every woman could have that kind of connection – I’ve often thought that we need “new mom” groups for women (children or no) at all ages and stages of life.

  9. I used to write letters, then gave up the habit (as did so many people) and embraced the internet. Recently I found a stash of notecards and I decided to use them. Mainly I write my great aunt – just little notes, but I know she appreciates them. I agree, there is still value in the handwritten word.

  10. I too am awkward with good-byes. It feels strange, especially when you know you probably won’t ever see those people again. I do a lot of musicals, which makes me spend time with a lot of really cool people who I normally wouldn’t hang out with. Not because I don’t like them, but because our lives are so different. So when a show comes to an end, in my mind I know I will probably never be close with them again, but I never say goodbye.

    • I always thought theater would be the best job ever! But you point out a very poignant part of it – especially because you spend so much time together, casts and crews can bond really quickly:) That said, I’m still a little jealous!

  11. Well, this post IS about fitness; mental and emotional fitness, which is so important and often so neglected.
    What a blessing your gym buddies are!
    When my dad passed away and I went back east for his memorial, so many friends I’d been out of touch with for years showed up. And we picked up right where we left off, as if no time at all had passed. Just knowing they are there, even if they’re 3,000 miles away, is a huge comfort.
    I LOVE letters and cards and notes! There is something so very special about them, and I still have some from years back. Every once in a while I will write to someone I’ve been thinking about, someone who has had an impact on my life and probably doesn’t know it. But they should know. And every once in a while I’ll hear back from them, telling me that the letter made a difference. We hear so much of the bad that happens, it’s important to hear the good.
    And sometimes it takes a while to write that letter, and that’s OK.

    • Thank you Alyssa – you are so kind:) I love that you do those little notes on a regular basis! I really need to make this an ongoing thing!

  12. Charlotte,
    You touch so many people. I enjoy reading your workout stories (obviously) but I think I find the intermittent personal ones mean so much more and make the others mean more to me because of that. I have also struggled with an eating disorder and continue to do so. I have lost a lot of ‘friends’ because of it as well. Goodbyes suck but you’re right, if they’re the right friends, it doesn’t have to be goodbye.
    My favorite/most cherished handwritten notes have been the ones I’ve received in the hospital or just encouragement when desperately needed from those people that care deeply no matter what.

    Thanks so much for your open-ness.

    • Thank you Amanda – this comment means so much to me today! ((hugs)) to you – especially with your continued fight for recovery and wellness!

  13. Dearest Charlotte~
    Thank you for this post. I’m guessing you did not have this intention when you wrote it, but I realized reading it that I need to write a letter to Marisa, who I have never truly said goodbye to. It’s just so hard. I talk about her all the time and think about her all the time, but I have never said goodbye. I really don’t want to, but, like your situation, it is something I need to do and I know it will help even as it hurts. I miss you friend and want you to know that you are still a part of my life and having a deep impact even across the many miles.
    Hugs,
    Trista

    • This. This is why I keep writing. Thank you so much for sharing this with me Trista! Bless you and your big heart. I know Marisa is reading your letter in heaven and loving you just as much as ever:) I wish I could be there to give you a hug in person!

  14. When I got married 6 months ago I wrote thank you/I love you letters to my parents, my brother, and my 4 best friends who were my bridesmaids. There was something really, really special about it. I loved doing it. I definitely think you’re right, writing letters can have a healing power.

    I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time with this move 🙁 When we moved across the country a couple years ago I felt broken for a long time. It does get easier though, someday. I know you’ve moved a lot but some moves are just harder than others. The out of state move we did this years was rough but nothing comparable to the last one.

    • That is brilliant! And what a sweet gift to your family. You hear so many stories about “Bridezillas” forgetting about all the people who helped them get where they are. I bet those letters meant a lot to your loved ones!

  15. Thank you for writing this post, Charlotte. For some reason the following paragraph touched me the most:

    I didn’t talk about how hard being a mom was for me or the wracking anxiety that kept me up nights until I vomited or my fear that I’d never be good at anything meaningful or how I can’t stand to listen to people chew or that I think I have a hoarding problem with vintage dresses. This freedom to talk, that helped me heal from so many wounds: They gave that to me.

    I wish I had the kinds of friends you had and had the courage to take the skeletons out of my own closet.

  16. Thank you for this extremely honest and poignant post! handwritten means so much and it is something I always say that I am going to do better at – maybe 2014 will finally be the year that I actually do mail birthday cards out instead of just posting hbd on facebook.

    there is one handwritten letter that I hold especially dear. I lived with my mom and my dad was a bit of a rolling stone but he was always good about keeping in touch and sending “letters” – although his letters were usually newspaper or magazine clippings with a short ‘made me think of you’ blurb written on the top. I mentioned that I wished he would just write me an actual letter for once instead of just sending clippings to my mom and a few weeks later I got a beautiful blank card that he then wrote in huge letters on the inside cover ‘I Love You’ and proceeded to write a full letter to me. It was perfect. I am forever grateful that I spoke up because he ended up passing away within a year of sending that letter.

    • Aw I love this story Hannah! I’m so glad that you and your dad got to connect that way before he died. What a beautiful sentiment:)

  17. This is really sweet! I hate goodbyes too, my signature line is “well, this is excuse for me to visit you”.

    It’s really hard to visit and it’s never enough, and things will never be the same, but it’s difficult to face that at the time.

  18. Goodbyes for me have been the permanent kind lately. That part I do not like. But what I came to appreciate was how my brother said goodbye just a few short months ago. He told one sister that he’d be waiting on the grassy knoll for her to come and watch the clouds. He told his best friend that he’d meet him at the old tree-fort and to be sure to bring his chess game with him. He told me he hated goodbyes and the sadness in other people’s eyes. So, he came up with a way of saying goodbye that allowed people to smile through their grief. As for letters – LOVE them. My favorite? Although, it was a card. A birthday card with 30 Susan B. Anthony dollars taped to it. My mom did that for me and it just tickled me! I still have them too. Still taped in the card. haha!

    • Sorry that you had to go through that. I can’t begin to imagine how tough that has to still be. It sounds like your brother was a remarkable man with a huge heart!

    • All the tears right now Sara! I’m so sorry for the loss of your brother. I love his way of saying good-bye – it sounds beautiful and perfect:)

  19. I found your apology for not writing about fitness interesting. The older I get the more I realize how fluid life is–at different times in our lives we can focus on different things. Of course those needs change as we grow and evolve. I think that’s how we become more well-rounded. I hope you embrace what fills your cup at this challenging time–it sounds like your letters did just that!

  20. My whole life, I always did the moving. It wasn’t until you moved away that I realized how awful it is to be part of the group left behind, too.
    I love that Facebook and texting, etc, has kept us close, but I hate that the closeness makes it seem like we’re right down the road from each other again–because it hurts so much to remember the truth. I miss you lots and I hate all the time we didn’t get to spend together before you left.
    Dear Charlotte,

    Goodbye. I love you. Everything else is extraneous.

    Love forever,

    ~M~

  21. Love you, Charlotte. I’m in tears at my desk. WE LOVE YOU! AND MISS YOU ALWAYS!!

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