Dear Box,

Thank you.  I am grateful for how you've sheltered me all these years.  I needed your protection, I was fragile, I needed to heal.  I felt so safe inside of you.  Warm.  As I grew, you stayed the same. I found myself shrinking, to fit inside of you.  To stay safe.  Warm.

But safety became a delusion.  Because I had outgrown you.  So I lived in denial, kept shrinking to fit.  During my various growth spurts, I would stand-up, look around.  I started to venture out, from time to time.  Run, dance...play.  Pain would come, I would retreat to you.  Shrink myself as best I could.  Hide.

The word I chose this year is "Open".  My first step, dear box, is to not just venture outside, but to leave you behind entirely.  I know there's another little girl, who needs your protection, during a vulnerable time.  Hopefully she will be insightful enough to leave you behind as soon as she outgrows you, instead of continuing to hang on, as I have.  Far, far too long.

And so, today, I write to tell you I'm leaving you.  I'm moving on.  I'm done shrinking to fit, denying myself the opportunity to stand in my pain and grow stronger in my own right.  The pain will come, and I will no longer retreat.  I will not seek shelter or safety.  I will experience the pain and grow stronger.  Perhaps I will need to reach out, but no longer will I run and hide.

I am Open.

I am Love.

I am Resilience.

I am Mee.

Finally.