🔵 By Matthew Boivin. Photo by lauragrafie.
My love.
I know we haven’t even met yet, but I still write this letter knowing we will meet someday. I don’t know what your name is or how you look, but I do know you’re perfect the way you are. We both wait for the day we meet without even knowing who we’re waiting for, but I write knowing I already love you.
Telling a woman I love her has always been disastrous for me. With you, though, I know I’m safe. You won’t roll your eyes at a lovesick fool or laugh behind my back like the others. You know I hold the key – I love me first. The love I give myself is what drew you to me. The love I give myself lets you feel safe as well.
You see, my love, I know you’ve been down a though road, too. For an experienced eye like mine, the signs of your own prison are etched on your spirit. I see them in the way you laugh, but not too loudly. I see them in the way you hold your eyes slightly downcast to damper the fire that burns there. I see them in the way you hide your body because you do not yet know just how beautiful you truly are. And I see them in the way you hold me at arm’s length, afraid to believe that my affection is real. Trust is so very hard for you, my love. Yet, here I am knowing I love you unconditionally. My love for you is an extension of the love I have for myself. It wasn’t always this way, though, and that makes my love for you more powerful. There was a time when I did not love me and, in turn, could not love you as you deserve. Ironically, this hate-filled prison that has held me over 25 years taught me the truth about love.
Maybe the most important thing I learned was that you aren’t the source of my love – I am. Decades spent alone opened my eyes to that very simple concept. Before I came to prison, my heart was so full of self-loathing, I had no room for anything else. I reached for everything, anything that could make me feel – drugs pulled me deeper down, violence just hurt, and sex was empty. Everything I did to fill the void only left me more hollow. All I wanted was to feel something – anything to penetrate the numbness to let me know I was still alive.
No matter what I tried, the hole only grew until one day, sitting alone in a cell in Maximum Security Administrative Segregation, I felt love for the very first time. I was sitting on the edge of the concrete slab that served as my bunk listening to static to drown out the chaos of Ad-Seg when a feeling of sadness completely engulfed my meditation. I read somewhere that radio static is electromagnetic energy left over from the creation of the universe, so I frequently used static to be free with my thoughts amid the yells and screams that permeated any given day in Ad-Seg.
It was in this context of being in touch with the universe that my body was flooded with sadness. I simply sat with the feeling, letting my body weep. Maybe the tears that fell were for the loss of the innocent little boy I once was; maybe they were for the tragedies that led me to prison; or, maybe those tears were for the universal sadness we all feel. Perhaps I even felt your sadness, my love. From whatever source that sadness sprang, I surely sat with a sadness so profound, I wept silently as tears streamed down my face.
When I felt I could no longer contain such an inconsolable sorrow, I opened my heart and silently cried out. It was as if I pushed my very soul to the universe yearning for a relief to this abject despondency completely engulfing me. I opened my spirit, and the most wonderful feeling washed over me. From the crown of my head to the base of my spine, my body tingled with invigorating power. A feeling of utter peace filled the void of sorrow. Just as unexpectedly as they appeared, my tears dried of their own accord.
There I was, locked in a cold, forbidding cell surrounded by the hate of prison, listening to nothing, and doing nothing more than sitting alone experiencing emotions! I was not drinking alcohol or doing drugs, fighting a stranger or holding a woman. I did not cry out to Jesus, Allah, or Buddha. I did not cry out to Michelle, Jennifer, or Tena; and, I did not fall to my knees worshiping whatever idol was convenient. I simply sat. The love I languished thirty years aching to find was within me the entire time. Many years passed before I learned to let that love be an abiding presence within me, but that day in a concrete cell, locked behind a heavy steel door, I learned how to truly love myself. I let myself feel the love I already held inside.
That feeling of peace has not left even though I fell back into old habits on occasion, letting the chaos of my past creep in to obscure the purity. Always, though, I can clear away the confusion and feel true love. The perfection of that love can only be realized by giving it away. Imagine, my love, the day we come together and that love flows through both of us!
Just to feel my love surging through you as yours surges through me is the very definition of divinity. Yet, as poetic as those words may be, they are only words on paper without the actions to cement their reality.
And so, my love, because I respect you for the gift you are, I took the steps to become a man worthy of your love. I fixed me so that I could love you. I threw out all the baggage weighing me down until I can finally stand with my back straight, shoulders square and chin held high. I grew strong enough to hold you safely in my arms, yet remain tender enough to taste your tears. Your pain is my pain as the current of our love flows between us. But even as I sit in prison waiting for the day we meet, I ask you to do something for me.
I ask you to open your heart to be the best woman you can be. I came to know my true self as the strong man I am: an organized, a planner, a builder, and an analyst. My masculine is an even-moving swirl as I grow every day to realize the height of my potential. I ask for your feminine to balance me. I don’t ask you to be my subordinate, I ask you to be my partner. With your left hand on my right shoulder, lean into my strong back so we can build our dreams together. I need you beside me, neither above or beneath me, nor in front of or behind me. As I surrender myself to you, submit yourself to me. Let your feminine compliment my masculine so that we grow together to become more than the sum of ourselves.
I ask you to let go of the past that only drags you down. All things in life happen for a reason and every hurt we feel is a teaching moment on our journey to the highest perfection. Easier said than done, I absolutely know. I can say that with confidence, though, because I walked through the fire, too. My pain was so pervasive, I took another man’s life when my own life had to value. I have much work left to do to restore that balance, but I am well on my way to being free of my past.
I have faith in you, my love, and know you can walk through that fire, too. When you think it hurts too much, close your eyes, listen to the static and breathe. You have the strength to break free, and, if you listen close, you can hear me supporting you: you can do this, my love.
I ask you to forgive those who hurt you in the past. Most importantly, I ask you to forgive yourself. The bad decisions made by the girl you were and the harsh things you put yourself through do not define who you are now. Forgive that girl so the woman can breathe. My left arm is covered in tattoos representing the chaos I grew up in, yet, even though the tattoos may be permanent, they are, nonetheless, powerless to control me. The images in your mind making you feel guilty, ashamed, and even worthless are just as powerless as my tattoos.
We are not the bad decisions we made unless we keep feeding them with guilt, shame, and self-loathing. View those that hurt you as teachers providing you the tools to grow toward the highest perfection. When you think you can newer forgive the men who hurt you or that the things you’ve done make you unworthy of forgiveness, close your eyes, listen to the static and breathe. Imagine yourself a seed, germinating in the darkness punishing through the soil to become the beautiful flower you are. If you listen close, you can hear me encouraging you: You are absolutely worth it, my love.
I finally ask you for the most important thing: I ask you to give yourself love, too. Let yourself feel the love you so freely gave to men who weren’t deserving and did not cherish you. Those men used you and left you empty as they devoured your goodness until you, too believed you were undeserving of love. The depression of the prisons we confine ourselves to eats away at the happiness until we believe the sadness is all we deserve.
I struggled with his many years, fighting over nothing, drinking prison hooch to numb the pain, and keeping myself in and out of the hole until I finally forced myself to stop believing the lie. I still wake up fighting in my dreams and still fight the depression of this grey, miserable prison. Yet I know this feeling will pass in its own time to be replaced by joy. When you think the loneliness is all you deserve, close your eyes, listen to the static and breathe the truth. If you listen close, you can hear me sharing that truth: you are a precious treasure, my love, deserving of a man who helps you grow to the highest perfection; do not settle for anything less than the respect you deserve as the beautiful gift you are.
I don’t know if you’re name is Ania, Mikaela, or Sarah. I don’t know if you are Zaye, Stasia, or Pretty. I don’t know if you are in prison now or if you are in so-called free society. All I know is that I felt your sadness and that sadness led me to love. That love led me to build myself into an honorable man worthy of your love. I strengthened myself to be a man who stands solid against the crashing waves, confident that calmer waters come soon.
As you rest with these words swirling your thoughts, open the door to your heart. Let yourself feel the love you already are. Let that love wash you from the crown of your head to the base of your spine. You may find this man waits for you just outside that door. You just may find this man loves you in truth. Only a man who truly knows the meaning of alone can cherish the precious value of togetherness.
Simply open the door to yourself, my love. We are already there.