The tumor grew on my Medulla oblongata, the part of the brain that triggers our responses to fear (real or perceived). This makes me think that I have spent too much of my life in that crowded place called worry. Some part of me must believe that it’s not safe to be 100% me. As part of my meditation practice, I wrote a letter to the little girl inside me to burn off some of that worry. Each morning, I wake up and look at a picture of me as a toddler. I light a candle and I read her my letter or I just tell her part of it. It feels good. Letting go of worry is so freeing! I post my letter here with the hope that you will consider sending a valentine to yourself.

Dear Little Susie (at approx. age 10),

Baby girl, you can’t live like this, full of fear and feelings of inadequacy. I get it. There are times when you don’t feel like the world is a safe place. And all you want is for everything to be alright. You just want everyone to be happy. When your father moved out and went away, you thought, if I am less messy, less loud, less emotional, Dad will come back. But it’s life. It’s not in your control. It never was. You are loved exactly as you are: loud, emotional, willful you.

I know it’s confusing. You want to be seen and heard and loved. But when you talk a lot, you wonder, Why can’t I shut up? Why can’t I be more like the neighbor girl who is so quiet and pretty, who plays the violin, who knows when to speak and what to say to make everything go smoothly? You think, maybe if I grow up to be calm, pretty, and say what others want to hear, then I’ll be seen and heard and loved. 

I see you at 8 years old, around Christmas time. You were supposed to set the table for dinner. You wanted it to be special, so you found red candles and lit them on top of your grandmother’s white, hand-stitched tablecloth. You didn’t know the candles would drip and drip and ruin the tablecloth. You wondered, Why can’t I do anything right? It’s not your fault. You are a perfect human being, growing exactly as you should grow.

And then you notice that you get a lot of attention when you achieve. When you go to see your Dad, he hugs you tight when you show him your perfect score on your spelling test. Your mom tells her friends about the 800m race you won at the track meet and they look at you with sparkling eyes full of approval. Achieving seems like an answer. If you just keep bringing home perfect scores and winning races, then you’ll be OK. Then you’ll be loved. Then you’ll be safe.

I’m here to tell you, as your older, wiser self–you are safe right now. I have seen your future and it’s all going to work out. It doesn’t matter if you fail a spelling test or fifty spelling tests, you’re safe. You will not be left alone.

I’m sorry. I should have been here for you sooner. I’ve been busy running our strategy of achieving in order to earn love. I forgot you needed me in your corner. I’m here now. And I’m never going to leave you.

I want you to know that there is nothing you can do to make me love you less; you can lie to your parents, steal from a store, rip the arm off your brother’s GI Joe action figure, and I will still love you. There is also nothing you can do to make me love you more; no matter how cute you make yourself look, or if you start a non-profit to save the world, I won’t love you more. You’re enough. It is safe to be 100% who you are, exactly as you are. Can you feel the tight hug that I am giving you right now? Feel how good it is to be held. Relax and breathe in all this love. I’ve got you.

Baby girl, there’s one more thing. You never quite grasped how exceptional you are. It’s time for you to believe it. Spread your arms wide and take up space. Shake off that worry. Make as much noise as you want and dance your little pigtails off. Release your wild, abundant, beautiful self. The world is waiting.

I love you,

Susie 

With special thanks to Michael Vladeck who encouraged me to do this!