Category: Letters

A Light in the Dark

Posted on by Ellie Rose McKee

Being stuck inside can suck. Everybody seems to at least agree on that one point right now, but I know that some people have it worse than most. This is an open letter to those not just stuck inside, but trapped inside with abusive assholes.

I wanna start by staying you have not only all of my sympathy, but my utmost respect, too. I’m so sorry this has happened to you.

I’ve spoken here a thousand times before about my own abusive upbringing, so I know a little of what it’s like. Though, of course, no situation is exactly the same and I’m not trying to pretend otherwise. I had it bad, but I know a lot of people had it a lot worse.

That’s not important. Abuse is abuse and there’s no point trying to compare it all to say what kinds deserve more sympathy or help than others. As some else once said, you can drown in a puddle just as well as a lake.

It can sound like a weird sentiment, but don’t feel guilty for being upset at your situation just because you know it could, technically, be worse. What you need right now is to focus on the positives.

Ha! You might be thinking. What positives? 

Granted, it’s much easier said than done and there really might be very little hope for you right now. Again, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to diminish your suffering, I want to help in some small way to get you through this.

So, positive: if you’re reading this, it must mean you have access to the internet. You’ll need to cling to that. As a mental escape. A link to the outside world. And/or a way to contact the authorities if you feel your life is in danger.

If your actions are being monitored, remember to delete your browsing history when you’re done looking at websites.

If your life is not in active danger but you’re being gaslit at every turn, criticised beyond what you can handle, or being made to feel like you’re unwanted, in the way, or being exploited in some way while you can’t get out, here’s the big thing you need to realise right now: sooner or later, this will end. Quarantine will come to a close and you will be able to get out.

You will. You just need to get to that point. Keep it in your sights. Hold tight to it.

Do not give up!

The whole ‘this too shall pass’ thing is kinda trite at this point, but that doesn’t make it any less true. It may take a week, a month, or – god forbid – a year or more, but the situation will change. You will get your chance at freedom.

You deserve freedom and happiness. You deserve to feel safe and loved and all the good this world has to offer. Because this world still does have good in it. I know it may not feel like it right now, because it’s being kept from you, but great things are possible for you. Your situation now will not be your situation forever.

You need to keep hanging on. There will be daylight again.

The Disconnect – Letter to My Body Part Three

Posted on by Ellie Rose McKee

There’s this thing John Green has spoken about quite a few times: how he used to conceptualize himself as a brain that had to be carried around by his body rather than the body being an intrinsic part of his being to begin with.

That’s how I used to think, And – in all honesty – it’s still how I feel, deep down.

But I can understand why John ultimately found the thinking unhelpful. For if the body was just a physical means to an end – to get him from A to B – its wellbeing didn’t matter so much. He didn’t have to really care about it, so long as his mind was fine.

Except doctors have known for a long time that physical health can and does affect mental health.

When John began to think about his body, and its needs, and embrace it and them as part of himself, he started to make changes than benefitted him as a whole. He began to exercise. He started to eat right, take better care of his teeth, and quit smoking.

For John, this has been a journey, and he’s not at the end of it, yet.

But, dear Body, I am trying – by the means of these letters if nothing else – to walk that same path.

Letter to My Body: Part Two

Posted on by Ellie Rose McKee

Dear Body,

I said in my first letter that I wanted to open a dialogue, and I do, but I guess it’s harder than I thought it would be because it’s been almost a year between that first letter and now. There’s so much we need to hash out, I’m still struggling to know where to start. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot – all our issues.

It’s a lot, you know?

I had planned, today, to bring up the complicated topic of food but, well, we’ve had one hell of a weekend, haven’t we? It’s only fair I give you a break and save that can of worms ’till later.

Right now, I know you’re in pain. To say it sucks doesn’t cover it.

I’m trying to figure out all that’s wrong, but it takes time. I feel frustrated, but I hope that all answers will come eventually, if I don’t stop looking for them.

I’m trying to come to terms with just how sick we are, and the possibility that I might always be in some amount of pain or other.

I’m scared.

I want someone to hold my hand through all this and keep me going. Obviously Steve is great for that, but he doesn’t have any more answers than I do. It’s hard to reach out for support from people who have gone through the same things, when you’re not sure what all of the things you’re going through are called.

I guess I should be grateful that I have diagnoses for at least some of it. Twenty years ago, I probably wouldn’t even have that. And Steve is so great. He listens, and sympathizes even when we don’t understand. It’s such a change of pace to how things used to be, living with my parents.

We can take solace in that. Things could be a hell of a lot worse.

I like to think we’re making progress. And, in the meantime, I really do plan to write more often. We shouldn’t be at odds with each other.

Take care, body. We’ll get there.

– Ellie.

Letter to my Body

Posted on by Ellie Rose McKee

Dear Body,

We have a lot to talk about, you and I. I barely know where to begin, but I think it’s fair to say that this won’t be the last letter I write you. Call this an introduction then, if you will.

I suppose we should address the elephant in the room: I didn’t like you for the longest time. It would have actually been fair to say that I hated you.

I’m sorry about that.

The thing is, I simply didn’t understand you and had been told a lot of lies about what you were like without taking the time to find out for myself. Growing up wasn’t easy on either of us – I don’t rightly think it’s easy on anyone – but it seems we’ve had more difficulties than most.

I know now that I’m not lazy and ugly, but I believed that for the longest time. I’d been so convinced I was grossly overweight to the point that I thought trying to do anything about it was pointless, and that led me to developing habits that led to weight gain! Self-fulfilling prophecy much?!

For a lot of years, I’ve felt broken and wrong. Maybe the broken part is true, but – KEY THING HERE – it’s not our fault!

Body, you are disabled. Literally, you have syndromes and disorders that stop you being able to do certain things. That’s annoying, but it’s not a personal failing.

Like I said, there’s a lot to unpack here. This is only me scratching the surface. Just know that I’m going to listen to you more, and I’m going to be nicer to you.

– Love, Ellie

A Love Letter to Lincoln

Posted on by Ellie Rose McKee

For Culture Night Belfast this year, the theme was love. Women Aloud NI had two events in the programme. At the one I read at, each of the readers was given a letter and told to write a love letter to it. I got the letter L, and this is what I made of it:

Lincoln, Lincolnshire, England: the place I lived for three years in my late teens/early twenties.

When I thought about what I wanted to write about for this love letter, there were a lot of options, but I think a part of me will always come back to Lincoln.

While at university there, I learned a lot – a lot of it the hard way and absolutely none of it to do with the actual subject I was supposed to be studying.

I fell in love with the city before I had even visited, having poured over guidebooks, maps, and watched a ton of tourism videos. Then, when I did get to see the place in person, for an open day, I knew it was all going to go well from the moment I slipped on some wet leaves while walking down the big hill and ended up with brown sludge smeared all over my backside for the rest of the day as I met other prospective students as well as my future lecturers.

It was all uphill from there. Then downhill for a bit, then uphill again, before finally going up in flames. Which is to say, my experience in those three years was… mixed.  Continue reading →

Letter to my Past Self

Posted on by Ellie Rose McKee

Dear Eighteen-Year-Old Ellie,

First things first, you change your name to Ellie. It’ll take a while for you to figure out, but the person you’ve been to this point isn’t the real you. More on that later. In terms of the name change, though, it’ll be easier for you from a practical point of view if you do it before you go off to university. Getting people to call you your preferred name is a lot easier when it’s the one you introduce yourself as.

And speaking of university… I know you’re excited, but don’t study forensic science, it will kill all of the interest you have in the subject. Also, you don’t have enough knowledge about politics outside Northern Ireland to study criminology. Come to think of it, you don’t have enough knowledge of politics inside Northern Ireland, either. I know you have a lot of strong opinions, but most of them are ill-informed.

The world is not as black and white as you think it is.

I know this is going to come as a pretty huge shock, but you will lose your faith. You will make your peace with that. I promise it’s not the bad thing you think it is. Honestly, the change makes you less of a dick. Religion, as you’ll find out, is mostly a tool used by privileged people to hate and oppress others. You won’t want a part in that once you’ve seen the damage it can do first hand.

Try and minimize your own personal range of damage. Don’t hate on your own gender, or those who make decisions differently to you. Learn to listen instead of arguing ­– you are better than the example that has been set for you.

You are not your mother.  Continue reading →