Dear Future Me

**Content warning: This is one person’s story; everyone will have unique experiences in recovery and beyond. Some stories may mention eating disorder thoughts, behaviors, and symptoms. Please use your discretion when reading and speak with your support system as needed.

By Jessica Corriher

I am just a human figuring things out in real time. I’m on a healing journey that includes growth, hard truths, and, at times, a little wit. I share my story honestly because healing is messy, laughter is at times necessary, and pretending we’re “fine” is overrated. None of us is meant to do it alone.

When you’re in the middle of a struggle that takes up way too much real estate in your head and life, hope can start to feel like a nice idea—for other people. I know this because for the longest time, I couldn’t picture my future self.

I remember sitting in a high school classroom, faced with an assignment to write a letter to our future selves. Where do you imagine you’ll be in five years? Ten? Everyone around me started scribbling like they had insider information. I just stared at my paper, pen hovering, coming up blank. While visiting my parents over the holidays, I found that letter, which led me here today, sharing my story with you.

Today, I’m writing from a place I once believed existed only in my “creative writing” assignment, if I’m being totally honest. For a long time, the idea of growing up, finding love, having a family, or simply enjoying life felt out of reach. I existed day to day, focused only on getting through the present moment. I lived this way for years, and those years shaped how I saw myself and my world. When something takes hold of you for long enough, it becomes difficult to tell where it ends and where you begin. It becomes familiar and predictable. Even when it’s painful, the thought of letting go feels completely terrifying.

For a long time, I didn’t believe change was possible for me. Healing did not happen overnight, and I’ll be honest, it is ongoing. There was no single lightbulb moment. No dramatic breakthrough. No movie montage version of healing where everything suddenly made sense. The process is slow—sometimes messy, sometimes frustrating. There are steps forward and steps back.

What mattered, though, was that eventually I allowed myself to consider the possibility that my life could be more. Here I am, a forty-something mother of two. I wake up excited about my life and what tomorrow holds. Not every day, but often enough that it still surprises me. I experience joy, connection, purpose, and fulfillment in ways that once felt impossible. By no means is my life perfect, but it is full. Full of growth, love, and presence.

I’m not sharing this because my story is extraordinary. I’m sharing it because for a long time, I believed stories like mine weren’t possible. If you’re reading this and you feel stuck (like everyone else got the roadmap and you somehow missed it). If you can’t imagine yourself on the other side of where you are right now, that doesn’t mean your future doesn’t exist. It simply means you haven’t reached it yet. You are not broken for struggling. You are not weak for feeling exhausted. You are not failing because healing feels slow.

The bravest thing we can do is simply keep going. Keep trying. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Stay long enough for something to change.

I didn’t know how much life was still ahead of me during my adolescence and early adulthood. I didn’t know that the dreams I had quietly buried would one day become real. I didn’t know I would laugh as much as I do now, love as deeply as I do now, or experience all the exciting twists and turns, ups and downs, that life brought me.

Life surprised me, and it can surprise you, too. If there’s one thing I hope you take from my story, it’s this: there is more ahead of you than you can currently imagine. There is space for growth, healing, and joy—even if you can’t feel it yet. It is there. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to feel hopeful every day. You just have to keep going long enough for life to surprise you.

If you or a loved one is experiencing an eating disorder, help is available. Reach out to The Emily Program today by calling 1-888-364-5977 or completing our online form.

We want to hear your voice of recovery! If you are interested, please email blog@emilyprogram.com to learn more.