Letter to My Anxious Self

for the part of me that feared being left

Dear Anxious Me,

You were always just trying to hold on.

To love hard, to stay close, to make sure nothing slipped through your fingers.

You noticed every shift in tone, every pause in a text, every unspoken silence—and it made your heart race.

That wasn’t weakness. That was your nervous system scanning for safety.

I know you wanted someone to say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when they didn’t, or couldn’t, it felt like a storm inside you.

So you reached, you questioned, you overthought—because you believed that maybe, if you tried hard enough, they’d stay.

But I want you to know:

You never had to beg to be loved.

You never had to be perfect to be chosen.

You were already enough. Even in your most tender, terrified moments.

Your desire for closeness isn’t something to fix—it’s something to understand.

And I’m here now, to give you what they couldn’t:

Safety. Steadiness. A soft place to land.

You’re safe with me.

Always,