A letter from Feb 27, 2025

Dear FutureMe, In 8 days' time it is your 1 year anniversary with your girlfriend. You're going away to the countryside for a weekend where you can put your feet in grass and stare at her as your lungs expand. She really is so beautiful. The love you feel for her is fledgling, so new it makes you nervous, like you can't believe your luck, yet so familiar it feels anciently rooted. It's been an intense year, and so many of your life's foundations have toppled over. But the sun was out today, a glimmer of spring, and you are proud of yourself for the PhD work you've done this week. It was a close friend's 30th. There's happiness, too. My hope is that this time next year, you'll be looking forward to your next anniversary with her. Maybe by now you'll have submitted your PhD, too. Perhaps not, to both of those things. You are - or, I am - relearning now, to treat myself with more kindness, to question the root of some of those expectations you have for yourself. I hope that next year this learning will have continued, that you'll have been so, so good to yourself. Your little dog is snoozing in your flatmates' room. You've just fed her. You're new to Substack, reading posts from crip writers that inspire you. Your fibromyalgia pain burns, RSI from thesis deadlines clutch at your elbows and wrists. You've probably got a lil post-exertional malaise and have done a *lot* of disability admin today. It's really tiring and sometimes you still can't believe how heavy fatigue feels as it coagulates around your knees, your ankles, turning you to stone. But things are good, too. Your house is warm - so warm. Your girlfriend popped in for a lil coffee, you got to bury your face in her neck and huff like a mad woman. The sun (I know I already mentioned but this winter has been long af). You've reoriented yourself, reoriented your priorities. Took your recovery seriously. Took yourself seriously. So next weekend, you're heading off on a jaunty little lesbian trip in your little lesbian car. Enjoy it, each moment. By the time you receive this email your hair colour will probably be the same, your skin texture too, but things will have shifted, moved, even if you *feel* like they haven't. I can promise you, they have. Each day at a time, babe! x