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In honor of last year's "Letter to My Body" initiative, which resulted in hundreds of amazing essays by bloggers about body image, BlogHer is announcing "Letter to My Heart." And if you're wondering whether it's no accident that we're taking this on before Valentine's Day, you're right.
With "Letter to My Heart," BlogHer is inviting women to share stories about love, loss, relationships, romance and, yes, even Valentine's Day. Love isn't easy, and it takes so many forms. We want to hear your story, and share it with everyone else whose heart has ever broken or melted or both.
Write your letter on your blog, and then add your link to the Mr. Linky tool at the bottom of this post (I know, sounds dirty doesn't it?). You can also blog your letter on BlogHer (select the Letter to My Heart topic) and your letter will feed directly in to the BlogHer Letter to My Heart widget we're creating. We'll select a few of these links to feature across the BlogHer network every day.
Truth? I was a little scared of this topic. So we thought it was only fair that I go first -- I hope you join me! Here goes:
Dear Heart,
It's time we had it out. I'm ready to explain the last twenty years of bitchy eye-rolling, regular silent treatment and outright war between us. You must wonder why we can now sit here holding hands like you didn't put gum in my hair in the fifth grade, which you SO did.
Until very recently, I hated you for being a rotten wingman in the romance department. I wanted Chanel, you delivered Eau de Gangrene. There it is.
Our trouble began when you set my expectations all wrong early in life. You were always athletically gifted at the daughter and sister thing. I still don't know how you did it, toughing out the simultaneous implosion of three teenage girls, but, thanks to you, my sisters and I emerged on the other side as soulmates. Even my brother got honorary sister-insider status as a result of your talent. To this very day, if I pick up a photo of one of these crazy nuts at any age and you can make me tear up and get mushy and reach for my iPhone to send yet another text message. Thank you. Really, you made it too easy.
Which is why, dear Heart, I faulted you -- wanted to scrape you out with a grapefruit spoon -- in the romance department. Oh, you idiotic earnest believer, you; how did you stay a rookie for decades?! If it had two legs and was handsome, you were a goner. The second you saw that little boy in First Grade -- Craig? Alfredo? whatever -- I knew you could get distracted. But I didn't think you would always have the two-minute memory of a crushed-out 13-year-old. Time after time you believed that an angel's face reflected the tenor of another heart, lurking within.
Um, wrong. You were two-timing Brain with Libido, was my theory at the time. Bad girl! The result? High school boyfriends who couldn't think, college boyfriends who couldn't be faithful, a date-rape and one marriage that...ended badly. This record is why I finally staged a total brand recall of Body in the late 1990s. I blamed you for crimes, Heart, so I chose to cut you out of the picture. I just couldn't trust you.
Yet here we sit, like BFFs over coffee. Why? Because of your true superpower: Motherhood. Ooooooh, motherhood is the bowl of warm chocolate fondue that we've been swimming in for twelve years together. You had me at "Mom." Rebirth. Hearts. Flowers. Crayons. Halloween costumes. Comic books. Movie popcorn with M&Ms sprinkled inside. Ninja lessons. Even lice was fun, kind of.
The Jedi mind-trick worked: You pick-axed away at my deflector shields for all human love via offspring. As you did, I finally learned what you had been trying to teach me for two decades: It's actually MY job to engage Brain because you're all Heart. Duh. I wasn't using all that is me to take care of you. And you deserved better.
So thank you. Thank you for resisting me when I tried to declare you 250 years old and closed for business. Thank you for inspiring me to study up, engage Brain and try all over again. You may no longer be young, girlfriend, but you are made even more beautiful by all these emotional
