Dear...

I watched the movie, Dear Evan Hanson on the plane yesterday. In addition to making me cry, it made me think about the mistakes we make and often times with the best intentions. We all feel lonely, different, and like we don’t belong from time to time. But if we could speak openly to people we can trust with our secrets, insecurities, and worries, how much freer and less lonely would we feel? How much less suffering would there be? And how do we find people we can trust?

I started writing this last week for someone else and quickly realized I needed it too. Maybe you want to write a letter to yourself…something you needed to hear then or would like to hear now. Here’s mine:

Dear Lindsay Bomstein,

The best thing we can do is accept that there is something wrong with us. And that there is something very right with us.

How do I know this? Because there is something wrong with everyone. Because we are human beings and we are imperfect by nature. Wrong isn’t necessarily bad, it’s just different. And thank goodness for different.

The sooner we accept this, the sooner we can enjoy our lives. Because it’s not that big of a deal, really.

We all have limitations, quirks, and weaknesses, in addition to our strengths and talents.

If we can accept what is “wrong” with us, we take away the stigma of “it” being a bad thing. Instead we can look at it as a challenge, yes, but maybe these challenges are as neutral as eye color. This is me - this is who I am-and this is how I need to function within the framework and limits of my differences. We can focus on what we’re good at and what we love.

As a kid I was so embarrassed a lot of the time. I was self- conscious and feared people’s judgment. I thought people were staring at me and sometimes they were because I got told by strangers that I looked like Ricky Schroeder, the little girl from the movie, Poltergeist which freaked me out, and later, the Hansons. (This one really stung).

Sometimes people told me I had long eyelashes or skinny legs or a red face or that my voice was really high and squeaky or that I was too sensitive, too hyper, cried too easily, and took things too personally. These things are actually true. To an extent.

And…so what? Who cares? I may take things personally sometimes and you may have a problem being emotionally available. We both have our work to do. But these things also make us more compassionate, intuitive, and caring.

I wish instead of trying to hide those things I didn’t like about myself growing up, that I flaunted them. Or at least was able to identify them, accept, and ultimately even embrace and maybe even laugh about them. Our weaknesses, flaws, and imperfections are an opportunity to learning to love our selves more.

And the gift in this is that we can be more compassionate and empathetic towards other’s limitations too. We can be kind, supportive, inclusive, and celebrate our differences.

If we let the thing that we are hiding from out into the open, the light burns the shame away, and we’re left with our weird, unique, and beautiful selves.

As a child, it would have been helpful to know I had dyscalculia (difficulty with numbers and math) that I was highly sensitive, and the weird shit I did actually had a name (OCD).

Maybe then I would have had more knowledge and knowledge is power. I could have advocated for myself and done what scared me anyway instead of avoiding what scared me which only exacerbated the fear. I didn’t want to disappoint people. I didn’t want them to know how I felt. I didn’t want them to know there was anything wrong. I didn’t want to look stupid..

For some reason, we like to pretend there isn’t anything wrong or different. We think being perfect is the goal. Or being positive or happy all of the time. But this isn’t possible or helpful.

What would have been helpful was to know about my differences. Then perhaps the adults in my life would have understood that I wasn’t trying to be difficult or inattentive, that it was how I was made, and how I processed the insane and beautiful world around me. It would have been dealt with as physical disabilities (ideally and hopefully) are; with adaptations and support.

What do we do after we accept what’s wrong with us? We make informed decisions based on the facts and proceed from there. We don’t stop doing what is hard for us, we do it anyway. With help.

Growing up, I needed a math tutor, more time with homework and tests, a few deep breaths before taking a test, and maybe a pause during a test. I needed the adults around me to know that I wasn’t trying to get a D, I simply didn’t understand what I was looking at. I needed to be taught in a different way.

It would have helped one summer when I worked at a salon in high school if I had known this information. It would have saved me some humility which turned into a lack of confidence and self-trust. I could have said back to the woman yelling, “What is wrong with you?, this is the kind of math you learn in kindergarten”, as I struggled to find the correct change. “You’re right, it is.” I could have said, “I have a learning disability and need more time and stress makes it worse. But I’m really good with people and so clearly I’ve got you beat in that department.” Bam! How empowering that would have been! But I didn’t know this about myself until after college so no bams there just me feeling stupid and humiliated.

Self- knowledge is key. And then after that it’s all about acceptance. There are things we can change and so much that we can’t. So why not work everyday towards accepting, loving, and understanding ourselves exactly as we are in this very moment?

And all of these differences don’t define us anyway. Deep down under the surface, away from the noise is our magnificent, sparkly souls. The real you. The real me. If an adult or friend, teacher or parent hasn’t helped you understand how wonderful you are yet, if they haven’t helped you locate your light, hang in there, it will be revealed to you. Keep believing in yourself. You will move mountains💖And most likely, you already have.