A letter to an old friend

It’s been years since we’ve talked. I still see your posts from time to time. I truly hope you are doing as well as it seems. I think about the last time we talked, how much pain we were both experiencing. We were so young to be hurting like that.

I want you to know that I got better. I don't think I'm depressed for the first time in my life. I got the help that I needed to face the addiction that made me so hard to be around. Sobriety allowed me the clarity to confront my mental illness and get treatment. Addiction and depression are such ugly things, and can truly poison everything they touch. I’m sorry for all the ways I chose alcohol over you and was a bad friend during those years. I suppose I still carry so much guilt. For the nights I had to be carried home and taken care of. I’m not slowly trying to kill myself anymore, and I don’t try to forget everything.

I still enjoy so much of the same things we used to do together. It was such an honor to grow up alongside of you. The best memories we made remind me of what has always been important to me, before everything became consumed by alcohol. Dog beach, coffee shops, museums, farmers markets. I have a much deeper gratitude for those places and those moments now. I think you would love Whiskey. It’s so weird to think that we’re all grown up with our own dogs now, our childhood dogs preserved by our memories. I’ve been trying to write more letters to my friends. My roommate and I throw lots of themed parties, reminiscent of your college house. I'm working on traveling to more national parks.

I say this with no ulterior motives: I’m sorry that you had to see the worst sides of me. Not because I want anything or I'm trying to change what has happened but because I still feel so much regret. I don’t know if you’ve forgiven me, I don’t even know if I’ve forgiven myself. Maybe this letter was never meant for you at all. A letter written to no one and to everyone, but written mostly for me. It actually becomes a glimpse at the life I’ve been able to cultivate for myself in sobriety and a reflection of redemption. An apology to my younger self for what I put her through and the hope of not making those same mistakes. A promise that it really does get better.

With fond memories and nothing but love,

Ken and Whisk