A Letter to My Young Self When I Thought I Was the Problem

Dear Sweetheart,

I want you to do something for me. I want you to buy a little notepad, maybe a thousand little notepads, and every time you have a negative thought about yourself, I want you to write it down on the little notepad, and when the little notepads are full, I want you to hide them under your bed.

I want you to know that the way to get into the Kingdom of Heaven which is really Your Real Life or Life Without Punching Yourself in the Gut is to get the negative thoughts out of your head and onto little pieces of paper for you to read as an adult and to remember all that you had to overcome to get to where you are now, which is Joyville. When you are an adult, you’ll be so grateful child you put the thoughts under your bed instead of bringing them with you into your 20s and 30s and beyond. The adult you will be so happy they’ll take you out for a summer drive or an ice cream or a long run.

I want you to know that you are good and real and perfect, even when you have dirt under your nails and you think about fucking.

I want you to know that life is about watching the birds and getting as close to flight as possible. It’s also about watching the worms and learning how to make your way through the mud. Life is so, so, so simple. It’s inhale, exhale, repeat.

Eat an apple, Love, and listen to the miracle of what staying alive sounds like. Crunchcrunchcrunch. That noise is real. The noise in your head is something else, and the little pieces of paper can save your life.

With love and devotion,

Anne

T., this is for you.