Dear 10-Year Old Heather

Hey weirdo,

I know it doesn’t seem like any adult on the planet could possibly understand what it’s like to be you- but there’s one. Me. I know that you’re only in Year 2 of the repercussions of that at-home haircut you begged your mom for in 3rd grade, and I’m sorry to tell you kid, it’s ain’t gonna get any better any time soon. You should really embrace the curls and just go with it, but it will be YEARS before that look becomes a thing, so you’re kinda screwed either way. I know it makes you feel like crap when kids call you “puff” but, please trust me when I tell you that almost none of those kids turn out to be anything to worry about. The meanest ones are usually the ones who are struggling the most, and you’re going to end up being much cooler than those jerks. I know how hard it is to believe that at this point, but trust me.

There’s nothing I can say that will actually reach you and change the course of our destiny, but it’s nice to try. If there were one thing I would want you do get from this, it would be to start listening to yourself now. Start thinking about who you are, what makes you happy. You’re about to spend the next many years going along with the crowd, doing and saying what you think you need to do to fit in (mostly because of that hair), accepting situations you aren’t comfortable with, and being insecure in yourself because you don’t believe you’re good enough. Well, kid, I won’t lie. You’re a late bloomer. You’re not even going to go to prom. I know. Let that sink in.

I will tell you some good things. There are things inside of you, thoughts and feelings that make you different. Right now it just makes you feel awkward, but one day those ideas and that “weirdness” you feel will finally make sense. You’ll be safe to be yourself and you’ll be confident enough not to care so much what other people think. Being brave is always the hardest thing for you. I’m 27 years farther into this thing than you are, and I still struggle with that part. It gets easier. Take chances and know you might fail. Know that when you fail, you learn. And the lessons make it all worth it. You’re never going to get that chorus solo, but it’s fun to try. But you ARE going to win that writing contest. KEEP GOING.

You know Oprah? I know you do, you watch her every day at 4, you lucky duck. (Enjoy that until about 2010 or so.) I was listening to her podcast today (it’s a future thing) and I was reminded that without hard times, good times wouldn’t even matter. If your childhood and my adulthood were perfect, what the heck could we possibly be learning? Nothing. We’d be just like your bullies, not striving to be better, or trying to connect with our true selves. We’d just be floating through life like these numb bobbleheads. That’s just not our style, kid. You know it and I know it. So stop trying to iron your hair. Stop worrying about what the other kids think. Write your stories and share them. Keep organizing secret clubs and making up imaginary scenarios about ghosts on the playground. Keep practicing your corny jokes, because I still use those a lot.

And for the love, ask an adult to explain the stock market to you, and invest in Google.