Know Who You Are

Dearest Donald,

Oh honey, it's so good to see you! The world is brimming with new possibilities, true, but you'll soon see how connected they are to the dreams you've been having for years. It's been a bumpy road but, honey, that's life. Life: a journey, not a destination. And it's going just the way it's supposed to be going.

Right now, it's easy to be optimistic. I know you like to think of optimism as a particularly predominant trait of your identity versus thinking of it as something to strive towards, but we both know better. I think you'd be better defined by your resilience and your ability to adapt. To survive. Sure, you could put those words in someone else's mouth and you'd be a suck up and a pushover, but you know who you are. Even when you think you don't, you're making decisions about your life and, without minimizing anyone else's space or humanity, you make sure that you're okay. At least that's the goal. You also know what it's like for this constitution - this refusal to be the sacrifice - to facilitate the end of different relationships ... sometimes even friendships. It's okay: you have exactly the people that you need in your life. And you have yourself. And you are enough.

You're in pretty good health, but pretty soon you'll know details. Kinda cute to have your doctor right there at Columbus Circle, isn't it? He's pushing medication right out the box, though, without even having any numbers. Well, it's the beginning of a new relationship, but stick to your guns. You've been in this for a decade now. Let what you know about what you need guide what you'll do.

So, the job is not the utopia that many (including you) think it is. You now have first-hand evidence of this, from the top. And it won't be the last time, either. The bottom line remains: you enjoy what you do and it's paying the bills. You won't let anyone get in the way of that. Sure, that means you won't have a sunny disposition for everyone there, but your ass has known that for months now. Anyone who doesn't want to speak to you, fuck 'em. It's not a figment of your imagination; leave their asses alone. You won't relate to everyone at the lunch table, either ... and it's okay. You are loved and appreciated. You have a job to do.

From The One Who Loves You