Dear me, it's you, from the future. Will you become 80?

It's always hard to unplug someone. They're trapped in a web of layers, covering the infinite self. This is a letter to my past self.

Dear me,

You don’t know you’re 80 yet. You don’t know what’s coming. You have no idea where this will go. But I’m from the future, and I want you to know, that it’ll all be okay.

You have this tingle, and you know it.

It sits just above your chest, above your heart.

It keeps knocking.

It’s tapping you.

And yet, you’ll want to do more retail therapy. You think that this next camera, this next tool, this next thing will fill the hole that sits in your soul.

Again and again, this cycle will continue.

You’ll look for that hit.

You’ll chase fulfillment.

Yet every time, every single damn time, it goes away.

Then the knock comes back, but louder. You’ll turn your attention toward it, and it’ll give icky feels. It’ll be uncomfortable, and you’ll turn toward that next hit. You’ll seek Youtube channel subs, Instagram likes, followers, and friends.

And without fail, it will go away.

Knock knock.

I want you to know that your happiness and joy will be found when you answer the knock.

You’ll find excuses not to listen.

You’ll avoid the therapy appointment. It’s too hard to find one. It’s too hard to find the time.

When you finally do sit down with your therapist, you’ll deflect everything to avoid digging deep.

You’ll convince yourself that you are doing the work.

You’ll trick yourself into thinking that this is the issue.

You’ll stay at the superficial level.

I urge you to listen to that voice, then ask it to sit down.

Dig deep.

If you think you’re going deep, look even deeper.

Ask your therapist to push you beyond your limits. You have none.

Don’t waste your time week after week of just talking. It’s an illusion.

You’ll soon enough dive into an array of treatments and adventures. Don’t settle for just talk therapy. You can talk for the rest of your life and never go beneath the surface.

You’ll break yourself.

You’ll be in pieces.

You’ll get worse.

Then as you put the pieces back. You’ll find yourself. You’ll find your infinite power. You’ll find that you have always been celestial, trapped in a shell.

Free yourself.

You are 80.

Life is getting better

For a while, I got into a really dark place. I broke myself into pieces, and my family started to feel it.

It put a strain on my marriage, and it put a strain on my kids.

I’m on the other side of it, and working on the integration part.

Just today, I finally gave my oldest kid a real hug, one from my core, one as 80. I hope the short-term pain was worth the long-term love.

Please pass this along to anyone you think might benefit. I appreciate you. I love you.