Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Dear me,

You know what it's like when you start browsing through old photos - as I had to do for Auntie Maud's photo frame - you end up getting distracted.

Over on his blog, Saintly Nick did a meme that involve writing a letter to his 13-year-old self from where he is now. I said I might do it but I'm not going to; it's too much like something my therapist would get me to do.

Do you like that? The way I casually dropped in that I have a therapist? Actually I haven't seen for months as he's always in Cambodia or Russia or somewhere (the places people will go to get away from me) but, for a time, a few years ago, I saw him regularly.

I was very anxious about everything and it was affecting my life generally until the doctor finally gave me my happy pills and I began seeing my therapist. In truth I think the pills do more good but I have learned things about myself through the therapy.

Back to the photos. I grew up alongside my cousin who was six months older than me. Six months older, and a million times prettier and more confident. She was the pretty one; I was the clever one (at least in comparison). And I would have given all my brains to be her then.

If I were to say anything to my 13-year-old self it would be this: you're not fat or ugly; you have a right to be here; don't spend your life hiding; be yourself; you're pretty damn special.