Comfort

When I was a child, I would often find myself scared and alone. This was not because I had somehow gotten lost, or because I had been left behind. It was simply because I found that, while I was out and about doing the things that other people did, I felt as though I didn't belong. There was something inside of me that said, "What if this is wrong? What if this isn't what I'm supposed to be doing?" The people around me did not seem to hesitate in what they were doing, but somehow I just didn't feel right. I could never explain it.

These thoughts filled me more often than I care to admit, and the few times I tried to talk to anyone about it they just brushed me off, telling me I was too young to be worrying about such things. I don't remember how the thought came about, but I began talking to my future self about it. I would close my eyes, take a deep breath, and send a message to the future. I would ask myself if we would make it through, if things were going to be alright, if these were the kinds of things that I should be worrying about.

In retrospect, it sounds really silly. It sounds very much like something a lunatic would do, or perhaps someone with a mental problem of some sort, though what in particular I couldn't say. But it helped. Not just because of the action itself, but because I would get answers. After a while, sometimes a few minutes, and sometimes a few hours, I would get this distinct feeling of a message having been received. It was like a carrier pigeon flew directly into my brain to deliver its parcel. And so, again, I would close my eyes, take a deep breath, and unravel it.

These messages would tell me that things would be ok. That I - or as I phrased it, we - would make it through in the end. That we'd hit some hard spots, that we'd sink down pretty low, but that we'd be ok. We'd find our path. We'd make due with what was handed to us. And sooner or later - and usually sooner - we'd figure it out.

These were comforting thoughts. They helped me get through the day. They helped me get through the year. These messages helped me to push forward, to do what I needed to do, to become who I am now. And eventually, I didn't need to ask for help anymore. I had internalized the message, made it a part of who I was, and I became comfortable with who I was.

But that wasn't the end of it.

In recent years, as I have settled down and become satisfied with life, that feeling has returned. The feeling of a letter gently landing in my skull. But now those letters ask for help. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognize them, because they're the very messages I used to send. And so once more, I close my eyes, I take a deep breath, and I send the messages that helped me get through.

It may sound crazy, but I know it's true, and I know it's real. Somehow, I have been able to communicate with myself through time, and I have given myself strength. And so I gladly complete the cycle. I don't question it, because I know without this, I may have never reached where I am.

Call me crazy if you want. But I'm a lot happier being crazy than you are being normal.