A raw love letter: from me, to me

Happy Valentine’s Day to meeeeee! 
(and to you.)  Some of you will be receiving heartfelt words of love and appreciation tomorrow, as well as chocolate and poetry or, if you’re lucky, jewelry. Some of you, like me, will be receiving… well, nothing, except what we give ourselves.  That’s okay though– because we can be awesome lovers to ourselves.  No, seriously.  Like blow-your-mind good.  In every sense.Whichever camp you fall into, try this with me.For Valentine’s Day, I want you to write a love letter.  To yourself. 

And since I won’t ask you to do anything I won’t do myself, here’s my own letter… to moi.

Happy V-day, love bugs!

Dear Self, 

Man, girl, I really love you.  Here we are, coming up on 40 and as single as it is possible to be.

You have bulges around your middle that I never, EVER thought would happen.  Your teeth are problematic and there is a disconcerting sagginess under your chin.  Also, we both know that a lot of the time your hair looks like total ass because you are too lazy to deal with it… and what Portland has done to your wardrobe is a crying shame.

But honey?  You are absolutely gorgeous to me.

Not just in a “well your personality is so nice” kind of way.  No, in a hot-mama-get-in-my-bed kind of way.  (Lucky we already share a bed, you and me.)  Seriously.  There is a sparkle in your eyes that makes me swoon.  There is an authority to your stance sometimes, when you are about to take somebody DOWN for some bullshit, that is sexy as hell.  And there is a radiance in your eyes that I have been waiting decades (maybe lifetimes) to see.

You are my soulmate.  You are the love of my life.  And I love those red flames in your hair.

I feel so safe with you.  You take such good care of me.

For starters, you are so smart and practical!  WTF, this year you learned to BUDGET!?!?! What is next, neurosurgery???  I mean even as your biggest fan, I must confess that this one was a total surprise.  I feel sheepish telling you this, but I have to admit that I didn’t really think you could make it stick.  But dammit YOU DID.  And it’s totally shifted both the way we feel about our money and also the strength of our financial foundation.  I couldn’t be more proud.

And yet, you are so crazy magical!  I’m pretty sure we are just a few months away from Actual Levitation.  I mean, yes, so far all we can do is bend spoons and feel other peoples’ feelings and get a pretty reliable sense of how to help them, but probably guessing the lottery numbers is not far off.  You have gathered these wonderful benevolent guardians around you, and you always consult with your spiritual Board of Directors now, and as a result you make such good decisions!  You know your truth, and you follow it.  You make room for all your feelings; you just open up like a cathedral and let them move through you.  It’s so beautiful inside us these days, no more contorting and twisting and hiding things.  And when you screw up, you don’t waste time beating yourself up, you just send it down into the earth to compost and move on.  This is one of my favorite things about you.

But also, sugarpie, this beautiful loyal fantastic body.  Swoon.  It can do so many useful things and make such beauty in the world for us and feel so many really, really good feelings. I love how you get us massages, and rub nice smelling creams into us, and pat us gently when we’re feeling wrinkly and soggy.  I love how you feed us good food and just enough wine and lots and lots of water. And I love those other things you do to me– yes, you know, THOSE things– because baby I have never been this turned on in my whole life.  Middle age spinsterhood turns out to be TOTALLY HOT.  Yow.

Plus, can we talk about the fact that you’re such a good mom?  I mean, seriously, kid.  You were the one who swore you’d never EVER have a baby because you were way too fucked up to inflict yourself on a tiny human.  And now look at you!!!  You are kicking some tail in the motherhood department.  I mean yes, you yell more than all the parenting books say you should, and things feel fraught and awful on a regular basis, like The Good Wife with some Macbeth thrown in, but look at that beautiful radiant girl you are raising.  Look at all the beautiful conversations you’ve already had just this week, and it’s only Thursday.  This is what winning looks like, dear one.  You’re both pretty great.

Next, let’s talk about the fact that you financially PROVIDE for you guys.  You are the bacon-bringer-homer, and the bacon-fryer, and the bacon-cleaner-upper.  That’s a lot.  No parter, no trust fund, not even any B-School sales!  And you are making it work like an EFBA.  I am not sure how you created a business that lets you still pick your kiddo up at 2:15, but I tell you what; I kiss the ground with gratitude.  I am so proud of you and so grateful.

Because side note: Remember a few years ago, when you’d made like $5000 as a coach, ever, TOTAL, and after the earthquake you just decided to GO for it and coach full time??  Wow, that was one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done.  I mean seriously, that was crazy.  What a gamble!!!  You had no business doing it.  Except– hey guess what, it worked!!!  I mean there were times, hon, when I was worried.  I was looking behind your back to see how much they pay at Anthropologie.  But with sheer stubbornness, you turned your tiny little hobby coaching practice into a thriving business that supports you and your daughter.  And you did it all by yourself, starting from scratch, living off of it the whole time.  It’s the definition of building the plane while flying it.  This is huge.  You deserve to feel so, so proud.

So all that to say; way to go honey.  You’re my favorite EFBA.  And I love how your definition of being an epic fucking badass actually includes lots of crying, and flailing, and fucking up, and Feeling Your Feelings.  It’s a little weird, but I kind of love that about you.

In closing this love letter– I want to mention how you strew our house with flowers.  This is just one of your many charming qualities, and it absolutely delights me.  Also I can’t tell you how much I admire the fact that you do the dishes Every Damn Night, no matter how tired you are, so that we can wake up to a shiny gleaming kitchen.  That is so kind and so selfless and so sweet.

I have many more things to say, but I know you are blushing (just kidding!!! you never blush!!  you are shameless and I love it!!!!) so instead, I’m going to go get the pink roses I bought for you, and I’m going to chill the Veuve, because my darling– you deserve nothing less.


Ok!!  Well that was intimate, wasn’t it??  Are you squirming??  GOOD.  Now go write your own mushy gushy love letter.  If you feel disgust or you’re feeling mortified for me right now, I want you to ask yourself– why???  What about this kind of praise seems unseemly to you? Why are you starving yourself of your own tender love?

And, most importantly, what might happen if you really showered yourself with love and gratitude for all you do and utter adoration for who you are?

I’ll tell you what would happen.  Good things, dear heart.  So go write yourself a love letter.

much love, 

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Hey there, I'm Katherine.

 I’ve got five kids, I’m a queer feminist, and I just might be the only life coach in the world who doesn’t believe in the Law of Attraction.

I write things for women with big, gorgeous, COMPLICATED lives.

I help women become epic fucking badasses… but I still retain my right to cry at every diaper commercial ever made.


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