Prelude
The last time I wrote a letter to my younger self I was turning 23. Crazy how life has a way of coming full circle. Year 22 for me was a complete whirlwind. Transitioned from undergrad to adulthood, moved to an entirely new city without any family, lost my virginity, fell in love, was in an abusive relationship, and had my heart broken. Talk about crazy, I felt like the walls were crashing in on me and I managed to pick up the broken, jagged pieces quickly discarding of them and never entirely taking a close look at how to cut up my hands were never indeed taking in account the damage those broken pieces had caused. I told myself it was a messed up situation and continued with my false radical acceptance of “It is what it is.”
Fast forward to current day year 26. I’m in a loving relationship, graduate student, and working full time still trying to figure out life. Life became super overwhelming balancing school, work, relationships, and living with anxiety. I was so close to having a mental breakdown I decided to go to therapy. Therapy has been one of the best decisions I have ever made. I have been able to manage my stress and start to figure out the identity of Carrie. Revisiting those pieces, I thought I had discarded, facing them face forward by cleaning out my skeletal closet. Therapy has been the most fulfilling uncomfortable process ever, but the results have been so rewarding.
Honestly speaking my birthday this year I have been in this funk. I’ve reached a phase of burnout, and I’ve finally made an executive decision to rid myself of all of the things that suck the life out of me. I felt as if I was continually pouring into myself never experiencing what it’s like to have a cup half empty or half full. The things I was doing to try and cope were falling through, I was pouring into a bucket with no bottom, and everything continued to spill out into the floor. I was continually surviving in a state of anxiety that I eventually crashed. It was not until I sat in my therapist office pouring out to her exactly how I felt she said to me, “I’m not diagnosing you with depression. However, you are experiencing symptoms of depression”. Hearing those words hit me like a ton of bricks, November 9, 2018, approximately 13 days away from the 27th birthday I had to acknowledge the fact that I was overwhelmed, overworked, burnt out and mildly depressed. In an attempt to shake off these yucky feelings, here’s a letter to my younger self.
Dear 26
Girl, this has been quiet the year for you. You're finishing up on your masters degree, traveled several places, started therapy, and have embraced change with open arms. I am so proud of you for all of your hard work, although, I may not give you enough credit. You have ventured out to force yourself out of your comfort zone and doing all of the things that scare the sh!t out of you. Working tremendously to quite that nagging negative voice that often talks you out of doing things. You have learned that real strength lies within vulnerability — lowered your guard allowing yourself to give and receive love fully. I had this long drawn out letter I wanted to write but I prefer to keep it short and sweet. Twenty-six was a trying year. However, it has shown your real strength. Continue to move through life at the beat of your own drum. The world is yours and life has no choice but to show you favor!
With Lots of Love,
XoXo 27