A Letter To My Younger Self: Pre-Teens

Continuing in my quest to get my blogging mojo back, I am writing a series of letters to my younger self, start at 6 and going to 22. Today, I bring you my awkward pre-teens

Dear Pre-Teen Michelle (10-13),

Honey, put down that Backstreet Boy pillow, throw away your NSYNC beanie babies, and stop tapping every Disney Channel concert of BBMak. I'm going to warn you now that this seemingly normal obsession with boy bands will only lead to an excessive amount of clutter and many lengthy explanations on why you actually have an entire scrapbook devoted to 98Degrees in your top drawer. I'll even make it easier on you: Lance Bass is gay. Nick Carter is a drug user (editor's note: I stand corrected that he currently is not a drug user and is doing well for himself). The only one who will be around 10 years later will be Justin Timberlake, and he certainly isn't crooning 12 year olds anymore.

How did you not know?!?

Moving on...

How's therapy going? The doctor is giving you a crap load of crazy assignments to complete at school and home, but none are really hitting you like writing in your diaries. While I would never suggest censoring what you say, I do have to warn you that when you permanently move out of the house, mom will read every last one of those. Putting a big warning label on them wont do much but make it more intriguing.

My advice is to stop writing elusively about who you hate. Hate is such a strange word, and you seem to be throwing it around a ton these days. You dont hate half the girl scout troop because they sell more cookies than you. You certainly dont hate your aunts who continually help you out with homework every night. And even Angela doesn't deserved to be hated for her certainly abnormal obsession with Grease.

It may be hard, but give people a chance. They are not always out to get you or to judge you for what you say or look like. Most of those people you call enemies will turn out to be great friends. Friends who will help you through the dark stages of high school (and yes, high school is dark and so not full of muscular, musical bad boys to sweep you off your feet).

LIES!

Those same people may be better than you at so many things, even at playing clarinet (your second obsession), but you have a great, open heart. Already at 10, you see that the environment you grow up in is full of intense bigotry, and racism. You dont understand why someone in your school wont talk to your different raced friend. You incessantly worry about children in Africa not having a school to go to. And you frequently pray that you will grow up to work in charities or as an activist.

For all those reasons, and more, you are much bigger than you think you are. Keep cultivating your introspective personality while working on having a more decisive, less fearful, voice. There is nothing worse than being trapped in a room of BSB posters with the world on your shoulders, so get out there and spread the word as best as you can.

Love,
Yourself, 13 years later

What I Will Say At My First Therapy Meeting

Dear Therapist To Be,

This isn't my first time. I've seen one of you. Well, 3 of you. There was a god-fearing portly woman during junior high, a lady with a smoke machine in high school, and one of the most articulate Italian ladies ever during undergrad. All were smiley, almost too much so, and one even gave me hugs after every session. I'd leave feeling satisfied and placated. I'd come back feeling worse.

So, please excuse me if I'm skeptical at first.

I tried not to contact you for your service. I've gone four years without really needing you. I got in to yoga, found an amazing job that fulfilled my soul, and even dated around just to play- just like the three of the past suggested. And it worked, to my surprise.

For four years, I wasn't anxious about impending car accidents or various fatal injuries. I didn't dwell on my regrets as much as I tended to, and I certainly didn't re-visit details of my parent's divorce like they were a well-read magazine. I even felt ok enough to let go of a person who meant that absolute world to me just because he wasn't the one anymore. Oh, and I stopped being so dependent on comfort food, ambien, and late night tv to put me to sleep. For four years, I was happy.


And to an extent, I still am. Frankly, I'm not sure if I should even be here, sitting on your couch, fighting for an excuse on why I need to shell out my hard earned money just to talk. I've still have a great job- even if it is not that dream job I worked so hard for. I have a just perfectly swell boyfriend who holds my hand at night. And I finally feel stable in the realm of finances and living quarters.

Over the last few months, things have changed. I'm more agitated and frightened, and I cant even muster up the courage to sit at the front of the bus. I cry over the silliest or mundane things- youtube videos, inspirational sports wins, abandoned or missing children news stories, and even episodes of "What Would You Do?" My fear of abandonment makes it even more difficult to let myself go around people. My even larger fear of not being liked makes every friend de-quest seem like a shot to the heart. And nights alone are dark and void of thoughts.

When I talk to you, I will be defensive, even over people I dont want to defend. I will make excuses for them and then for why I am making excuses for. I wont do your exercises that will force me to confront someone. And I certainly wont be making phone calls or composing emails that apologize for my actions.


For awhile, I will agree that I am a child of divorce and all my abandonment issues and occasional codependency come from the fear of losing my family. But then I will grow tired of talking about my parents and will want to focus on me. This will be my breakthrough. I wont mention the person I've been dating or my ex. I wont cry over the loss of a particular friend. Heck, I wont even mention a certain person's suicide as much as I did at the start. It will be all me speaking- working through my issues.

And when I come to the realization that all I need is to stop blaming past events and others for my depression (because that's what it is)'s current state, then I will be ready to let you go. It could take four sessions. It could take four months worth. But I'll let you know.

Now, when do you start evaluating me?