Dear Past Nickey,
You’re broken, and that’s okay.
I know you’re struggling, trying to understand why your mind creates the scenarios that it does. I know that you’re walking through life, and sometimes you have days where you’re utterly broken. You feel as though your life no longer has any sense of meaning, and you’re falling apart at the seams. No one is there for you in your mind, because if they were, they’d know how to help you get out of this hole you fell in. The truth is, you dug this hole yourself. Your mind is forcing itself to break in two. You’re your own worst enemy.
But that’s not your fault.
Someone should have told you that you have anxiety, and you should have been sent to a doctor to be diagnosed. Waiting until you were 20 wasn’t fair to you. You shouldn’t have had to wait to get that diagnosis that you guessed you had due to weeks of research. At the beginning of high school, you learned that anxiety is an actual mental illness. But you didn’t know how, why, or what exactly to do with it. You knew how it started—from all the bullying. You knew it got worse as you got older, and you developed anxiety’s closest sibling, depression. You knew things were wrong, but when you talked to people, no one seemed to understand or listen to you, including your parents. I know all of that is severely unfair to you. I know it looks bad for you. But this is the world you were born into. It’s a life full of unfair paths and decisions, forcing yourself to hide away and act terrified.
It caused your relationships to crumble underneath your feet. You truly didn’t know why you were always dealing with trust issues between you and your friends, why you’d think everyone was trying to hurt you, why you believed that everyone lied to you when they said they cared. You felt as though the longer you talked, the more they hated you. You became afraid of everyone and their lies.
But you didn’t understand why no one else dealt with these differences. They never seemed to share your concerns or your fears. You couldn’t understand why your first panic attack was over a boy. You had a panic attack during your driver’s license test, which caused you to fail and re-take it six weeks later—which caused another panic attack of course. You stressed yourself out about going to new events, going to new classes or places, hanging with people you’d known for years. Hell, anytime a social situation came up, you were panicking. All those years ago, you were so positive, and over time, that optimism you displayed has slowly diminished.
Let me just remind you that this wasn’t something you can’t prevent from happening. Anxiety is in your family. You didn’t know this for years. You didn’t know it was a disorder back then, you just thought you were worried more than an average person. You’d constantly ask people if they hated you, you’d worry if what you said was wrong, you’d find your leg shaking a million miles a minute in the middle of class, and you were unable to stop yourself from thinking the absolute worst in people.
I know that nothing will change the past. I know that you will forever be scarred by the issues you endured, the friendships that dissolved, the built up pressure in your chest, the constant mood swings and headaches, appetite issues, problems breathing, sleeping, working and even being happy. I just wish someone had told you about this.
I wish someone had told you that you could get better instead of just telling you that you had to stop worrying. Everyone would tell you, “It’s not all about you,” when you asked why someone was upset or angry. I wish someone would have treated you better and held your hand and didn’t push you away because you’re different. That wasn’t fair. That was never fair. Your mind was born broken. Your upbringing was torn asunder. Your friends and family and doctors always believed you weren’t telling the truth.
Well, I believe you. I believe you were genuinely concerned and confused about how your mind was working. I believe you needed help to cope and no one taught you. I believe that if someone had sat down and told you that you have generalized anxiety, depression, and a behavioral disorder—which comes with anxiety—that would have been when you could have started learning how to better yourself. But now, at 22, with a warped sense of the world, medications, the coping mechanisms, therapy, relaxations, all of these things in mind; you’re still broken. No longer do activities like music or theatre or even writing distract your mind for long enough.
Your future self wants you to be better not only to help but also to show others that kids are capable of being diagnosed with disorders. Anxiety doesn’t always manifest later on. But you were ripped apart, made to believe you didn’t matter, you’re ugly, you’re worthless, you’re not nice or funny or cool, and you’re bad at everything you do, when in reality, you’ve just never been able to have any self-worth because it was destroyed at the young age of only five. No one tells a five-year-old they have anxiety.
But someone should have told you a lot sooner.
And maybe one day all the work you’ve been putting into working on yourself will finally pay off. But for now, you’ve had a lifelong battle. And unfortunately, it’s going to continue. I’m sorry no one believed you. I’m sorry no one was truly there for you. I’m sorry. But I believe you. I’m there for you.
And I’ll be there for all the other people who were struggling for a lifetime. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. But I’m trying now. I’ll continue to try for you.
Love,
Future Nickey