Letter To Myself - Blog Posts

And their are the cold nights where I miss you a little more, my inside crumbles and the heart cries.

I am sorry I couldn't create a safe place for you.

I am sorry I couldn't be brave enough to let you be you.

I am sorry for all the times I made you say you hate pink (we love it now).

I am sorry for trying too hard sometimes and not trying at all other times.

I am sorry that you had to face all those years alone, without someone to hold you close.

I am sorry for letting you go when I should've held onto you tighter.

I am sorry for thinking that shutting you out will make me feel like I belong somewhere, anywhere.

I am sorry for abandoning you when all you ever had was me.

But now, little one, we are here. You and I, both of us are safe in this space that I have started to call 'heart'.

Cry all you want, I'll hold you. Be fierce, be gentle, be everything that you've wanted to be. I am here and you can be you.

Sweet young child, you're safe in my hands.

And we'll be okay. I love you, and that's all that matters.

To my younger self,

I'm sorry that I couldn't save you. I'm sorry that I didn't stop you from harms. I'm sorry that now you're too broken to be put together

It was never your fault. It was never your fault. It was never your fault. Not your fault. Not your fault. Not your fault. Not your fault

From dear Derya to Derya's heart

I don't write to you anymore, I write to myself. because in this story I was the most tired, the most silent, the most understanding.

All this time I tried to understand you, out of a sense of sisterhood, out of loyalty to the family, out of a debt to the past, but now I realise: understanding doesn't mean I have to forgive.

You have expressed your reality many times. but I tried to swallow my own experiences and feelings.

Each time it stayed in my throat. Even in my dreams it sat in me like raw meat, the taste of which still lingers on my palate.

I don't want that taste anymore.

I no longer try to digest the relationships that hurt me.

I no longer silence myself.

I no longer feel guilty.

And most importantly: I'm on my own side now.

You won't have the last word. Because this is not a court of law. This is my life. And only I decide which door to leave open.

That's enough now.

This letter is not about you, it's about me.

I'm liberating myself.

I'm blessing my fragility.

And finally, I choose to hear my own inner voice.

With love,

Derya