Dearest Past Sam,

Things have been hard. Like really hard. And I'm here to tell you they don't

get much better. Well, not in the immediate future.

You've been battling mental illness for a while now. There are always plenty of downs to trudge through, and the highs are fleeting at best. You've stopped taking the pills and seeing a psychologist, trying to get better on your own, you stubborn thing. The shadows were kept at bay for a while. The light filtered them out. But they are always lurking in the corners of your mind.

It's important to note that it's not always doom and gloom for you. You smile at animals and elderly people, laugh with your husband when he makes up ridiculous scenarios, and feel a sense of peace whenever you look at the sky, day or night.

Moments of contentment exist in between the moments of distress. I suppose you might be wondering, am I happy?

There is no simple answer to that question. You will experience flashes of happiness, but sustaining that sensation can be gruelling. I can't say if we know what happiness feels like, but does anyone? Maybe those who think they are happy are oblivious to the dread that those like us can live with.

I find living to be like grieving. It doesn't get easier, the pain doesn't lessen, and the void in your heart cannot always be filled, but time can take away the sting. Time will teach you how to cope and remind you that even when things are dark, you can climb out of that hole – even just to glimpse at the sun.

I hope you find some wisdom in this letter; if not, it will come.

I'll see you soon,

Future Sam