In 2020/2021 I wrote a postcard a day to my partner who lived in another city. The pandemic, health conditions, and distance kept us separated. What I didn’t realize was we had different ideas of the status of our relationship. I was in one. He was not. That is a longer story.

Heartbroken and healing I spent 2022 turning my love inward. I decided to write myself a postcard a day. I have finally collected and organized the postcards.

The project had no real rules except:

Allow yourself to miss a day or two or three. Pick up the next postcard whenever you can.
Walk to a new mailbox that is at least twenty minutes away from my apartment.
Write whatever I want to myself.
Do not read until the end of the year. Put in a box.
Buy new pretty stamps for the cards.

The year of self love continues. I don’t know what will become of this project but I do know that I have blossomed in knowing that each moment passes. The good. The bad. The indifferent. Happiness lies inside me if I can get quiet enough to listen. I can’t love others deeply and meet them authentically unless I learn to love and accept myself exactly as I am. I am perfectly, Amy. You are perfectly, you.