Recently, while working on fixing my brain, I followed the suggestion of writing a letter to myself as a child, telling your younger self what you wish someone would have told you as a kid. I realized what I needed to do, and told my daughter all the same things I told my younger self. We both cried. I think that’s progress.
Working on sorting out my head, both medically and via therapy. Long story short, I stumbled on a good suggestion while trying to figure out why my inner monologue sounds so angry at me all the time: Find a picture of yourself as a child, and write a letter to that kid, showing them the support you wish you had then.
It sounded ridiculous. Did it anyway.