If I could talk to my past self, I would tell her she’s doing the best she can with the tools she has, and she’s not weak, broken, or uniquely over emotional. I would tell her that the anxiety and depression are real, not imagined, and that she doesn’t have to act like she’s ok and as if nothing is wrong. I would tell her that she simply has a human condition. She’s not the only one who feels dark, scared, overwhelmed, or different, and she doesn’t have to hide those feelings or punish herself for having them.

I would tell her that happiness doesn’t just happen to lucky people. We have to participate in it, practice it, and move toward it through small daily choices. I would tell her that trying to control that which is outside of her fingertips will not save her, but acceptance, rest, and connection with others will. And even though life will not unfold the way she expects due to alcoholism, stroke, and unimaginable loss, she will be okay. I will tell her that she will grow into someone braver that she ever imagined being, wiser because of the hard stuff, and strong enough to help other people who feel the same way she does.

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