Dear 16 year old, anorex*c me,

That fucking, skinny bitch.

Let me preface (also can someone let me know what the fuck preface means) by saying that, when I was still with The Ex, I learned one of my very messed up coping skills. On our really bad nights – the nights when we had screamed at each other until our voices were raw and the cops would be called to make sure there was no dOmEsTic violence – that would end would be sobbing myself to sleep, a way to prevent a full blown, chest pain present panic attack was to talk to my younger self.

Also, this sounds crazy but I’m telling you – do not knock it unless you tried it. (Can I therapist way in on this?! Is this healthy or??)

Unless you had a good childhood with no childhood trauma, then you’re younger self would be very fucking disturbed to hear where you are now.

But my childhood was the good ole 90s, so I know we are all a bit traumitized and have very poor coping skills.

“…. my childhood was the good ole 90s… we are all a bit traumatized and have poor coping skills.”

“To circle back,” my 16-year-old self was probably more troubled than I am now, although it feels really quite similar. Just a silly girl wishing a stupid boy would love her like the movies make it seem like. Also because I really fucking relate to Olivia Rodrigo’s albums at all of these ages, so I know that we will forever connect at each stage of life over a broken heart by a silly boy.

Also can I PREFACE as well that tonight’s montage began when I was looking in my mirror tonight. I did not even recognize myself – instead I saw 16 year old me, skin and bones with dark circles under her eyes, staring straight back. (Turns out my IBS may be a little more than irritable and I have been having severe issues after eating, therefore making me look like I used to when I would do that shit on purpose.)

Okay, anyways, no more prefaces and here we go.

Dear past self,

Little tiny 16-year-old me.

Life’s fucked up man. It’s exactly 16 years later but it feels like nothing has changed.

Oh you can stop starving yourself though – your OCD never let’s those intrusive thoughts go so calorie counting is still a big part of your life, you’ve just learned to do it in what they call a “healthy societal way.” But you do learn to love your body and find that our curves is what makes us so attractive! It makes us strong and gives us the energy we need, and it is all so well deserved.

You did start meds though! So that’s a big step. However, has it helped anything at all? Because we are still sitting here at 11:45 pm, in the back yard, with our knees to our chest, staring at the stars. Wondering when it will be our time.

We have notoriously put so many other people’s happiness above our own, but not in a selfless, do good for all kind of way. There is such a selfish deed behind it. See, nobody asks you to do that for them. They are just drawn to you because you do it for them. But, deep down, you always wish they’ll do it back for you.

Do you ever learn to voice this? You’re asking. Do you ever learn a healthy boundary?

Girl no, or else I wouldn’t be sitting here writing a dumb ass letter to you.

But I think writing will help us maybe, one day, reach that boundary.

Because the problem with doing selfless deeds with selfish intentions, is your ugly side always comes out. You cannot hold the same expectations for those who do not have expectations for you. Just because we do those nice things for everyone, just because we are there for them and listen to them, does not mean they are required to do the same for us.

And, as much as we can argue, that’s just a healthy boundary.

We just haven’t quite mastered it yet.

It’s worse in our personal relationships. The boyfriends or family or friends. We feel as if we could just give them our entire heart and two kidneys if they asked for it, but yet get spiteful when they don’t offer their exact heart and two kidneys back to you.

What they do offer instead is maybe their gallbladder or colon. In their mind, that’s their way of showing you that they love you; they know you have stomach issues and causes you distress, and they want to take that away.

But they didn’t say their heart and two kidneys. I would give everything for them, I would give them my literal heart.

And that’s where our unstable anger comes from. Why would they just give me a gallbladder when I would give my entire heart?

“but their way of showing love is different from yours.”

How fucked up is that thinking, am I right. They are literally willing to give you something to make your life more bearable and to not literally kill themselves so you can enjoy life together. Their own way of showing their love, just different from yours.

I’m not sure where we get this way of processing things, but we got to make it better.

We’re trying out a new relationship. Yeah, you got married AND divorced before age 28 so add that to the chopping block. I am sure you are at the point that you lay in bed every night, marking on your wall days until graduation and you were ‘free’, after everything with Hick Boy (story time coming soon). But I assure you, those nights are not over. It just turned into The Ex making you feel that way instead of Hick Boy and your parents.

But we are trying out the dating game and boy does it make these behaviors so apparent. The constant change of emotions and knowing that they love you but your mind telling you, “but what about their kidneys?”

You have got to learn how to accept others love languages and lose your psychotic expectations. It will, quite literally, ruin every relationship of yours if you left it. And you’ll be left completely by yourself, sitting at your kitchen island, collecting all of your extra cat hair to needle felt ornaments for your family Christmas. (Look I’m at a low point in my life okay.)

It’s funny how these things cycle. We’re in another cycle. (Isn’t it bipolar where you have high and low cycles??)

Rinse and repeat.

Anyways, the fun part is usually what follows these cycles – the self pity, why does no one love me because they do not show me the exact replica of love in return, lay outside and count the stars pity – is a small boost of confidence. (Girl, bipolar, I ‘m telling you and so is your psychiatrist, it’s okay, meds help). So I know, a day or two after writing this letter, I’ll read it back and think “holy shit she’s crazy”. Until the next cycle.

Rinse and repeat.

Le’ts keep this letter thing up until we figure out to break the cycle, sound good?

Anyways, I love you little girl and I promise that everything you experience turns you into who we are today.

Tata for now until our next low cycle,

❤ Double D

P.S. You still haven’t stopped shitting your pants.