Dear Mom,

Last week’s letter about compassion got me thinking about the ways in which we as a society tend to move on from the ugliness of our history. I’m pretty sure that many people would love to simply erase the past and pretend nothing happened. But forgiveness doesn’t require erasure. Moving forward doesn’t require a clean slate. Our history, our past, matters deeply. It is in the very fabric of who we are. Of our humanity. And inhumanity. 

So, how about when it comes down to a single person? How much does my past weigh on my future?

I’ve never been to a therapist as an adult. I could probably benefit from talking to a professional. But these letters have served a purpose for me. I have been able to process and grow and very much feel the permission to move forward. To in a sense, start my life anew.

And as I begin to think more about what moving forward looks like to me, I wonder what role my past plays on my present and on my future. I don’t want to live in the past. To allow it to dictate how I make decisions. But erasing it? Pretending nothing happened? That doesn’t feel helpful either. So how do I juggle the two sides of myself? My own history with my future. How do I stand strong in my current self while paying homage to my former self and not also dwelling on the past? I know, a lot of big questions that you probably don’t have the answers to. Though I don’t remember you dwelling on the past too often. If you did, you kept that to yourself. And if that’s the case? If you struggled with these ideas, I am sorry for not being a person you could confide in more. 

I’ve had to battle for years to find a way to believe in myself. It’s been an exhausting journey to unveil my confidence that had been buried deep within me. My current self feels secure. As if I truly know who I am now. But I am so far removed from who I used to be. Where I was unsure and inclined to self-sabotage, I am now confident and taking risks directly related to the belief I have in myself. Where I was unhappy with my physical body, I am now able to see my strength as beauty. And though I have made mostly positive changes, I don’t want to pretend that the negative aspects of my personality were all bad. Without my self-doubt I don’t think I could have this level of confidence. At least it wouldn’t feel as powerful.

It’s like when people say money can’t buy happiness. I think the only people who truly believe that are those who’ve always had money. Because the truth is, if you’ve struggled with money then a certain amount will most definitely buy happiness. Lack of money affords stress and worry. Not knowing how to pay the bills is miserable. Living paycheck to paycheck is scary. And I have a strong feeling that if I come into a large sum of money one day, I will be happy about it. It won’t make every problem go away, but it certainly will make the financial burdens disappear. Having money feels more valuable when you’ve experienced life without it.

In that same vein, I feel like personal strengths and wins are sweeter when we experience weakness and loss. And I have experienced weakness. I have experienced loss. Maybe not as much as others, but enough to appreciate the success.

My wins feel bigger due to my past losses. All of the bad moments of my life are a thread in my fabric. My foundation. And I’d be hollow without it.

We know that mistakes are necessary for growth. It’s why I will never stop telling Scotland to let her brother make mistakes. It’s the only way to learn. And I have learned an encyclopedia of information from my own mistakes. It’s these mistakes that make me who I am today.

As an example, I’m going to touch on the romantic relationships I’ve had during my life. Beyond the sex and friendships. The long-term couplings. 

As you know, I have had three serious relationships in my lifetime. That’s it. I had a boyfriend in high school. A boyfriend in undergrad. And a boyfriend in grad school who later became my husband. Each time I was madly in love. Each time it got better. And it wasn’t until I met Jeremy that I realized how dysfunctional the previous two were. Some may say one was particularly toxic. But with nothing to compare it to, it felt normal. And in a way, it is because of my past relationships that I could recognize the potential for true happiness when I met Jeremy. His way of seeing me, all of me, and loving me unconditionally was apparent due to the lack of that feeling in the past.

And because I allowed myself to be in unhealthy relationships before, and saw them as unproblematic in the moment, my identity was partly formed during those years. It’s easy for me to say now that I didn’t truly find myself until later, but that’s untrue. I think it’s only fair to accept the fact that the self I was back then directly grew into the self I am now. I’m not an entirely new person. I’m just layered. 

So, isn’t it fair to recognize the impact my past self has on my current self? And the importance my current self will have on my future self? 

Even if she, my past version, was at times weak and ignorant and naïve. Even if she wasn’t always my best moments. Representing so many mistakes and bad decisions. I wouldn’t be me without her. 

So how do I grow stronger out of my seeds of weakness. If my foundation is shaky and unsure, how do I stand tall because of it and not despite it?

I’m thinking that calling attention to it makes the most sense in my mind. Embracing it. Instead of moving on from it I’ll be moving on with it. Bringing my insecurities and issues and mistakes along for the ride, in an effort to make the ride more enjoyable. More impactful. 

I don’t want to overcome my past. I want to keep it as a significant part of me. 

Let’s go back to relationships. I can sit here and pick apart my past romantic relationships. There were many problems within the couplings. There were many years where I felt lost. As if I was becoming a sliver of myself. Molding myself into an image that fit the boyfriend’s idea of a perfect girl. And I strived to be perfect in that way. But I was deeply flawed in actuality. So, the perfection I was striving for was false no matter what. It was a façade. And I very much felt empty inside. Looking back, since I’ve now been in a healthy relationship for over a decade, I can see the truth. That I was a shell. I wasn’t me. I actively stood in my own way. Sometimes I feel like maybe my growth was stunted during those years. I could only go so far in life with shackles around my ankles. And it took me so many years to shed that skin and move forward. But still, pretending it never happened can’t serve me in the long run. Knowing where I came from and how far I’ve traveled allows me to appreciate the current life I have and the current person I am. 

It really all boils down to regret. And I don’t want to spend too much time talking about regret today. That’s its own topic and it deserves its own letter. But it feels impossible to skip over regret entirely when talking about growth.

What I’m learning is that regretting my past doesn’t help. It happened. What’s the point of wishing it hadn’t. And listen, I will always regret some of it. I will regret not changing things sooner. I will regret making decisions that weren’t right for me and ultimately put people around me first when they weren’t looking out for my best interest. But again, it happened. I can’t change that. And wallowing in the past doesn’t help me prepare for my future.

I want to walk the rest of my life with my past self by my side. She is important to me. Her low self-esteem. Her disgust for her body. Her questionable decisions. Her desire to self-sabotage while simultaneously obtain approval from those around her. Her drinking and drug habits. Her lack of care for self and for belongings. Her narrow world view. Her lack of understanding of the severity of a lack of responsibility. 

She is me. I am her. 

My former self was too often ignorant. Too trusting when there were clear red flags. Too drunk. Too insecure. She was selfish but not due to self-love. She lived her life with no regrets but didn’t understand what that meant.

Maybe I struggle with holding up that past version of myself as important because I know deep down that she didn’t love or respect herself. And I’ve been actively disrespecting her as well. Teasing her. Making fun of her flaws. I think I’ve resented her lack of follow through and poor decision-making skills. I’ve been inclined to blame her for getting me into vulnerable situations that led to total disaster.

But she was broken. Fragile. Couldn’t stand up for herself. And I think she knew it. She hid herself from the world to minimize the impact of the pain. So, when she was hurt it was only on the outside. 

You used to tell me that I wore too much makeup and that it looked terrible. It was caked on. It did look awful. I can admit that. But my response to you was that I didn’t care. That I didn’t care how I looked. The truth is that I very much cared how I looked. I cared so deeply that I took every precaution to cover myself up. To hide. The more I caked on my outer appearance, the more I could hide my true self. Protect my inner self.

I invented entire personas to cover up my pain. I wore hooded sweatshirts in the middle of the summer and said it was my style but really it was my act of covering up my body.

I wore ridiculous makeup and clothes and crazy jewelry and sunglasses and said that was also my style when I was trying to take the focus off of me.

I straightened my hair. I dyed my hair. I wore clothes that I didn’t like. I tried heels. I dated people who liked to remind me of my flaws. Mainly my physical ones. I conformed to the image that was required of me by people who claimed to love me. And in return, I was kept from having friends. From making new friends. I was accused of stepping out. I was humiliated publicly. I was spit at. I was warned.

That self? She was wrong. All wrong. She was the version of me that went down the path of least resistance. Who was complacent and said yes when no was flashing on a neon sign above his head. Why did I stay? Why didn’t I follow my dreams? Why did I allow myself to diminish? None of that matters now. It happened. I grew from it. Grew out of it.

I need to forgive myself. Without erasing her. Stop being so hard on myself for making bad decisions in my past. And in my present and future, because I’m not going to pretend that I am done making poor choices. I will never grow out of mistake making. It’s human. But I can grow out of regretting those mistakes. Right?

Did you ever? In the end, did you cut yourself some slack? Allow yourself peace from your mistakes? I truly hope so.

I think where I am struggling is with the idea that I can let go of things that happened to me because I recognize the significance of those moments in the person I have become, but I can’t let go of the things I did. The mistakes I made. The bad decisions that were conscious. Those moments I hold onto. I regret and wish things could be different. But who is that serving?

The main theme here is that I want to forgive myself. To be gentle with myself. To not regret my past self entirely.

That’s it. Regretting my past decisions makes me feel like I’m really regretting my past self. And she deserves better than that. Again, she was damaged. She was broken in so many ways. She couldn’t see straight. She was unhappy. She was taken advantage of. She was selfish. She was inconsiderate. She was wasteful. She was apologetic. She was timid. She was scared. She was scary. She was doubtful. She felt ugly. She felt fat. She felt unseen. She felt invisible. She felt numb. She felt like an imposter. She felt wrong. 

None of that means she was a monster. None of that means she didn’t have a right to exist. None of that means she didn’t have real significance. 

Because ultimately, she is me. I am her. I would not exist as I am today without her. She was my launching pad. My seed. My foundation. And as shaky and unstable as that was, I did grow from that place. I did learn from her mistakes. From my mistakes. And regretting her isn’t fair. It isn’t right. I love her. Deeply. I guess my only wish is that she would have loved herself. And that is my one true regret.  

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel