It was only a dream...

Well, look at that. I used to write. 

It's been ten years. How can that be? So much has happened since then. I've spent the last few days rereading old posts, having randomly thought to go back and look. Honestly, it feels as though it was all written by someone else. Someone I used to know a long time ago. Someone I just want to gather in my arms and hug until she squeaks. Because I think she really needed a hug.

Today I am objectively happier in every possible way. Of course there are things that aren't perfect, but life is never perfect. I had almost convinced myself that things really weren't that hard before. That things were always pretty okay, and any pang of anxiety about the past was simply a bit of passing melodrama. 

But looking back - REALLY looking back, I realize that thinking that way isn't fair to that girl who just wanted to figure it out and make everything okay. I realize that I can't minimize the journey, or take for granted the peace and the security that she worked so hard to find. I still spend a significant amount of energy on gratitude, but it's usually for the salient daily happenings. Rarely is it for the perseverance and bravery that girl showed by never giving up. She was so alone. That is what sticks out now. She was so, so alone.

The anxiety is still there, but it's a dull hum that doesn't stand up to rational thinking. Medication helps. Experience and wisdom help. Success helps. And not being alone anymore...well, it's kind of like having a tight collar loosened at the end of the longest day. You can still feel that it was there, but you can finally relax and take a deep breath.

I'm still kind of neurotic. I still lack the confidence of someone native to success. I'm still afraid that if I don't maintain control, everything just might fall apart. I don't think those things will ever go away. But I don't feel completely overwhelmed and beaten terribly often. I don't wonder how I'll keep it together until next week, next month, or next year. I rarely cry.

I used to keep a sticky note on my monitor at work. It had three letters - "IFP". 

"I Feel Pretty"

I needed to be reminded to give myself a bit of a break. To not always be so hard on myself.

Perhaps I need a new note. "IWFT".

I worked for this. 

I worked so hard. And I earned this life of relative luxury. 

Thanks, former me. You're pretty awesome. Come here and let me give you a hug.