My beautiful and treasured friend in London, when she first became separated from her husband, went to live in a foreign country.
Upon leaving that particular country after some much needed respite and healing, she wrote a thank you letter.
She wrote a thank you letter to her apartment that she lived in during that time.
She said it helped her through her darkest days, and she decided she owed it some loving and gratitude.
I too have now decided to write a thank you letter. To alcohol.
I’m not an alcoholic. Well, I mean, no more than I’m a shopaholic, or a cryaholic.
But I have found the effects of alcohol incredibly healing to me throughout this whole transformation I have been undergoing for the past near 4 months.
So here goes…
You have been my constant companion for quite some time now.
You have helped me to write when my creative juices weren’t flowing as freely as I would have liked.
You have helped me write some awesome shit, and helped to calm my nerves when fear and anxiety have reared their ugly head and become somewhat of a terrorist to my often overthinking, and sometimes tortured mind.
You have assisted in allowing me to drop my guard. Not only just because you do something to my brain and make me feel more relaxed, but because you strip away my insecurities and allow me to be free to be me.
You don’t judge me, or think that I’m a wacko hippy. You already know that I am, and you love and accept me for the free spirit I am, and that I’ve always been, and will always be.
And you’ve helped me love myself for the true gift I really am.
You’ve pulled me out of the depths of momentary despair, and have given me the confidence to recognise everything I have to offer.
Through your intoxicating haze, you have made me see my inner and outer beauty that has always been there, yet for some reason, I have failed to open my eyes to what is.
You have helped me sleep at night, through the affliction of insomnia.
You have helped me have the most excellent dreams which almost always serve as a constant source of inspiration to the mad artist I am.
You have magically, against all odds, stopped the hands of time from turning, and have youthfully preserved me as the eternal Peter Pan that I’ve always been.
That in itself is remarkable, particularly as I am weeks away from my 35th birthday.
If they say you’re only as young as the man that you feel, then I’m potentially a bottle of 1982 Chateau Haut Brion Pessac-Lognan. Which only makes me 32, but hey, who’s counting right?
And you have made me happy.
Reluctantly dragging that sweet, childlike, and jovial nature back out of me, that seemed to lay dormant and untouched for what felt like an eternity.
Helping me to joke again. To have that constant grin plastered on my face like the smiling Buddha.
Because after all, like Mother Teresa says, “peace begins with a smile”. And that’s were I’m at finally.
At a place of peace. Acceptance within myself.
Looking forward, not backwards. Moving forward. Not remaining stagnant.
Opening myself up to all of the opportunities that lay before me.
Embracing, and releasing fear from my core.
And whilst you have me spellbound like an addict of sorts, I know that you have a permanent place in my life, even if it may not necessarily be the best thing for me. Or maybe it’s the best thing that had ever happened.
I do believe you have been my catalyst for the shift that needed to the place.. My muse.
And I’m not letting you get away as easily as you might of hoped. Sometimes I wonder where you have been hiding all my life.
You’re here to stay.
You’re aware I don’t let anyone or anything into my life easily, but you’re a keeper, and unfortunately for you, you’ve become a permanent resident in my world.
So I thank you for gracing me with your presence, and I look forward to learning even more about myself on account of the realisation of you. As it’s brought about the final realisation of me…
Love, Amy xxx.