Dear Mom,

Let me start by saying I did write a letter to you this week. I wrote a totally chaotic letter about how stressed I’ve been. I then deleted it and wrote a slightly less chaotic version about stress in general. I then decided, sometime between picking the kids up from school and making dinner for them, that the letter I wrote wasn’t worth posting. I contemplated starting over again. Revising it and cleaning it up to get it to a better place. But then I concluded that I could skip posting my letter to you for one week.

I’ll admit, even typing these words makes my chest feel tight. The possibility of skipping the week terrifies me. Since beginning these letters to you over a year ago, I haven’t skipped one week. I’ve toyed with skipping in the past. I’ve had people tell me to skip if I need to. But even this week, when I’ve clearly run out of gas and am too overwhelmed to think straight, I still felt the need to write to you to let you know I wouldn’t be writing to you.

Hmm. Not sure what that says about me.

Listen, I’m hyperaware that I am hard on myself. I am hip to the fact that I hold myself to an unrealistic standard. But there is something about skipping these letters to you that makes me so afraid. I know it sounds crazy, but I have this fear that skipping one week will cause me to slip into a black hole of complete laziness and I’ll never write again. It’s like skipping an entire week of working out after having a great routine. It’s like going off the diet for weeks. It’s like not calling that friend back so many times that you kind of forget they exist.

Mom? I fear if I skip just one week, I’ll never talk to you again. And that I simply can’t do.

So… I’m writing to you this week to let you know that I couldn’t write to you this week but I’m really writing to tell you that I most certainly won’t be writing to you next week. Like not at all. No letter. No post. Nothing.

Wow. I need to breathe for a second. I just admitted that. I will not be writing to you next week. I know that for sure. I’ll be on an epic family vacation, and I won’t have the time or the energy. I’ll be in another country. On a proper vacation. I will not be writing to you.

Well… maybe…

I will not be posting a letter to you publicly. I will not edit any letters. I will not stick to a deadline. I will not hold myself accountable.

But… perhaps I can actually still write to you. I can journal to you about my experience. I can share all about my magical week in the rainforest. I can keep our dialogue going even if no one else reads it. At the end of the day, that’s all I want. To keep talking to you.

I love you, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon.

Love,

Rachel