letters to a crook
This letter was inspired by Johnnie Elyse on Instagram (IG: johnnie.elyse) and her Letters To A Crook project. She encouraged followers to write a letter to their illness and she would pick some to put in a book to be published. Once again, this is something that takes me deep out of my comfort zone but I felt such a peaceful feeling after writing it. She prompted you to write the letter but in the end, let that illness know that they would not win. So here's my letter to anxiety...
Dear Anxiety,
I know that you typically dominate the conversation, you decide when it begins and when it ends. You decide if it’s a full blown conversation or just a quick chat. You decide the time and the place. You’ve ruined nights, family gatherings, work, and my relationships. You are a toxic friend whom I’ve tried so hard to ignore but whose presence I’ve felt the strongest. You’ve caused me to hide under my covers as an adult, cancel plans that I wanted to keep and have complete breakdowns. You were the reason I kept my children in the house on a beautiful spring weekend because I was too frightened to leave. You were the reason I dropped 50 lbs in 5 months last year because I threw up after every meal, that is if I had decided to eat that day. You were the reason I would have to wear long sleeves in the middle of summer because after the more intense conversations with you I would scratch my wrists and forearms so badly that it had appeared I had tried to give some feral cats a bath. You were the reason that some nights I would lay in bed imagining the taste of metal in my mouth. You were the reason I would fall asleep to the phrases, “I hate you so much” and “You are a piece of shit” playing like a broken record in my head. I blame you for the constant need to compare myself to everyone I come into contact with - for thinking I’m not smart enough, pretty enough, artistic enough, thin enough, delicate enough and just all around not good enough to walk amongst my peers. But I’ve always taught my children that we don’t use the word hate and I can’t make an exception for myself - I don’t hate you. You pushed me towards this letter, you allowed me to find my voice and attempt to use it. You taught me that even though I may never get rid of you, I can learn to tolerate you and maybe even work with you. I can use you for good. I can let you be my fuel for a 3 mile run on a crisp fall morning. I can allow you to sit beside me while I work through a yoga flow. I can let our friendship be a beacon for others so that they can learn to build a relationship with their demon. I can take the upper hand in this friendship. I may not invite you to the party but I can decide when it’s time for you to leave. I don’t hate you. You are a part of me and I’m not ashamed of you anymore. If someone can’t love me because you are part of my life, then they don’t deserve me. I am friends with anxiety but that doesn’t define me. I am a wonderful person, mother, partner, and friend. You have bent me, pulled me and stepped on me but you’ll never break me and I will be okay.
love me.
Dear Anxiety,
I know that you typically dominate the conversation, you decide when it begins and when it ends. You decide if it’s a full blown conversation or just a quick chat. You decide the time and the place. You’ve ruined nights, family gatherings, work, and my relationships. You are a toxic friend whom I’ve tried so hard to ignore but whose presence I’ve felt the strongest. You’ve caused me to hide under my covers as an adult, cancel plans that I wanted to keep and have complete breakdowns. You were the reason I kept my children in the house on a beautiful spring weekend because I was too frightened to leave. You were the reason I dropped 50 lbs in 5 months last year because I threw up after every meal, that is if I had decided to eat that day. You were the reason I would have to wear long sleeves in the middle of summer because after the more intense conversations with you I would scratch my wrists and forearms so badly that it had appeared I had tried to give some feral cats a bath. You were the reason that some nights I would lay in bed imagining the taste of metal in my mouth. You were the reason I would fall asleep to the phrases, “I hate you so much” and “You are a piece of shit” playing like a broken record in my head. I blame you for the constant need to compare myself to everyone I come into contact with - for thinking I’m not smart enough, pretty enough, artistic enough, thin enough, delicate enough and just all around not good enough to walk amongst my peers. But I’ve always taught my children that we don’t use the word hate and I can’t make an exception for myself - I don’t hate you. You pushed me towards this letter, you allowed me to find my voice and attempt to use it. You taught me that even though I may never get rid of you, I can learn to tolerate you and maybe even work with you. I can use you for good. I can let you be my fuel for a 3 mile run on a crisp fall morning. I can allow you to sit beside me while I work through a yoga flow. I can let our friendship be a beacon for others so that they can learn to build a relationship with their demon. I can take the upper hand in this friendship. I may not invite you to the party but I can decide when it’s time for you to leave. I don’t hate you. You are a part of me and I’m not ashamed of you anymore. If someone can’t love me because you are part of my life, then they don’t deserve me. I am friends with anxiety but that doesn’t define me. I am a wonderful person, mother, partner, and friend. You have bent me, pulled me and stepped on me but you’ll never break me and I will be okay.
love me.
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