Dear Past Self

Summary

A person reflects on their childhood experiences of fear and terror, particularly due to a volatile and abusive father, and reassures their past self that life improves with time, leading to personal growth and a sense of courage.

Abstract

The author recounts a childhood filled with nameless fears and a recurring nightmare of a menacing figure, exacerbated by a father with untreated bipolar disorder whose unpredictable anger and violence created an environment of constant terror. Despite these challenges, the author conveys a message of hope to their younger self, emphasizing that as they grow older and gain independence, they will feel safer and discover an inner courage. This courage will enable them to take significant risks, such as moving far from home for education, and will shape their compassionate approach to life, advocating for those who are disempowered or marginalized.

Opinions

The author believes their father's abusive behavior was due to his undiagnosed and untreated bipolar disorder.
They suggest that their father may have been repeating the cycle of abuse he experienced in his own childhood, which he never discussed.
The author expresses that while the world's dangers do not diminish, their perception of safety improves as they grow older and gain autonomy.
They hold the view that their early experiences with fear equipped them to take calculated risks and act courageously in life.
The author sees their past struggles as foundational to their later role as a champion for the vulnerable, finding purpose in providing comfort and advocacy.

Dear Past Self

it’s going to get better . . .

author’s photo

I know you’re afraid almost all the time, nameless terrors, monsters, unspeakable forces out to get you. You have that recurring dream, the one in which there’s a long figure that is as tall as the ceiling in your bedroom, the one in the corner that goes just above the corner where the rain stain is. Your Dad has told you to go upstairs and get ready for bed, and you go up, put your hand on the light switch, and you freeze. You cannot turn on the light. You cannot scream. In the corner is the tall-to-the-ceiling figure, all black, featureless. It starts to move. It’s coming closer to you. You can’t breathe. Noone comes to help, to save you . . .

You never had an ending to that dream. Sometimes when you were that little, around 3 years old, you might wake up in your parents’ bed and wonder how you got there. Maybe it was on one of those nights, maybe you ended up being able to scream after all. Occasionally, you’d have the same dream, only it took place in the kitchen.

Those early years were filled with dread and terror. It was not helpful to have a father who was bi-polar and whose rages were terrifying, especially if you were the target of his anger. You tried and tried to figure out how to behave, what to do or not do so as to elicit his favor rather than his ire, but for such a long time you couldn’t figure out what would result in his fury or not. It was not helpful when he hit you while you lay sleeping in your crib because you had kicked your blankets off. I guess he decided that you had kicked them off to defy or annoy him. Sometimes you would run through the house trying to get away from him as he chased you to hit you for some infraction or other, and you’d be looking for your mother who might protect you. If you found her, say, standing at the kitchen sink, you would throw yourself at her legs, clinging to them for dear life as he circled like some wild animal to get to you but she would shield you. It’s just that too often you couldn’t find her and you were without protection. I don’t think he really knew how terrified you were of him. Your mother and sister would mentioned his “temper,” but you didn’t get the impression that they were terrified like you were. Only once do you remember a look on his face that, much later, you interpreted as his realizing suddenly that you were terrified, and that was once as he was getting ready to hit you and you stood in front of him and peed on the floor in the dining room. I think your loss of control might have brought home to him that he had an impact and that frightening you so might be damaging. But that’s just my interpretation.

I don’t think he knew how damaging his behavior was. Loving one minute, a monster the next. I suppose he was doing to you what had been done to him. I can only guess because he would never tell any of us anything about his childhood. Just that he lied about his age and ran away from home when he was 16 and joined the Navy and was in the 1st World War. It wasn’t until much later, long after he’d died, when my mother told me about his being bi-polar, undiagnosed and untreated.

So I want you to know. It gets better. Right now, when you’re so young, you’re afraid and think there’s danger everywhere. But as you get bigger, can make more decisions for yourself, can get out of the house, you’ll start to feel safer. I promise. In reality, the world won’t really be less dangerous for you, but you’ll feel it is when you compare it to these early years. It will be more difficult for you to feel fear because you’ve already been through the worst, and that will usually be a good thing because not having this fear, you will venture forth and take risks that others might be reluctant to take. Fortunately, you won’t take reckless risks, but risks like leaving home alone with $300 in your pocket at 20 to go 6000 miles away to go to a University to which you’d applied and gotten accepted, not knowing when, if ever, you would see your mother again. You will discover that you have courage, and it will serve you well. And you will be the champion of the small and helpless, the disempowered and disenfranchised, the fearful and helpless. You will be able to provide comfort and solace and find your calling.