I was concerned that it might be hard for me to show up for you in a way that shows love. It feels like there is a force field separating me and the rest of the world right now and I don't want you to be on the other side of it.

I couldn't figure out what else to do so I decided I would write you this letter.

I suppose I was afraid it would seem like I wasn't trying. Like I didn't love you enough to make the effort. Enough to fight through it. In that sense, I guess this letter is just as much for my feelings as it is for you. Either way, I hope you feel a little bit more love than if I didn't write it.

Here are a few thoughts I've had about you in the last few days.

I'm really proud of you.

I think about the times you cry because of how happy you feel about your life and I feel proud.

You model strength and virtue and I'm grateful I get to see your life up close.

You, Anthony and Freyja make a beautiful family.

You show so much love and care for the people (and doggo) in your life.

I love that you're challenging yourself to do scary things and making the most of it.

I hope you are able to get the things that you need right now.

I'm grateful you're willing to be here for me. I feel uneasy about dumping my feelings of helplessness on you, but if you're going to keep sticking around while I feel this way, I imagine it's at least better for you to know how I'm feeling.

I feel scared and hopeless and the pain of it makes me want to disappear.

I don't feel in control and it hurts to feel like the architect of my own wounds.

I'm scared I may never feel like a functional human for a meaningful period of time.

I worry I'll never be able to keep a job.

I worry I'll never feel secure enough to stay settled and have a family.

I feel selfish.

I feel trapped in my body.

This feels stupid and unnecessary.

Ahhhh! I want to say I'm over it and I'm fine now. I don't see anything in my way of simply being okay. But it doesn't feel true. It feels like a knife's edge between content and wishing my own erasure.

I'm not sure where to go from here.

It feels like I don't actually want to get better, and I don't know how you help someone who doesn't want to get better.

This no longer feels like the letter I originally wanted to write.

Best friend. This sucks.

I imagine the ways this is a tax on you too. And I'm not the only thing happening in your life. I'm grateful for the ways you're still able to be here.

Thank you for being the parts that don't suck.

I love you and I miss you. I hope I can find my way back to being your best friend.