Dear Mom,

Each week when I write these letters to you, I inevitably type numerous sentences that don’t make it to the final draft. The nature of this style of writing, where I pick myself apart, leads to me going on many tangents as I figure out answers to some pretty big questions. And most of those tangents are of equal importance. Some can be crucial to understanding my weaknesses. They can have the ability to lead me to the source of my issues. 

Usually when I have a significant tangent, I copy it and paste it into a new document for later. Because, let’s face it, these letters can’t be ten-thousand words. I’m sure you’d read that many words but, in case you aren’t aware, you’re not the only one reading these.

So, what I’ve been visualizing lately, and what I think I’m getting out of these letters to you is that I’m in a sense disassembling my fabric. It’s like my identity, my being, is a quilt. I’ve undone all the stitching, completely taken it apart. Now I’m left with sections of fabric spread out in no particular order. And I’m taking inventory of what I have. Trying to figure out what’s needed. What could go. And if there is maybe a necessary rearrangement. But most importantly, it’s the threading. It’s as if I need an entirely different thread. An entirely different material. Something stronger to hold the fabric together. 

Beyond the thread, I do think it is important to investigate each section and truly understand why it was there in the first place and how it got so damaged. Because I don’t think it was originally so dysfunctional. I think my quilt was strong and beautiful and put together in the beginning. Somewhere along the way, it got vandalized or harmed or frayed. A thread came undone. It got pulled and snapped and never got put back together again.

In my head I see my squares of fabric as different parts of me. And each of my topics that I’ve written to you about are represented within these sections. 

As I have looked back at my previous letters, I’ve noticed that there is a commonality within these topics. 

I’ve written to you about finding my identity (both sober and overall), second-guessing, taking responsibility for my past mistakes, self-sabotage and imposter syndrome, and vulnerability. When I look at these topics together, and read through the words I wrote, I notice that they are all sharing threads. It’s like a massive Venn diagram. Everything overlaps and meets in the middle at my insecurities. My low self-esteem. 

Or could it possibly be the other way around? Maybe the middle, the overlap, is my confidence. Could it be that a sliver of each insecurity, of each flaw, is in actuality my strength? Within each of my issues is a love for myself. A belief that I can succeed and that I can be loved and that I can be happy. And maybe this entire process is really leading me to make those slivers bigger. Making my strengths more prevalent. More prominent.

When I envision it as a quilt, I see my sections of fabric as the positive and strong aspects of my being. And the thread is my self-doubt and self-sabotage and all those insecurities I hold.

Maybe, it’s not all set in stone.

Let’s say this… my fabric is my strength. Each piece represents my confidence. My self-love. My self-belief. My identity and authenticity. My values. My honesty. My gratitude. 

Then my thread binding it all together represents my insecurities. My doubt. My imposter syndrome. My vulnerabilities. My regrets. My body image issues. 

But… what if that very thread is like a dissolving stitch? Like once I overcome those issues of mine that I am currently working so hard at, once I grow, the thread dissolves and the fabric simply bleeds together as one. As if my insecurities are only temporary.

If I look at it this way, it makes the negative aspects of my identity less daunting. Like I can easily overcome them if they aren’t meant to last. If they don’t have an enduring effect on my fabric. 

I think it’s fitting that dissolvable stitches are also called absorbable stitches. I like the idea of my insecurities being absorbed into my fabric. So that I don’t forget about them. It’s like how I spoke previously about not wanting to move on from my past entirely. That my past self, though she was more damaged, is someone I want to keep within me forever. I must hold on to my insecurities, so I don’t let history keep repeating itself.

And I do think it’s healthy and helpful to acknowledge the impact of negative aspects of our identities. It’s important to remember where we come from, what moments in our lives almost broke us entirely, why we are the way we are. 

So, this is that for me. These letters. This look into my past is me understanding how this happened so I can start the work to piece myself back together again.

And I do feel so confident that this will work. That my journey to growth and strength is inevitable. It will happen for me. But not without some difficult moments of contemplation and heavy introspection.

One big thing I’ve noticed while thinking about the configuration of my quilt is that I seem to have way more thread than fabric. I can think of countless negative aspects of myself to include in my thread and only a handful of positive for my fabric shapes. Isn’t that in itself the problem here? Because I know there is more good to me than the few things I can think of right now. And maybe that’s also my journey. As I uncover my layers of insecurities, I can start to see more clearly the beautiful parts of me that were there all along. Hidden and possibly too damaged to be recognizable, but there. 

My challenge is that with every time I call attention to a problem I have, there is immediately a new issue waiting for me. Like a whack-a-mole of insecurities. So, I end up focusing all of my attention on the issues. Meanwhile, the fabric is just sitting there. Waiting for me to acknowledge it. 

I think this is why I keep coming back to the same idea in my letters. I have now ended a few letters with the feeling that I am ready to move forward only to come back with more questions and more ideas as to why I am this way. It’s like I have the tools to truly understand what I need to do to move on and grow but I won’t let myself because there is still work to be done. 

And it’s very easy to be clouded by the negative and not clearly see the positive. If you were here, I know you’d give me an extensive list of all my strengths. You never struggled to remind me of how wonderful I am. So why is it so difficult for me to see it myself? Why is it so hard to recognize the beauty through the damage? And why is it so incredibly easy to go down a rabbit hole of darkness? It’s as if with each insecurity I acknowledge, it is that much easier to notice the next one. It’s possible that the insecurities naturally connect so it’s almost second nature to jump from one to the next.

I think what I need to do is slow down. With each insecurity I work toward overcoming I need to stop. Think. Take inventory. And maybe even discover the positive aspect of overcoming that particular issue. For example, as my self-doubt dissipates, I can put my energy into reviving my confidence. And truly spend time on walking through life holding my confidence up as fact and not as fantasy. 

Ultimately, I just need to trust the process. The fabric exists. All the beautiful parts of me are there. Laid out and waiting to be connected. And as I overcome each issue that plagues me, the thread will be absorbed, and my strengths will get more vibrant. Just because I turn to the next thread of issues to work on doesn’t mean I’m dampening my fabric. It’s there. It’s full and bold and secure. I’m simply working toward plumping it up. And when it’s all done, and all my threads have been absorbed then it will finally be time to add the decorative layer.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel