Writing an Open Letter to Myself at 18
Please love yourself.
You are incredibly talented and bloody intelligent, too, maybe not with every single thing ever. Still, when you become determined, you are driven by a pure fire made of passion.
That is something NOBODY can take from you, or be judgmental over the fact you are pursuing what you fucking love!
You probably do not even have the slightest of ideas why I am writing all of this to you, specifically. That is OK.
I write all of this to you today, at age twenty-four.
If I were to write this letter one year ago, let me fucking just tell you that my writing, thoughts, views, beliefs, actions, none of this would be the same.
This is because I haven’t been ready to do this until recently.
Instead, I want to focus on talking and telling you about two specific years- 2017 and 2020.
These two years, in particular, are fucking painful, and god damn bloody years, let me just tell you!
Also, correction- the years I will technically be referring to comes down to starting from September of 2016 (and on a serious note, the nightmare I will be writing about is only 25% of the shit show that you are going to have to endure-if only I could re-guide you back in 2016…) into all of 2017, and also from September of 2020 into September of 2021-present day for myself.
Honestly, as I write this right now, I have come to the realization that writing this letter to you is a form of therapy that not only is one I have needed for years, but also one I have avoided due to fear and insecurity, constantly thinking I MUST PUBLISH EVERY WRITING-when really? All I have done is stress myself out, let myself be controlled like a master puppet by my anxiety and perfectionism, and fear this “judgment” that, in reality, does not even fucking exist.
One of the HARDEST parts about realizing this?
The hardest fucking part is that apparently, you aren’t supposed to feel “guilty” about what I know full well is one thing you and I both feel- could be classified as “wasted time,” but, honestly?
It is only considered “wasted time” if we say that to ourselves.
I know this may be difficult for you to read (if you could read it, anyway.). Still, over the traumatic years, I have adopted the philosophy that everything truly happens for a reason of sorts. And, since we both have had a tendency to learn the fucking hard way (I have finally cracked the code on the why behind this), typically, that reason is some type of learning lesson or experience.
Remember how grandpa always says, “learn one new thing daily”?
This also has become a part of my life philosophy and motto list. I am proud of that.
So, obviously, I already know everything about you (creepy, am I right? Haha.).
But, I suppose you don’t know much about life when you reach ages 23–24.
Remember how I mentioned this not so little demon called ‘Bipolar 1 with Psychotic Features’ and ‘Borderline Personality Disorder’? You will come to find out when you are 22/23 about the Bipolar 1 diagnosis-which, quite frankly, you knew and were 100% correct in self-diagnosing yourself with this one, and on a severe level, it took three therapists before finding one competent enough to agree with you.
I am so proud of you for your dedication to the truth and simply your dedication in all things you do.
The BPD diagnosis doesn’t end up happening until age 24, though, and this one, you were utterly SPOT ON about before your therapist, again.
But this therapist is pretty awesome.
Oh shit, I almost forgot- you do not even have a damn clue how therapy works.
You will resist it at first, as most of us do- and that is perfectly fucking OK.
To be honest with you, only as I write this do I feel that I have finally started WINNING the battle fighting with Mental Illness’ every day, and I finally feel that I can begin to open up-as I sincerely wish you would have been able to do so sooner.
But how could you open yourself up when you are SURROUNDED by toxic relationships from family, to friends, to dating, your entire fucking life? It truly is not your fault.
So you’re probably thinking, “Two Mental Disorders?!” right? Unfortunately, and although those two are significant problems to have to find ways of coping with, there is a relatively extensive list of more disorders that I have to deal with for the rest of my life, too.
What are they?
ADHD Combined Type, Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia, OCPD, Narcolepsy, Hypersexuality, Anti-Social Personality Disorder, and that I believe would be all of them, at least the Mental Disorders…
Thinking back on how these disorders have affected me, it’s pretty insane to think about in comparison to where I am writing this today.
If you were to ask me right now, which disorders have affected me the most, it would be a some-what tricky question to answer.
But, it is an important one for both of us. Living with these disorders has absolutely changed me as a person- though that isn’t to say that is a bad thing! Through learning the hard way (as per usual for us), change and growth are born, usually at least, and change does not always equal “bad”- no matter how much it may scare us.
From what I have noticed, there is definitely an episode-like pattern with most of these disorders.
So, specific lengths of time, whether hours, days, weeks, and sometimes even months- are more challenging to cope with and handle or control than others.
Let’s begin with the present day.
Presently, it’s the Panic Disorder, OCD (Perfectionism flare-up, per se), mixed with a good amount of Mania- which at first you are going to freak the fuck out about. Don’t fear this, though! Honestly, two years post-diagnosis, my Bipolar episodes have become the most normalized and manageable for the most part WITHOUT any mood stabilizers, which is fucking insane for me to actually say right now.
Realistically, I don’t really know too much about when it comes to my BPD… at least not yet. I refuse to give up on trying to understand BPD and Me, despite how scary it may seem.
The OCD, though, is some fucking complex shit! It seems, reflecting back today, as though it is also some-what episodic-like. There will be times that it is almost entirely dormant compared to the remainder of the time, where it has what you would almost call a form of control over me, especially when it comes to being a perfectionist.
OK, yes, it is taking me a little bit to write this, as per the usual perfectionist-avoidance-fear-repeat cycle of self-sabotage- but every day, I try to remind myself that that is perfectly OK, and to have a serious sit-down talk with my goals/goal setting (as I wish you would, too-yesterday. It is only going to get worse if you feed it), to set more realistic and achievable goals, and to also not feel guilty or self-critical, if I don’t “perfectly attain” the goals set.
So, I suppose I should incorporate a recap of what you will have to go through (I can genuinely say I have never been happier to be on the other side of these hurricanes, and they are some fucking hurricanes!).
For the most part, I have honestly blocked or blacked out most of these experiences and memories overall- the joys of trauma.
However, that is precisely why I need to get all of this out.
Now, the question is, do I start with the good news or the bad?
Fuck it. Let’s begin with some amazingly good news- despite this one not happening until you are 23, and fair warning… it is followed almost immediately by some fucking deep shit- so do not say I have not warned you.
This actually falls into place timeline-wise quite perfectly, though unintentional- I am currently about to smoke bowl no. 4, and it is only 7 A.M., so I am a tad bit jumbled.
(I know, I know- your mind is probably shook right now thinking, “The fourth bowl…?! 7 in the MORNING?!? How fucking long have you ever been awake, and WHY?!”)
Well, partner, we smoke freely and frequently in these parts!
I also, over time, have grown to fucking love and appreciate the shit out of early mornings, starting around about five A.M., almost every day- it has gotten to the point where the anxiety gets me up anywhere between 3–6 A.M.
Then, as a result, once I get woken up-it is almost fucking impossible for me to go back to sleep, on top of the mania-driven urge to sleep as little as possible most of the time. But, mornings really are lovely. Although I do miss the ability to sleep in. like you can.
Well, you will not see most of this coming. I know that much for a fact!
(Honestly, it is probably all a giant tie.)
The good news is that you are going to get fucking engaged to a man beyond our ever-living dreams!
You will have to go through some significant hell for almost four years leading up to meeting/dating him, though. Unfortunately, hell does not go on vacations, so do not get too excited. Although the little things are what make this hell we call life worth living- please, keep this in mind before reading the following things I am about to tell you.
So, remember earlier when I said to not get into a relationship with the guy who would get you to do Heroin? Here is why.
That guy is a guy who is actually a severe Covert Narcissist with extreme insecurity problems. I know you don’t really know what a “Covert Narcissist” is. Still, you, unfortunately, are going to find out the hard way- as per the usual, and he is going to be a nightmare for you full of gaslighting, psychological manipulation/abuse/control, getting you addicted and dependent on Heroin, Stimulants, and other prescription medications- and then force you to withdraw from multiple substances and prescriptions by hiding your substances (this is the cause of, if I remember correctly, a couple job losses).
Oh! He also will convince you that you have a stimulant problem (with your prescribed medications), resulting in you choosing to try to go to detox and treatment.
Which, for obvious reasons, does not work out for you.
So, that VERY briefly covers the upcoming four years for you, but what about this past year for me/us?
It’s actually pretty funny when I look back on what started a domino effect- after that, beginning on the exact same day of getting engaged, was the date that you got knocked up…
Now, just slow down for a fucking second!
Spoiler alert: you won’t be going into labor, ever. But I will get to that in a second.
You won’t find out about the pregnancy (preg-Karen as I called it, due to the amount of suffering) until I believe it was about five or so weeks in late September of 2020.
Also, unfortunately, you will have to go to two (voluntary, though) mental health facilities in those five weeks- time.
Which, let me just say, was fucking brutal as all hell!
The pregnancy was one for the record books.
Before the pregnancy? All there was for me to have to live with was Bipolar Disorder, ADHD, GAD, Chronic Gastritis, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, and that is pretty much all there used to be.
But now?
I already filled you in on the mental side, but the physical side?
During the pregnancy, I was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum(you’ve heard about morning sickness, I would have given my LIFE to have had morning sickness instead! These two fucking horrific words meant I had to go to the Emergency Room more than twice a week to have IV bags to rehydrate my body due to, at times, 17 hours straight of vomiting profusely.), Chronic Stomach Ulcers, a herniated disc, Sciatica in both sides, as well as Fibromyalgia- for life.
I suppose I should note how half or more of them came to be when it comes to the mental illnesses that I have been plagued with acquiring.
The pregnancy, again, is the root of the hell that is in your future, and something that changed me on a chemical level, rewiring my brain and teaching me to stand up for myself- but also to take care of myself, or at least try every single day.
Anyways, not only did I get the lovely gifts of physical disorders that I listed above, but I also acquired through that pregnancy the Panic Disorder that was initially Generalized Anxiety Disorder, OCPD, Bipolar 1 that was initially Bipolar 2 Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Narcolepsy, all of which I would have happily and peacefully have gone the rest of this lifetime, and the following infinite amount of lifetimes without.
Remember how avidly pro-choice you’ve always been?
Well, having to be in a real-life situation where you have to make that decision is fucking weird as hell.
I don’t really know how to describe it besides fucking weird as hell, honestly.
When I say that there were only 2 days that I almost thought I wanted to have the kid, out of the whole 14 or whatever weeks I had to be plagued by pregnancy, I am not lying- I was just delusional for a couple of days.
The pregnancy was finally over as of November of 2020! Thankfully so, too. When you are a recovering/recovered addict on MAT, and you are pregnant, they flag you as a High-Risk Pregnancy- no exceptions.
Especially considering the other health problems, it’s no wonder I was a High-Risk Pregnant Woman!
The only reason that 99% of doctors I saw tried so hard to deny me the right to medications I had been prescribed for years was because I am a recovering Heroin addict on MAT- when I had five years or more of sobriety, without a single relapse at the time.
The ridiculous part in all of that? I had only used Heroin for a whopping five, maybe six months at the very most- which was heavily documented, with over four years of clean drug screenings, also all heavily noted.
In all seriousness, though- the pregnancy, according to the multiple OBGYN’s I ended up seeing, by the time I hit maybe nine weeks along, I was advised to seriously consider having a medically necessary surgical abortion.
I tried so fucking hard to suffer silently through every day, fighting doctors at every appointment to be able to stay on my medications that were my only way of functioning at least a little bit, and had no scientific evidence of any risks at all while pregnant, dealing with uneducated and stigmatic doctors at most ER visits telling me that I was “perfectly healthy” and that “this is all part of being pregnant, it will be worth it,” they said.
Needless to say, that pregnancy, despite how horrendous it may have been, when I think back on it, I think of for one the pain it caused (that, unfortunately, will take time longer than I would be able to put into words due to how fucking awful it was.) But, most importantly, how it made me so much stronger, and how much it forced me to grow and open up my perspectives on life in a way that I always thought wasn’t real for years- until now.
Some things I have noticed about you and me are the inabilities to set boundaries or say no. This is something hugely important to me currently. I sincerely wish you would have worked to build boundaries, stop doing anything/everything for anyone/everyone vs. you and me as the #1 priority, feel confident in practicing the art of saying no (this one I still struggle a lot with, but I promise to never stop trying for US.), stop thinking that doing drugs is cool, or that you “don’t have a problem,” and thinking that “I’ll just do this, this one last time. After this time, I will start to taper off/down/stop starting tomorrow.” (The latter is like a cognitive parasite, I fucking swear.)
Basically, a TDLR of what I wish you would have done differently is…
- Don’t let yourself be controlled, and as an inevitable result paralyzed by, your own fear- which is the root of most of the self-sabotaging behaviors that have been a near-constant for about 24.5 years.
2. Putting yourself first and practicing self-care more often.
3. Say “Hell No!” more often, especially when it’s some serious shenanigans, or even more importantly, in your work, your family, opportunities, and if I could change this, in the decision to go to cosmetology at all. As well as, for obvious reasons, the decision to not only do Heroin once, but the second time precisely (You did not even fucking like Heroin when you did it once, yet you continued to do it! That is why I wish I could change your decision to do Heroin the second time.)
4. Always having the “Procrastinator Perfectionist” mindset and fucking accept that perfectionism is a lie, and procrastination only gets you more anxiety and stress that you are the cause of!
5. Accept help, and that not everyone is going to hurt or judge you.
6. Be HONEST and open up/communicate!
7. Realize that there are these crazy little things called emotions and feelings, something that every single human being has (fucking crazy, I know)
8. Accept your emotions and feelings, then express the fuck out of them.
Do I wish I could change these things? Oh, absolutely!
But, at the same time, I am very accepting of every experience you and I have had, or for you, it’s more like I will have- because I would not be where I am today, and today? I fucking love myself, and so should you.
I write this for myself, not for fans, an audience, for a niche- but for me.
I write this for me, but also in hopes I have helped you too, somehow.
Writing this letter to myself really has helped open me up about my confidence in what I’m writing.
I severely struggle in battling a never-ending war with this procrastination, avoidance, perfectionism, repeat type cycle- where my critical brain and my creative brain constantly are fighting each other. Therefore, self-sabotage was born.
Self-sabotage is something that affects all of us, thought differently.
The way I see it is if I am struggling with these things or have struggled with these things, someone else out here has to be struggling with them, too.
