Letter to myself:
You had a scary year in 2021.
You discovered how fragile and vulnerable you could be…
Although you didn’t get the virus, you did experience what it means to have anxiety and panic attacks. You forgave yourself for your inability to focus on your writing and instead you kept telling yourself that “this too shall pass.”
Your dreams at night frightened you and that’s okay… You sought medical help when normally you would rely on your strength to get you through. After all, you were diagnosed with 6 months to live in 2008 so anxiety and panic attacks are nothing compared to the fear you overcame and the healing you did thirteen years ago.
I love you for your newfound sensitivity to emotional and mental illness. I think it’s a lesson you needed to learn. And I’m proud of you for the last month of 2021 when you finally gained control, wrote the first draft of a new memoir, and openly shared your struggle with the world.
And you never lost sight of your mantra:
I love and approve of myself exactly the way I am, but I am willing to change.