Send a Raven: Newsletter #5
The season of change: an open letter from a scorned lover
I’m going to say something that may be controversial… But even as an October baby, I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with fall.
Which is hard as a slave-to-the-aesthetic, lover-of-all-things-dark-and-spooky Libra, but after countless years of premature Canadian winter, 4pm sunsets, and the chilling wind pulling decades of trauma stored in my bones, how could I not?
Every year it starts the same… I’m excited for the cooler weather, the warmer colours, but after a few weeks of pumpkin spiced indulgence, the seasonal depression seems to hit me all at once, and knowing that the light at the end of the tunnel is a cold and dark 6-7 months away, I become the stagnant opposite of the rapidly changing seasons.
As you know from my last couple newsletters, this summer has been a rough one for me: a sequence of unexpected financial blows, past traumas resurfacing, and the looming fear that I’m not capable of being productive enough to achieve the goals I’ve set for myself.
Immediately following my last update, I learned that I did not place in the writing contest that I’d felt so good about, and I’m not going to lie, it stung… But it was a wound that healed surprisingly fast, and without the aid of false consolations or the indulgence of negative impulses. The winning submissions were great, and I can see why they won, and for the first time that didn’t make me feel like I would always lose.
So I swallowed the pill of acceptance and told myself that we were moving past it, and the idea of moving past it came much easier knowing that I was 36 hours away from the roadtrip I’d been anticipating all year, and even moreso after the lack of satisfaction I felt from my other adventures this summer. Everything was gearing up perfectly: I’d finalized the itinerary, packed weeks in advance, and DIY-ed the pre-vacation beauty procedures that usually would’ve cost me $400. For the first time leading up to a big trip, I had excitement that wasn’t disguised as stress.
Then, just hours into the first day of our two-week long journey, I crashed my car (minor damage, stationary object). My immediate feeling was denial that I’d done anything wrong, then it quickly turned to panic that I’d potentially just bombed my little sister’s birthday trip (especially since out roadtrip last year was soured by a faulty fuel pump that landed us vehicle-less on the first day). But after assessing the damage and realizing it was strictly cosmetic, the feeling I found myself with most was shame.
On any trip, I’ve learned that something always has to go wrong, and in learning that, I’ve learned to be grateful for the fact that it could always be worse. It was easy to tell myself that if something this trip had to go wrong, I was glad it was this. If I had to get into an accident, I was glad it was one where nobody was hurt, and the vehicle was driveable. But what wasn’t easy was accepting the embarrassment that came with a simple miscalculation made during a split second decision.
As the first born child, niece, and grandchild of my family, I’ve always felt an immense amount of pressure, but not in the way you may think, because the pressure in my family isn’t to make them proud, or to get a degree, or have a high paying job. It’s to keep everything together: make the right decisions to keep everybody safe and happy, because until I came along, nobody had been able to do that.
So I pushed the guilt and embarrassment down and went about the trip according to plan, and I’ve never been more proud of myself. I’ve learned a lot of tough lessons these last few years: you have to open up in order to receive, if you know you deserve something you need to learn how to ask for it, the list goes on. But what this taught me (aside from some serious self-soothing) is that I’m allowed to make mistakes. I don’t need to feel guilty, or ashamed, or embarrassed. I’m an imperfect human being, not a perfectly programmed machine; I’m a person, not a role.
Within hours of the accident, I noticed the number 333 popping up here and there, and before long it was prominent enough for my sister to notice unprompted: addresses, room numbers, wifi passwords, license plates, etc. So I decided to take it as a sign that I was handling myself the right way, and that soon it would all make sense…
The rest of our trip went off without a hitch (aside from some minor driving anxiety) and succeeded in giving me what I so badly needed all summer: to be taken out of my head and forced to live in the moment (and enjoy it).
Upon arriving home from the very first trip I worried I wouldn’t make it back from (I always worry about that… But this time it felt warranted), I found myself overcome by an odd feeling. It wasn’t the usual rush of manic motivation I have to return to real life after a trip, but it wasn’t a stillness I could classify as dread, either. If I had to give it a name, I think I’d classify it as awareness; awareness of just how much potential I hold, but how circumstantially complacent I become.
So I made a haphazard goal to work on it, as I do after every trip before inevitably falling back into my bad habits. But something feels different this time, because the goals I’ve made are based on the habits I have, not the habits I want. And accepting the habits I have has led me to obtaining an ADHD diagnosis. I’m sure none of you are surprised about that after reading literally any of my previous newsletters, and I don’t know if I can say that I am either, but the imposter syndrome and trauma I have surrounding mental health/drugs has stopped me from seeking the help that I need in order to get where I want to be.
My doctor prescribed me a mild stimulant and honestly… It’s fucking amazing, but in a completely different way than I’d let the stigma surrounding medication convince me it would be. I still feel like me, I just feel like me on a productive day; at my fullest potential. The transition between writing mode, and real life mode has been made nearly seamless, and that feels worlds better than the minuscule satisfaction that my superiority complex was getting out of raw-dogging life.
Now… Remember what I’ve been saying about trusting in the universe? Well, within a week of getting home I managed to find a body shop to repair my car for less than my insurance deductible would’ve been, sell it, and buy the truck of my dreams.
Originally, I’d gone to take a peek at an older vehicle and the salesman showed me this on a fluke. I couldn’t believe my eyes: all of the aftermarket features I would’ve added, the colour, the secondhand smoke from the previous owner, AND THE FUCKING REAPER PACKAGE!!??!?! It was an instant sell and hours later I was driving it off the lot. I found out after that the reaper package (that I didn’t even know existed) is exclusive to this dealership, and I wouldn’t have found it anywhere else in the world. How is that NOT meant to be?
Admittedly, I’m still processing the way that this literally fell into my lap after spending the last 5 years on my vision board, but it only further confirms how important it is to trust that everything will work out in your favor, and to continue manifesting your dreams.
At the beginning of the summer, a friend had said to me: “Sierra, I’m hearing about everything you’re doing, but it’s all for everybody else. What are you doing for yourself?”
I was so taken aback by the question because as a single, childless 25 year old, I feel like the lifestyle I live is for nobody but myself. But after this summer, I’ve learned that sometimes the things we want are disguised as the things we need, and the things we need aren’t always easy to want.
I thought this summer was pointless, boring, and unfulfilling, but what I didn’t know was that it was teaching me how to accept the fulfillment that was waiting for me; I needed to feel so low in order to feel so high, I needed to learn to put my needs before my wants, I needed to prove that I was ready for what was next for me. That is what I’m doing for myself.
As far as ARAC goes, I expect it to be on Goodreads within days. I’m currently sitting on request page #7, and I started on page #600, which is perfectly on par with the wealth of change I’ve experienced, and expect to continue experiencing as the days get colder. But it’s a change that, thanks to the last few weeks, I now feel comfortable embracing, and maybe even learning to look forward to.
I’m so happy for you to get to the point of acceptance 🩷🩷!!! You’ve come a long way from when we first met, and I can see so many wonderful changes in you 🥰!! I can’t wait for ARAC to be on Goodreads 💗💗!!!!
Lahko noč!!!!!!! 🩷 🐦⬛