Dear Younger Me,
The other day, I was sharing my dreams with Gerard (your future husband) when something ignited inside of me. It felt as if I was carrying something, almost like the movement of your future daughter, Mia, having a party in my stomach while I was pregnant with her.
Then I realized it was you. The inner child I’ve been holding hostage far too long. I felt you jumping around trying to get my attention. But this time I’ve chosen to acknowledge you rather than silence you.
See, it’s been forever since I’ve talked to you. Matter of fact, I’ve never talked to you. One day I simply locked you away in my heart, forgetting you were even there. It wasn’t done intentionally, though. You’ve made it very clear that you’re still here, begging for freedom from a place meant to protect you. Yet, I ended up imprisoning you.
So today I’m opening my heart back up to you. Uncovering a layer of your life-to-be that causes your imprisonment. But if you read along it has the power to unlock the cell you’ve been confined to for many years. I hope you’ll read along to see why I tried to protect you, but now I realize I caused you more harm than good.
Going back as far as I can remember, you were a sparkly, bright-eyed, carefree little girl. Your presence and smile could fill a room. Your hopes and dreams were endless in a world where the sky is the limit. Until one day the sparkle in your eyes began to dim. Your carefree nature became more rigid and structured.
But what changed? What dimmed your light?
Unfortunately, it was your dad. Your absent dad. (Check out, “It All Started from Disappointment”) His broken promises would change the whole dynamic of your life. It would cause me to protect your fragile heart not realizing the repercussions of doing so. One of them is you will live in a constant state of frustration in life.
Throughout your youth you won’t be able to figure out why he abandoned you. I mean, you were loveable, pretty, smart, respectful, caring, outgoing, and so much more. But most importantly you were his child. His only child. Not created from a casual encounter, but created in the union of love. So you’ll go on to struggle with that aspect of life not making sense.
Over your teenage years, you’ll forgive your dad but the hole will remain. You’ll try to fill it with analytical things, math in particular because duh…it makes sense. You will excel in it and develop what you think is a “love” for it. But what you don’t know is math is really a cover-up. One you will cling to because you need things in your life to make sense.
Before I locked you away, your career choice was to become a doctor, lawyer, or something helping people. But you chose to give way to fear (something you’ll do throughout your adulthood) and pursued accounting. It was safe. No ambiguity. No risk. Everything has to add up in accounting otherwise there is an out-of-balance. Something you had in life and didn’t like. This career will be the balance you’ve been looking for, or at least that’s what you think. Instead, it’ll be your main source of frustration down the road.
I should’ve listened to you my junior year in college when you tried to escape and tell me accounting wasn’t my purpose. Instead, it was a decision I made based off of circumstances and what I thought I needed. But you saw the potential in me when I didn’t see it in myself. It’s crazy how I tried to protect you but in the end you were trying to protect me. At the end of the day you were, and always have been, much stronger than me.
Unfortunately, I can’t change the past but I can apologize for how I handled you. I’m forever sorry that I robbed you of so many things. The adventures. The chances. The risks. Just allowing you to flourish and be open.
I haven’t listened to you. Your childhood shouldn’t have been reserved or paralyzed by fear. It should have been lived to the fullest. So today I not only apologize but ask for your forgiveness. Do you forgive me? Will you make your return and join me on my journey to help me learn how you operated all along? I can’t change what happened, but what I can do is help write a new ending.
This letter is the first chapter.