You Will Be Brave: An Open Letter to a Younger Me

April 27, 2019

Dear Jonathan,

Right now, you are sixteen years old. You love God and being at church, although your parents argue going to and coming from it. Life is somewhat normal: you try to get good grades, you avoid talking to girls you like, and you try too hard to be popular. You have a big heart and that carefree sense of humor that I miss.

Look, what I’m about to tell you might not be what you want to know: your life won’t be easy. But listen – someone wise once wrote that everything is made beautiful in its time.

When you’re seventeen, something…happens. I don’t know how or when it starts, but somehow it will become harder to smile one day. You’ll feel heavy. You won’t laugh or joke as much anymore. I can’t explain it; something just seems to break, and your happiness will fade. You’ll ask yourself again and again, “What’s wrong with me?”

Your parents will split after you leave high school, and later, when you are nineteen, you find yourself far from home. You will drop out of college. You will be homeless. Some nights, you sleep in your car, most of the other nights, you crash on the couches of people who don’t necessarily want you around. This isn’t how you pictured things would be.

You join the Army to escape it, and you are taught to work hard, sacrifice, and kill. You want to go to war. You want to be brave, but you never tell anyone that you also want to die, because at least if it happened like this, they’d say you were brave. You never get to go, and that angers you.

Your twenties are chaotic. You work your way up from nothing. You become an adult who pays his bills and takes care of himself. You lose everything in a fire. You start over. You become an adult who pays his bills and takes care of himself. You lose everything because of a toxic relationship. You become lonely and want nothing more than to escape, so you gamble and drink your money away in the Bahamas. You get stranded and barely make it home. It’s the most humiliating moment of your life. Your twenties are chaotic.

Do you remember how you wanted to be a pilot in the military? It was your childhood dream. Well, one day you finally get a piece of paper that says you’ve earned it.

You’ve done it. You’re twenty-seven, and your dream job is right in front of you.

Strangely, you feel nothing. You thought it would bring fulfillment, but it doesn’t. You find that your problems don’t go away. You panic and feel directionless. Your heart feels so heavy even when you’re surrounded by people. It confuses you and you begin to spiral. You begin to drown yourself in alcohol. You say and do things you aren’t proud of. You hurt the women you meet.

You never would’ve imagined that this was the kind of man you’d grow to become. You’re broken, and just not the same. You feel worthless. You hate yourself. You are ashamed of yourself. You can’t forgive yourself.

One night, you find yourself alone in your room. It is the darkest moment of your life. You hope that the phone will ring, but it doesn’t. You hope that someone will walk in the door and find you as you are, but nobody ever does. You think one of the most terrifying thoughts that you will ever think: you are alone, and nobody is coming to save you; you’re not worth anything anymore.

You will decide to end everything.

In that moment Jon, just hang on for a second longer. I’m begging you. What happens next changes everything.

You finally do something you haven’t done in a long time: you pray. “God,” you say, “You’re the only one I have left. You’re the only one that’s still here. Please don’t leave me alone. I need you.”

You tremble at the thought of what might’ve happened, and you hope you’ll forget it when you wake. Much later, you stop denying this moment and finally come to terms with it: yes, you attempted suicide.

But already things will have started to change.

At the church you occasionally attend, you decide to serve and help with the kid’s area. You’ll be sent to speak with a woman leading the children’s ministry. Her name is Angel.

She will tell you she has been searching for a man to volunteer because the boys need a role model; you join, and she says you are an answer to her prayers. One Sunday, as you are leaving, Angel gives you a hug on your way out and tells you, “You are a blessing.”

You are a blessing.

You think about those words as you drive home. Jon, I know you’ve got a lot of pride and you try to be tough all the time. Trust me, I get it.

…But you cry like a baby in your car that night.

“I can’t be a blessing,” you protest, “How could I ever be?”

One morning, over coffee, your pastor will say, “I think my next sermon will be about mental health, but I haven’t decided.”
Later, you text him and tell him everything. He has decided. He will ask if you want to come forward and share your story. It’s a daunting thought. If you publicly disclose this, your dream career is at risk.

You agree.

Jon, everything is made beautiful in its time. This pain will hurt you, but it will never define you. This ends in victory.

On that platform, you are brave, and you are free. You share your story, and so many others begin to say, “Me too…that’s me too. We’re not alone.” Like prison walls shattering, your life will never be the same.

I couldn’t change that even if I wanted to.

You are a blessing, and you will be brave.

Love,
Yourself

 

About the Author

Jonathan Her is a veteran and writer living in Tampa, FL. He attended Montgomery College in Maryland, where he earned an A.A. in English. In May 2019 he will be graduating from the University of South Florida with a B.A. in English. He currently works as a research assistant with Dr. Kristin Kosyluk, where they study the effects that This Is My Brave has on stigma reduction toward mental illnesses. With his free time, he enjoys live music, blogging, and serving at church.