Tomorrow morning I will be a resident of Chicago, IL. I'll finally be diving head-first into the life I've been planning for years. I'll be starting my professional career and jumping into the blissful confusion of my twenty-somethings. As of tomorrow morning, my life is about to change in a huge way.
As I sit on my twin bed at my mom's house for the last time, my mind is running anxiously with bittersweet excitement. Knees tucked to chest, hair piled atop my head and soft kitten by my side. Warm memories of friendship, firsts and lessons learned are washing over me and leaving me lost in nostalgia. I'm also, however, feeling fear creep into my thoughts like a dull tone I try to drown out by busying myself. This is a fear that for years has been silently festering beneath my skin, veiled by a paper thin sheathe that, with the slightest pin prick, carves deep into the pits of my insecurities, the rooms I hide the darkest places I've been. This fear originated far before my college years, even before high school. The last bit of shame, resentment and hopelessness that I lived in during my 14th year of life is now the final force trying to pull me back underneath it, hiding me from my potential and future.
We all have that year. The year we find out how far down we can go before we hit rock bottom. The year we find out who we aren't so we can confirm who we are. The year the shit hits the fan and when all is said and done, you learn the true meaning of unconditional love from those that stood by you. For me, that was 9th grade. It made me a stronger, smarter, healthier person in the end, but as much as I'd like to say I've moved on completely, I still harbor much of the guilt, shame and insecurities that I acquired over that year. As I'm about to fully move onto the next stage of my life, I thought it might be nice to finally address the person who has been haunting me for years. Maybe she needs some comfort too.
So, without further delay,
A Letter to My 14 year-old Self:
Dear 14 year-old me,
I know you think this is super pretentious and lame, 22 year-old you kind of does too. But to be honest, we have some things to sort out and I want to share with you a thing or two I've learned over the past couple of years. So, let's both do our best to get through this as painlessly as possible.
By this point you've probably noticed that you're a sensitive person. And not in the typical "teenage drama" sensitive that you've been mistaken for, but you are inherently more in tune with other people's feelings and energy. From the way people look at you in the hallway down to the inflections in their speech, subtle tones or hesitation that are lost on others, scream out to you. You know that you're different, but you don't know when it started or how you can make it stop and finally be able to feel like everyone else does. You feel weak, dramatic and unintelligent. When you express your thoughts or impressions of things to others you're often seen as making a huge deal about something, or reading into things too much. While it's true that anyone, especially a 14 year-old girl in middle school, can over analyze things and jump to conclusions, what you're thinking and feeling is entirely valid and often accurate. Please know that one day this big, stupid heart of yours will give you the ability to surround yourself with wonderful friends and be fully loved and supported in return. It also gives you the ability to act and write. Seriously, I know you haven't ever seen a school play much less a professional production but trust me, you'll be all over it in about a year and a half.
Here are somethings I learned over the past couple of years that I wanted to share with you.
Middle school sucks. I know everyone tells you that and I know it doesn't make anything better. This isn't a condescending or minimizing statement of what you're facing, it's just a fact. Take comfort that you're almost at the end of one of the hardest challenges you will ever face. Things get harder in a different kind of way as you grow up, but you'll always know why you're going through it and for the most part you won't have to be surrounded by people who are cruel to you. Every little step forward further disperses the drama and gives you more control over who you're around.
Bullying is still the worst term I've found to describe what happened to you and many of your friends. It sounds so innocent and condescending. It's along the lines of "boys will be boys" or "kids can really be cruel sometimes" to comfort a child who dreads walking into school each day. Please know that there is not one person alive who knows enough about themselves or their lives to have the authority to tell you that you are less than. Unfortunately, I know this doesn't provide you any solace right now. Even at 22, I still remember the rumors, name calling, fake Myspace accounts made or the response to my typical angsty teenage Myspace post about "The 7 things I hate about School" (childish things such as homework or a horrible teacher). The list "The 7 things we hate about Caity"that was sent around the internet with details from words that I said frequently, the way I looked all the way down to the way I walk still haunts me in my more vulnerable moments. Getting grabbed at or shoved aside while you walk from class to class until you completely lost ownership of your body. You wouldn't have been dramatic or causing a scene by telling people to stop. It'll take you about another 6 years to realize that being touched in any non-consensual way isn't okay. Thanks for holding on and getting through each day even when more and more of your friends were turning to suicide. There aren't words to describe the beautiful people and experiences you would have missed. There are so many parts of you that you have no idea exist yet, parts I still don't know exist, and I'm so grateful to have the chance to discover them.
Your friends are mostly 14 year-old girls and therefore sometimes not the most consistent. Everyone is still figuring out how to care about each other and they're all fairly certain that if anyone knew how sensitive and vulnerable they can truly be, they would be instantly trampled in the race to social acceptance. This gets steadily better every single year of your life but you also start to appreciate that being friends with someone doesn't mean you have to perfectly align with every one of their quirks and tendencies. You'll have a lot of good friends that you're about 70% compatible with and during the other 30% you'll go to another 70% friend. This doesn't mean that they're bad friends or you're a horrible person for not loving certain parts of them. The more 70% friends you have, the larger community of people you have around you, as opposed to only pursuing friendships with best friends in the world and being lonely if you can't find them. No person is all good or all bad, you're a 70% friend to a lot of people yourself and life is so much better when you appreciate the good in the people around you.
Your appearance is irrelevant to your worth. Now write that on the chalkboard 3000 times. Completely let go of yourself and how you feel about the way you look and for a second think about someone you really care about. What makes them beautiful to you? It's probably something unique, something perhaps they find to be a flaw because it makes them different. There are people in this world who will love you right down to your morning breath and the long red strands that stick to the walls of the shower when you wash your hair. And trust me, they couldn't care less about what size jeans you wear. It will be 7 years before you start getting help for you body image issues and taking ownership of your beautiful body and I wish there was anything that could be done to make you realize that earlier.
Your Mom is a super hero. You have no idea how much she's doing to make sure you're able to experiment and find out who you are in your teenage years without letting you go too far off the edge. You grew up knowing that no matter how badly you messed up, how many classes you failed or nights you snuck out to ride in cars with boys Drew Barrymore style, you could always come home. You knew you were wanted. You knew you were loved. You knew that if you wanted to try something new, start a band, join gymnastics, switch schools, get a degree in theatre, you would have her complete support. I know this is a rough time for everyone in the family but I promise two years and a divorce later, your family will be less dramatic it ever has been. If possible, give her a break now and again and actually be home on time, preferably with no new piercings or cats.
Thank you for keeping up with writing. Throughout my time sorting and packing through everything I've ever owned this week, I found a collection of books I wrote with markers on construction paper at age 8. It's funny how I had no idea I wanted to be a writer until late high school when there were such obvious signs from day one. Who would ever imagine that the scribblings in your hot pink notebook would someday grow and transform into awards that you hang above your desk. Thank you for allowing that giant, messy, stupid heart of yours to keep growing and learning. Thank you for making it to 15 and allowing me to enjoy this wonderful life you worked so hard to create for me. Now, I'm going to try to start living it fully.
-Me
