“A Letter to the Person I Was at the Start”
You didn’t ask for this.
You didn’t see it coming.
And when your vision blurred, when the world warped — no one gave you a map.
So here you are.
Trying to fix something you didn’t break.
Trying to regulate something you didn’t realize was out of control.
This one’s for you — the person I was when it all started.
Dear Me,
You’re not crazy.
That flickering in your vision, the way light feels too sharp, the odd pressure behind your eyes — it’s real.
It’s not anxiety.
It’s not imaginary.
It’s not just “in your head.”
But yes, it is your nervous system.
Yes, it is cortisol.
And yes, it is recoverable.
I know you want to find the fix — the food, the supplement, the treatment, the article.
But the truth is, the fix won’t be found in a product.
It will be found in your rhythm.
In your rest.
In the way you learn to stop treating your body like a problem to solve, and start treating it like a signal to respect.
You’ll come to understand things like:
- Why skipping meals wrecks your stability
- Why loud noises and harsh lights make you feel unsafe
- Why “stress” isn’t just a feeling — it’s a chemical flood
- And why every shortcut only takes you further from the exit
And when you start to rebuild?
You’ll go slower than you like.
You’ll relapse. You’ll get frustrated.
But you’ll also begin to feel moments of true peace — not the kind you chase, but the kind your body settles into on its own.
What I Wish I Knew Then
- You don’t need to earn rest
- You don’t need to push to feel valuable
- Cortisol is not your enemy — it’s your compass
- And your body is not broken — it’s brilliant, and it’s trying to protect you
The real work wasn’t fixing my eyes.
The real work was learning to see myself — clearly, kindly, and without urgency.
To Anyone Reading This
If you’re where I was — scared, confused, Googling through the night —
Let me say this plainly:
You are not alone.
You are not weak.
And you are not beyond repair.
Cortisol tried to warn you before it broke you.
CSR was just the only language left that your body had to scream, “Please slow down.”
So now, you listen.
Now, you breathe.
Now, you rebuild — not to return to the old version of you,
but to become the one that never burns out again just to feel alive.
Series complete.
But your recovery?
Still unfolding — quietly, beautifully, and one breath at a time.
