Angela Mollard: What letter from 27 years ago teaches me about myself today

A lost letter Angela Mollard wrote to her mum in 1994 reminded her about what’s changed — and what is still the same. Here’s why she thinks we should write regular letters to ourselves.

My brother has inherited a filing cabinet from my parents and as he was putting his papers into it he saw something stuck behind one of the drawers.

It was a letter from me, handwritten to my mum, in December 1994.

I was in Germany, on a reporting assignment, and according to my letter it had gone exceedingly well. So well, in fact, that I had taken the evening off work to meander around the local Christmas market where I’d sipped mulled wine and eaten bratwurst.

But as my letter explained, not everything in my life was going so swimmingly. I was 26 and in a relationship that was failing. The man I loved resented my job and wanted me to give it up. He felt it was too unpredictable and that it was impacting our relationship.

Columnist Angela Mollard. Picture: Tim Hunter

I spelt it all out in the letter to my mum, agonising over what to do.

As I signed off, I’d asked her to do something for me.

“Please keep this letter for me so in five years’ time when I’ve got my life sorted out I can look back at it and feel I’ve achieved something.”

It’s now 27 years later and as she read the lost letter to me this week, my mum laughed as much as I did. Because few things can remind you of time’s inexorable march and life’s propensity for change as an unexpected window into your younger self.

I wonder if we might all benefit from writing regular letters to ourselves, not just for the novelty of reliving who we once were but so that we can see that most things that trouble us are eventually resolved.

Here’s some of the things my yellowing old letter has prompted me to consider:

■ There will never be a moment in my life when I’ve “arrived”; where I am a fully optimal person who responds correctly to everything and has all the pillars of my life in harmony. Most of us are dealing with something but the letter showed me I’ve matured. Back then I clearly felt I had to deal with a conundrum whereas these days, for the most part, I feel I get to deal with a conundrum. It’s a privilege to grow, find solutions and understand yourself and others better.

■ We should see ourselves like pot plants that need regular repotting lest we become root-bound. We so often cling to what we know but sometimes we need to unearth ourselves from the familiar, and what feels safe, and start afresh. I did leave that relationship and while it hurt like hell, I not only survived but thrived. Had I given up my job to keep him happy I would’ve been giving up on me.

■ Life is galloping past. That night in Germany was at the exact halfway point of my life thus far and yet it feels like a recent memory. The psychologist Oliver Burkeman recounts in his latest book asking his friends how many weeks they thought they could expect to live without doing any mental arithmetic. Like me, they were staggered to learn most of us only have a lifespan which lasts 4000 weeks. As Burkeman points out: “We recoil from the notion that this is it – that this life, with all its flaws and inescapable vulnerabilities, its extreme brevity, and our limited influence over how it unfolds, is the only one we’ll get a shot at.”

■ We can do hard things. Elsewhere in my letter I recount to my mum my terror at being sent to Germany where I had to drive on the wrong side of the road and find a translator to accompany me on my interviews.

Angela Mollard believes we should write a letter to ourselves. Picture: Generic image

There was no manual; I had to work it out myself. All the while worrying that my relationship back home was about to collapse. If I think back, it’s always the hardest things that have enlarged me.

■ You’ve won the lottery if you have a loving family. My letter reminds me how fortunate I’ve been to have my mum as a sounding board. Until the pandemic I took it for granted, believing she would always be there for me. The fact is, she won’t be. I suspect that’s why Kylie Minogue is moving back to Australia. Ultimately, there is nothing more important than showing up for the people you love.

■ Your own company can be magical. All through my life I’ve taken opportunities to travel alone. It sharpens the experience when it’s just you in the world, undiluted by the cushion of someone else. You see more, hear more, fear more – and the adventure stays with you forever.

■ As our communications become ever more disposable, handwritten letters are precious. We should write them regularly – to ourselves and others.

■ The heart heals. You think there will never be another him and there won’t be. But there will be another you to whom love will find its way again.

Incidentally, the man in the letter? He’s now married with two children. He was my first love and, therefore, forever precious.

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