I am an English major because I love words. I love that, when strung together, words make sentences. I love that these sentences tell stories.
And yet, I struggle with my words. More often than not I fear that they are insufficient. I fear that what I say may be ruined by how I say it. I love words so much that I’ve been crippled by my endless search for all of the “right” ones.
There are two words that I struggle with more than any others: thank you. My parents support me financially and emotionally. My sister loves me unconditionally. My boyfriend will sense my bad mood, pick up his guitar and play a made-up song that makes me laugh. My roommates encourage me in all potential adventures — sober or otherwise. How can I ever thank them? How can I be okay with thanking them and leaving it at that?
What’s even harder than thanking the people I love and live with, though, is thanking people from my past. As difficult as it is for me to express gratitude toward my small inner circle of family and friends, it’s even more difficult for me to send words of thanks to people I once knew.
If I could gather all of the right words, I would say thank you to my favorite high school teachers. I would tell Mrs. Baldwin that Donne’s “A Valediction Forbidding Mourning,” is still the most beautiful poem I’ve ever read. I would tell Ms. Sharp that I can argue almost anything, with anyone, because she asked me to join the debate team and argue for one side as ardently as I argued against it. I would tell Ms. Riley that despite my short-lived career in investigative journalism, Woodward and Bernstein are still my favorite journalists, and I listened to them talk at the Virginia Film Festival, mainly because I thought she’d have liked to be there too.
I would thank the strangers who email me, occasionally, about my column. I would express — in all of the words that sound pure and generous and eloquent, how much their own mean to me. Words for words: a simple and powerful exchange. I would thank the customers who leave me large tips, and even just the ones who are nice because they realize I’m human too.
If I had all of the right words, I would thank Lillian for being the smartest, most independent and determined girl I’ve ever met. I would couple “thank you” with “I’m sorry,” because I think those often go together. I would thank Emelie for being honest and loyal and hilarious. I would thank Mitchell for showing me how to be weird and cool at the same time. I would thank Erica for being herself, through each and every one of her hair styles. I would thank Mikey and Matt and Matty, and maybe even some guys I used to date. I would thank them all for being themselves when I was being myself, and for giving me a reason to want to give them my words.
I have been writing to myself since I was in high school. In various journals — some on paper, some on computer documents — I have written to my current, past and future selves. I’m on pretty good terms with myself. I’m not quite as good at communicating with others.
I have written a few letters to people I love. I’ve written plenty of short thank you notes to people I like. But never before have I felt like I’ve said the right thing. I am who I am today because of the people I’ve encountered, and yet, I’m not sure how to show them my gratitude.
I know this column will not suffice, but these words are just the introduction.
Connelly’s column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at c.hardaway@cavalierdaily.com.
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