Eight

I'm a little addicted to postsecret. Some of my happiest memories with Steven were Sunday mornings when the two of us would wake up and snuggle up together in bed and read the secrets together. It would start conversations and encourage us (or, I suppose, maybe just me) to be honest and open and trust the other person with the hard things. At a time when the two of us were desperately searching for something, it was the closest thing we had to religion.

I still check it on Sunday mornings (or, if I've forgotten, Mondays). I love the fact that this little experiment has grown into such a social phenomenon and that people who have felt totally alone are finding hope and community in such an unlikely place.

One of this week's secrets was this: "If I could talk to my eight year old self, I'd say, "Things will get easier, I promise." (It took 16 years, but I am finally at peace with myself.)"

People responded with what they would say to their own eight year old selves and it got me thinking. Things like "stop watching TV" and "don't forget to fly" and "brush your teeth."

I've put a lot of thought into it, and here's what I think I would say to my eight year old self:

"You don't have to be the best at everything. In fact, you will be better off if you're not. Trying to be perfect will cripple you. Be yourself - for better or worse; whether that's straight A's or just average. Accept yourself as you are and you'll be far happier. Perfect averages and a dozen awards will never make you happy.

Your identity will never be wrapped up in your illness, in your intelligence, or in your success. Release yourself of that. You will always be a child of God, first and foremost. Claim that and you will find yourself infinitely happier than grades and 'success' will ever make you."