An Honest Letter to the Child who is "Too Far Gone."

Dear Child,

I know you’re tired. Tired of hearing that you’re messed up, that you’re a misfit and a reject, that you can’t do anything right. Tired of trying--then failing, over and over to get over that one thing that holds you captive with no avail. Believing that you are just another wash up, and that nobody could want you as you are. Believing that your worth is simply the sum of your broken pieces; and frankly you’re shattered in fragments on the floor. Wishing that you could change; your situation, your environment, yourself. Wishing that you weren’t trapped in what seems to be a sinking pit of rendering despair.

I know you’re weary. Weary from struggling to hold up the lofty standards others have bestowed upon you. Weary from neglecting your well being in effort to preserve a fabricated and fictitious reality. Questioning why you seem to remain stagnant, when you’ve been ruthlessly attempting to advance. Questioning if anything really matters—in a time when anything can be stripped from your in a flash. Hoping that the hurts of this time won’t last forever. Hoping that you won’t become the manifestation of everything your critics said that you would.

I know that you feel like you’re ‘Too Far Gone.’ That nobody could ever fully understand the complex depths of your sorrow, the grave weight of your fury, or share in the guilt and shame that plagues every fiber of your existence. I realize that you’ve bought the enticing lie that if people knew the ‘authentic’ you, the ‘real’ you, that they would not want anything to do with you. That illegitimate truth you have rehearsed and replayed over and over in your cerebellum--just isn’t synonymous with an unadulterated reality.

I know that life has probably not turned out as you’d expected it would. And in a search for comfort and liberation, you’ve found yourself slipping into habits and behaviors that you aren’t proud of. For a ephemeral and fleeting moment you’ve gripped back control. Momentarily, you find solace—for a mindless minute that ‘fix’ is enough to get by. Though the stupor fades, and the crushing thoughts and culpability floods back in. Blame is internalized, magnified, and then self-criticized.

I know you’ve got a long way to go; that the journey is hard.

I know that your valley is deep, and that your climb is steep.

I know you feel buried and surrounded.

I know you’re wrestling to settle your breath.

I know that you’re more than a list of mistakes.

I know that you’re going to fall, but you’re going to get back up.

I know that you’ll mess up, and you’ll learn that it’s okay.

I know that your past doesn’t have to dictate your future.

I know that you’ll eventually celebrate the struggle.

I know that you won’t walk this road alone.

I know that you’ll eventually choose hope over anxiety.

I know that love will cover the lies.

I know that you’ll eventually forgive yourself.

I know that you’re not too far gone.

I know you’re going to make it.

I know that you’re not too far gone.

Sincerely,

The Child I once was.