Letter to my younger self
Dear Carla,
If this time travel experiment goes well, you won't need me to write this letter to you when I...you...we...are 43. Right now, you are just 15 and you are trying to make sense of what has happened to you. You think that being good is enough and so you keep measuring yourself against a fictional standard for "good" that changes faster than you can imagine. (And I do mean imagine!) You are going to make yourself physically ill if you continue this way. You are enough of a wordsmith even at this age to know how vague "good" is. Worry less about being "good" and just be you. Trust me, you are so much more than enough for anything, any task, and surely anyone! There is so much God in you that you are more than enough just by showing up! Learn to embrace yourself from that Godly (NOT RELIGIOUS) perspective, please.
This is going to sound odd, but you must find a way to listen to (as in honor) your mother without letting her take up residence in your head. Think your own thoughts or you will end up living the life that she creates for you with her words. She means to make you better though her words hurt you. Her words are for and from her life, not yours. Your words are your gift and you must release that gift and neutralize the pain you feel from the words of others. Go get that purple spiral notebook right now and begin writing. Just write whatever is on your mind. Write feverishly every day until you find that you have exhausted your supply of words. (Surprise! It won't ever happen! That's the gift!) There are always more words. You will learn to choose them wisely later. For now, just let them run wild on the page. Give them the freedom that you long for. Don't edit, just write. Just write. Write what happened. Write what didn't happen. Write what you wish had happened. Write your police report so that you can carefully and honestly express what happened when the time comes. Then write your prayer to God and in due time, you will see your tears turn from water to wine. You can't show everything to everyone but you should probably show your drama teacher. She will bless you immensely.
Speaking of Drama, you do not belong on the stage crew! You belong on stage. So act. Speak. Practice. Use the voice that is threatening to retreat in this very moment. Connect with Dwayne, Malcolm and Noelle. They have something that you can learn from. They are free and expressive in ways that you can be but tend to shy away from for some reason. You think that you can "only be the smart church girl" and somehow you link that to the false belief that you have to hide because of what happened to you. It was never your fault. Nothing about it was your fault and you have an amazing inner strength for not dying in the moment. You have an amazing strength for walking all those miles back home and being unafraid to live the rest of your life. You have an amazing strength for simply telling people when you knew what their reaction would be and again I remind you, it was never your fault. They don't know that so please forgive them for the ways in which they can only act on what they know. You do the same thing, so be gentle and generous with them and with yourself. Your strength will serve you later when you are no longer fragile and feel a need to protect yourself. You will see. That strength will show up when you are able to tell the story and stand straight and flat-footed and tell your story without reliving the pain. You'll see. (And you will smile because you will have the power to release everyone in the room from their associated pain. That's when the water will have turned into wine and you will serve the guests the best that they have ever tasted.) Whew. That's a lot, right? I know.
I think that I would like to write more to you but I am going to stop for now. I love you and I pray that you learn to love yourself deeply, fully, and passionately. You'll need that love to fight the hate that surrounds you in places I will point out later. This is enough for now. Hug yourself for me. (Ha! Ha! I can see you...me now, curled up on the floor with that corduroy pillow between our back and the radiator which is surely kicking some good heat right about now. The stereo is probably on WBLS and you have no idea how safe you are in that house with those crazy old people who love you and the German Shepherd who sleeps under your window because he is your guardian. Rest easy tonight. You've got a lot of living to do tomorrow!)
I love you...me...us!
The older, wiser, Carla
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