Rachel is a Jewish bisexual autistic woman (she/her) with ADHD in her twenties. She loves writing and can always be found with her nose in a book! Her plan for the future is to earn her Psy. D. in clinical psychology. This interested in psychology started as a way to help her understand people better and to figure out what it was about others I kept not getting. It is also something deeply linked with her self-advocacy. There is a gap in communication between the autistic community and providers, and she want to help bridge it and challenge others to see things from different perspectives.
View all postsLetter to Myself
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Dear Rachel,
I think I always put too much pressure on you, now more than ever. You always need to be better than I currently am. That’s a heavy weight to shoulder, most of all when it comes from yourself.
I keep trying to be kinder to my past self, but I need to remember to be kinder to you as well. It’s harder to keep that in mind than it is with past me. Past me was a person who existed. Who she was, what her choices and actions were, are immutable and cannot be changed. Thus, in my mind, she is deserving of sympathy. She requires understanding because there is nothing left to do except understand her choices and move on. She cannot be bargained with, cannot be threatened, cannot be reasoned with. So, I can only ever hope to accept her.
But you haven’t been written yet. You can still do things differently. You can still be a better person. Of course I want that for you.
At the end of the day, I just want you to be happy. Hopefully even happier than I am now. I want everything for you that I don’t have yet.
But wanting the best for you is hardly altruistic. And it puts all the work on your shoulders. Every night I go to bed hoping you’ll pick up all the slack I’ve left for you. I promise myself I’ll stop that bad habit, but even that promise is writing a check I’m expecting you to be the one to cash.
To be kind to you should be as simple as being kind to myself, but selfishly I want to keep pushing you. Because I want you to be better than I am now. Isn’t that what everyone wants for their future self?
You’re going to be in grad school soon. I know it’s not going to be easy. I worry for you, I can’t lie. I don’t want you to regret the decisions I’m making.
I know you’ll do your best, I just hope that giving your best isn’t too hard on you. I need to have faith in you, have faith in myself, but the worry persists.
You have plenty to look forward to, of course. I love my parents, but I don’t love suburban life. Moving back to the city will be a welcome change. I know you’ll enjoy that, if nothing else.
I’m just glad that after all this time, I’m finally taking steps forward towards a new future. Even if I’m scared, I’m doing this because I want you to have better circumstances in the future. I hope that in the coming years your vision of a career path will be clearer than mine is now.
I also hope you still get to travel more in the future. I know grad school will be a big investment, and that money could get a little tighter, but travel is too important to me. I know you’ll have to find a way to make it work. There I go again, putting those expectations on you. But, sometimes, what choice do I have?
I could come up with so many more fantastical predictions of what I hope the future holds for you, as I have done so many times before. But what future self wants to read a letter that will inevitably be full of so many broken predictions? I want to try releasing you from the tyranny of my own expectations, for once.
So, I will leave you with only this hope for the road ahead: I hope you are happy.
Sincerely,
Me