I started writing posts for Dear Future Daughter a little over two months ago through an anonymous blog titled And She Will Recover. At the end of a rough and fast year, I knew if I wanted to heal, I would have to return— as I always have— to writing. I needed to process, build up my community, and for myself and others to know that we were not alone.
As many of you know, I’m introverted and deeply feeling [read: reserved and dark], which generally means that small talk makes me want to throttle people. Since I would hate for someone to meet their untimely end simply for trying to talk to me about the weather, I need to find some ways to communicate with people on a deeper, darker level.
But Dear Future Daughter isn’t meant to be a website filled with pages and pages of my own rants about Shonda Rhimes murdering my best friends and people who irritate me. This is a community and a platform for you. Tell me what it is that turns you into a shaken-up ziploc bag of vinegar and baking soda. Tell me what turns you into a pitiful puddle of raw feel. Tell me what you think about politics, about mental heath, about religion. This is the space to shout it out loud. Carve out a piece of your messy, bloody heart and hand it to me on an aluminum pan, for heaven’s sake! It’s why I’ve made a pitch form here.
I will offer a piece of my messy, bloody, life-giving cardiovascular system up to you. In the past year, I’ve thought a lot about when to share, how to share, where to share, and whether to share it— the strange and twisty stories of my battles with depression and anxiety. My experiments with sharing through art in the safe and healing arenas of spoken word poetry have turned out to feel crazily good. And of course they did. It feels crazily good to be whole and know that your narrative is but one of a nearly-infinity mosaic of some pretty unoriginal stories of human suffering and recovery. Ultimately, I choose whole-ness. It’s my story and it’s real and it’s mine and I won’t let anyone take it away from me with their pity or judgement. I couldn’t be prouder of what I have survived.
Why Dear Future Daughter?
In my darkest moments, I try to keep counting up the reasons why I still need to be here. One of the biggest is “for my future daughter.” When I think of that, it brings me back, almost viscerally, to the happy, simple days of my early childhood when there was no question of whether the world was worth all the pain. Scientifically speaking, if I should have a daughter, she’ll be a whole lot like me. And I’ll get to show her the flowers and turtles and earthworms and ducks and all the things that make the world worth it. I’ll get to show her that my love for her can and will conquer all. This is a love poem for my future daughter, maybe a light for all those who wander in the dark.
I hope you enjoy these pieces of my heart and find them helpful. And yes, now would be the time where you press Like and Follow.