XOXO, Vi

Dear Future Me

Today, I went to my first therapy session. It was hard. I felt embarrassed in front of the doctor as she sat across from me, listening and watching me like a science experiment beneath a microscope. My voice was barely a whisper. My hands shook. I wished I were anywhere but there.

At that moment, I hated everyone. Luca, for breaking not only my heart, but my will to live.

Mom and Dad, for forcing me to go to the appointment.

Lyric, for interrupting me at the party Saturday night.

Shaw, for not being home that weekend. Cannon…

for so many reasons. And myself, for being weak and letting this breakup drop me into an abyss I can’t find my way out of.

It isn’t fair to my parents—or Lyric and Shaw.

They were and are only trying to help. Shaw had to work, and she’s so torn up over not being there this past weekend.

I don’t actually hate anyone, not even Luca or Cannon.

It’s just jumbled up in my head, and I can’t figure out anything right now.

It was bad enough I had to make that call to my ex and tell him to stop all contact.

I wasn’t strong enough to block him. A part of me got a sick, twisted thrill each time I saw his name on my screen.

Because I could imagine the distraught expression on Luca’s face as he felt that gut-punched sensation when I declined his call or refused to acknowledge his texts.

But then the guilt would flood in, along with the hurt and the anger. All the reasons why Luca was no longer mine would tear me open all over again, and I would let the darkness take a firmer hold.

The cycle was unhealthy—I knew that even as I let it happen. Day after day, it became my new routine. Unhealthy, feeding the hurt and the rage, tearing a new hole in my heart.

Luca on my screen.

The pain in my chest trying to rip me apart.

The rage burning through my veins, boiling until I thought my brain would explode.

Not telling anyone about the unbearable noise in my head that got louder and louder.

Shaw, watching at parties as I drank too much and made out with whatever random guy gave me the right kind of smile.

Waking up with the worst hangover and promising myself that I wouldn’t let it happen again.

Only to break that promise before the end of the night.

Over and over, until there was no more light left, I faded from the Vi I thought I was into a version that I didn’t recognize.

Today was the first step to becoming a new version of myself, one I hope, one day, in a year or even a decade, I can look back on and think, “Fuck, I was so reckless and stupid. But I got through it. I survived. And now I’m a better, stronger person because of it.”

Right now, I don’t even know how that will be possible.

The pain that lives inside me won’t ease, no matter what I do.

My first session with the therapist didn’t magically fix anything.

Honestly, I feel worse now than I did before I spoke with her.

Everything feels scraped raw, maybe worse than when I saw Luca at Thanksgiving and he told me he was going to be a dad.

What I do know is that giving up isn’t an option…no matter how badly I wish it were.

I can’t stop fighting for that better version.

As homework, my therapist wants me to start writing lists.

What I’m feeling, what I hope to accomplish, where I see myself in the future.

She said to make short- and long-term goals.

Start small and then aim for bigger rewards.

But I know myself well enough to understand that simple lists won’t be enough to hold myself accountable.

That’s why I’m writing my future self this letter.

So, Future Me, here are a few things we’re going to do.

Some I’ll roll my eyes at when I read this letter again, some I might have issues accomplishing.

There might be setbacks, things that are out of my control, but even if something knocks me sideways, I’m going to promise here and now that I’ll find a way out of the darkness.

Now, pay attention. It’s important.

Stop feeling guilty for feeling what I feel, when I feel it. Let people see when I’m feeling weak. Allow them to help me. This one is a hard one, I know, but I’m going to fucking try!

Learn to live for today, not tomorrow. For too long, I was focused on the future, that ultimate endgame.

Gods, I am too young to have been thinking about what I pictured the ultimate happily-ever-after would be.

Now I’m so far from happy, I don’t even know what it would look like if I saw it.

I sure as hell wouldn’t believe it. Live in the moment, damn it, and stop ignoring the present.

Endgame is no longer a part of my vocabulary.

Be happy. Whatever that looks like, don’t question it—just be fucking happy!

Love again. Yeah, I know. That seems crazy, but I want that more than anything.

I want to love and be loved. Don’t settle for scraps of affection.

Do not fucking allow there to be limits or rules.

I did that with Luca, and while I understood why, it felt like I couldn’t really show him everything in my heart because I had too many restrictions.

Good luck.

XOXO,

Vi