Dear 12-year-old self,
I know that you’ve been struggling with something for a long
time. And you carry this thing well into your adulthood. In fact, this is 50-year-old
you writing a long overdue love letter to yourself when you really needed it
the most.
I know that for most of your formative years, you felt
different than everyone else. That difference mostly manifested itself in your
outward appearance. It started early in grade school with comments about your
height and your weight – tall and thin. And then the universe saw fit to cover
you with freckles.
And as you got a little older, the bullies got a little
bolder. Then, in the sixth grade your classmates felt so incredibly awful about
themselves that they chose to target you. They called you Rover. Said you were
uglier than a dog. They barked at you. And you lived with that for most of that
year and then carried it with you for the next 38.
And when you needed it the most, there was no one to help.
No one to stand up for you. That year, one of the worst, you asked for help. “They
are just teasing” was the adult response. There’s a massive difference between
teasing and bullying, and you were bullied and didn’t have the words to
understand or ask for support. And so you let it happen and lived with it. And
you still do.
Even today you describe your appearance as tall, gangly,
freckled and the human equivalent of a giraffe. You are so much more than that. But, to be fair, giraffes are pretty cool.
By the time you got to junior high, Rover disappeared and
nicknames like Stretch and a Pirate’s Dream (sunken chest, how clever of you
stupid boys) became the norm. You never felt cute or pretty and people made fun
of you and your last name and reinforced this notion that you are ugly. All
these things you’ve carried with you no matter how outwardly confident you
might seem, inside you’ve always felt less than.
Thirty years later, your incredible daughter was faced with
the same thing at the same age. So I’m going to tell you what you needed to
hear when you were 12, and the words I said to her: “You are tall, thin, smart,
funny as hell, kind and beautiful. And you are everything they are never going
to be. That is why they picked you to hate. You are everything. They are
nothing.”
You needed someone to say that, not dismiss those hateful
and mean words as mere teasing or my always favorite “kids will be kids”. Words
matter. Words. Matter.
And I wish with all that I am that you could see the woman
you’ve become so that you don’t carry those words and experiences with you for
38 more years. I wish I could give you a big hug, tuck you in and hold you
tight so you felt safe. I’d tell you you’re beautiful inside and out. I wish
you could see yourself the way others see you now.
I wish you could, even now at age 50, believe that you are
beautiful. But your beauty is more than just what’s on the outside. You are
funny as hell, you are adventurous, brave, kind, smart, successful, athletic (yes,
this does eventually happen to you!) and you are also beautiful in your own wavy
hair freckle-faced brown eyed way.
It will take some time to undo those thoughts and those
memories, but this is a start. Be kind to yourself. Be proud of yourself.
Remember what you’ve overcome and that you are a total badass. And, someday, I hope when someone tells you that you're beautiful that you finally believe it. You are, inside and out.
Please remember to love yourself.
Love,
Yourself
