Somewhere Between What Happened and What Comes Next

Last week in therapy, I found myself talking about the daunting, sometimes overwhelming responsibility I feel toward all the versions of myself existing at once. There is Past Me, who needs compassion, protection, and the reminder that she made the best possible decisions for herself at the time. There is Present Me, who is trying to accept what has happened without letting it define everything that comes next. And then there is Future Me, who I can’t fully picture yet, but who I still feel responsible for protecting. Three different women all needing care in their own unique ways, and I’m trying to show up for all of them.

Past Me is perhaps the easiest to find myself grieving for. I want to go back and tell her that she didn’t fail. That she deserves protection from the voice that wants to judge every decision and every “what if it happened different?”. I want to sit with her in her pain and remind her that she’s strong, but I also fear getting indefinitely stuck in the mud of it all. Present Me has her own healing to do. She needs hope, acceptance, and the freedom to build a life that isn’t entirely organized around what has already happened. At the same time, Present Me is reaching out to Past Me to let her know she’s safe now; I’m holding her hand as I move us both forward.

And then there is Future Me, who might be the hardest version to care for because I don’t know her yet. She needs me to make decisions today that give her room tomorrow. She needs options and peace of mind. She needs to know that, even when I couldn’t control what was taken from me, I did what I could to make sure I wasn’t taking anything else from her. And that’s a difficult kind of responsibility because I don’t know who she will be. I don’t know what she will want, what she’ll be ready for, what she’ll be able to carry, or what kind of life she’ll ultimately hope to build. I can’t ask her what she would choose. I can only try to leave doors open for her.

So, this is where I am right now: somewhere between what happened and what comes next. Trying to make peace with the fact that the future will always contain some uncertainty. I can honor the girl I was, care for the woman I am, and still make room for the woman I haven’t met yet. I don’t have to know exactly what she will need in order to love her well. Maybe loving her just means leaving the door open.