Jessica P.

Photography by Jessica Pentel.

 I wrote this letter on September 9, 2019, but never submitted it. I didn’t want to admit that I had not completely healed yet and felt like I would be lying to any readers by submitting this letter. Although it took over a year to send in this letter, I am excited to share it now and I now know that healing is not linear. 

If you’re reading this, you deserve the good moments. 

Growing up, I led a fairly normal childhood. I went to school, I hung out with friends, I played sports, I went home to a loving family. Life was simply filled with so much good. However, high school brought really rough times. I don’t remember studying for the SAT or taking my driver’s test, during my junior year of high school. Yet, I do remember sitting on my bed and getting a call from my camp counselor to tell me that my best friend committed suicide. Five months later, I do remember coming home and having my parents sit me down to tell me that my boyfriend committed suicide. I remember the songs played at their funerals, the tears shared with my counselor, and the nights filled with no sleep. I fell into a very dark hole with no ray of light in sight. 

Survivor’s guilt consumed my every thought, and I fell out of love with everything. I no longer enjoyed going to school, hanging out with friends, playing sports, or being around anybody. Everything I once found joy in became an obligation. These obligations locked me into a downward spiral of indifference and loneliness. I unconsciously forced myself to keep spiraling, through self-sabotage, retreat, and suicidal thoughts. Not only was I scared to love again, but I felt undeserving to love again. 

I don’t mean love in the sense of a soulmate or a life partner, but the kind of love when you take the first sip of coffee in the morning or when you finally land after a long flight. I mean the simple life events that you do not realize you love, but you just do. 

I want to say that there was this huge, grandiose moment in which I snapped out of my downward spiral, but this was not my reality. My reality consisted of reluctantly getting out of bed every morning, constantly being checked in on by my friends and family, and, along the way, truly regaining the smile I once lost. Slowly, I started to love the simple things again. 

Sometimes when we face difficult times, we fall into a dark hole. We feel as if it would just be easier to stay in this hole, we feel as if there is a reason why we got into this hole, and we may just feel too shaken to try to escape this hole. However, I promise the light outside of this dark hole is absolutely beautiful. No matter how we climb out of it or if we slip back into it, this dark hole is not our end. 

Now, I feel an overwhelming amount of love. I love my morning walks on Emmett Street. I love my spontaneous ice cream runs with my roommate. I love my facetimes with my friends from camp. I love my long car rides around Charlottesville. I love these seemingly insignificant good moments, because all of these good moments help me realize how far I have come since my junior year of high school. I am so grateful to have survived the darkest times of my life, so that I can experience the good again. Although it took me awhile, I now realize I deserve these good moments. 

If you’re reading this, you deserve the good moments too.

Jessica P., University of Virginia

 

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