Letters to June // 03

Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year. This letter is from long-time contributor Elisha Pidcock.

Dear June,

Your beginning has met the tail-end of an era that, at one point in my life, I hoped I would never have to leave behind. You have brought me challenges that remind me of the exponential strength of human will. You have taught me lessons in patience, autonomy, and self-love. You have brought me a newly burgeoning sense of identity. Most importantly, you have kept me company in a place I can only refer to as Pacifying Loneliness. It is a destination, at which I have arrived after years of loneliness which germinated in company that diminished my psyche and identity; that made me feel invisible. This new loneliness is pacifying because, though it is a perpetual, aching, heart-sigh, I have full ownership of it. I have settled here. It has become home. It is mine; mine alone.

I have sat in solitary reflection of the full Sagittarius moon, basking in its ethereal light as I noticed the cosmos in a way that is like waking up after years of numbness; contemplating a future that is now fully in my hands. I am faced with the beautiful potential of my youth, and the loss of the final dredges of my naivety. I have lost a disquieting sense of urgency which has caused me to feel as though I am trying to run in every direction all at once‒a visceral catalyst for something unknown which has burst from my chest like a supernova, causing me to trip over myself in my haste. This haste has been replaced with the simple, soothing mantra: “There is still time.” In turn, my fear of the future, of the unknown which seemed so far out of my grasp, has been replaced with tangible goals, and auspicious aspirations.

June, you have brought to me a level of self-reflection that, indeed, is a melancholic veil, lightly ever present; resultant from change. This change has come from within and ricocheted into every corner of my life as I dissect my image of life and of myself, deconstructing and recomposing a vision which does justice to my full potential. You have faced me with the undeniable truth that change is a goliath which can strike fear into individuals with even the sturdiest of constitutions. But this goliath has shifted my world into being. It is a frightening, but essential part of growth. I have spent a life living in fear, but this manner of fear serves me no purpose. Now as I face the world with an open, ambling heart, I am seeing myself and my life clearly after years of wading through fog. I am shaking my fear of “can’t” and “what if” and failure. I am working towards a life I believe in, which is representative of my character; which does justice to the young daughter whom I love so dearly. It is for her as much as it is for myself, that I have decided to leave the life I once shared with her father, in pursuit of a more peaceful life. For this reason, I am no longer afraid to be the most earnest version of myself, fed up with making myself small for someone who did not know how to truly love or respect me.

Here I am, deep in the trenches of life, inhaling the scent of you through open car windows as I make the solitary, nocturnal, trip home from one of the number of temporary jobs which I have adopted to provide stability to my daughter; the platitudinous trope of a single mother. It is here I am acquainted with myself for the first time after bending to fit the mould of others for far too long. I am a dedicated mother with an immeasurable love for my child. I am a studious, investigative mind, resigned to nearly a decade of education on a path toward decrypting consciousness. I am a dreamer, a romantic, an empath, a bleeding heart. I am resilient, brave, hard-working, and ever evolving. I am queer and genderfluid. I am, unapologetically, me.

It is through your eyes, June, that I see all the facets which make me who I am as I learn to love myself. This is a love which radiates energy. It allows me to give the world the very best I have to offer. It allows me to be a pillar of support for others learning the same, difficult, lesson. It allows me to give the best version of myself to the people for whom I care deeply, one of whom is me. It allows me to breathe easy, at last, inhaling the fragrant evening smell of blooming honeysuckle, wild blackberry vines and callery pear through an open summer window.

With love and hopefulness,

Elisha