Dear Me

Dear Me,

I’ve known you for 21 years now and every day you still amaze me. 3 of those years are memories and stories in another time, in another country. 18 of those years you’ve spent trapped in an unwanted immigration status here in America. I know life has gotten harder for you especially after graduating high school. You continue to be a strong and independent woman despite all this. No matter the troubles you some how find a smile to share and offer words of encouragement to others. I don’t know how you do it.

You are an inspiration.

I know being undocumented is a state you love and hate all at once. But I have come to the conclusion that if it weren’t for your immigration status you wouldn’t be the person you are today. You also wouldn’t have met all the amazing people you now know.

You are a great listener.


However, time and responsibilities have gotten in the way of our beautiful relationship. I know I haven’t been around much lately but I think about you all the time. I’m sorry we haven’t talked for a while; it has been hectic on my end. I’m sorry for putting you last on my list of priorities and not spending enough time together when all you needed was to talk or to write. I want to apologize for putting your needs last, not valuing your worth and telling you that you didn’t have any anyway. I’m really sorry for the times I yelled at you for crying and begged you to stop because it was embarrassing; I didn’t mean it at all, on the other hand, I think it is amazing that you’re able to show emotion with such eloquence. Watching you grow and develop as a woman and an activist has been an amazing journey and I want to thank you for taking me on it.

 Have I told you lately that I love your smile because of your little dimples and the red nose that follows after your tears?

 I wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for the many times I forced you out of bed when you didn’t even want to breathe; it was for your own good and I promise to continue to be there to offer strength when needed and when you don’t want to admit it. I know being undocumented is a huge burden and I am here to help you carry it.

You are courageous.

I wanted to renew my vows with you today and I will remind myself of these every day. I promise to cherish and admire all of you both mentally and physically. By mentally I mean, respecting your ideas and beliefs. I’ll let you speak out and I won’t second guess you or question what you want to do. I promise to give you your space and time for self-care. I once promised to support you 200% of the time but I’ve forgotten that. I also said I would have and hold you, for better for worse, for richer for poor, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. I’ve lost practice but your patient ways have taught me to love and care again.

You are amazing.

I will physically adore you in all the ways you deserve and more. I will never criticize you on your weight/body again, or tell you you’re not pretty enough because indeed you’re a beauty both inside and out. I promise to do your nails more because I remember how much you like doing them and I won’t complain about the new clothes you’ve bought because in reality you deserve that and more. So much more.

You are beautiful.

I promise to spend more time with you and more money on you every once in a while because I know how hard you work for everything and everyone else but rarely treat yourself. Angy, I’m sorry for the many times I made you skip meals, exercise and sleep because of something else, not acknowledging that your health is important. I promise to work with you on a plan that will benefit your physical and mental health. You cannot take care of others if you are not taking care of yourself; you’ve taught me that.

Never let anyone bring you down.

I’ve come to realize that if you start putting someone last enough, others will too. How do we expect others to love us and appreciate us when we can’t even do that for ourselves?

Till death do us part and with a lot of love,
Angy