A letter to my younger self: concerning your body.

Dearest Savannah,

I wish I could tell you that, at the end of this story, you are alright with your body. I can't.

It will begin with snide comments of insecure, hard-hearted friends.

They will say you're fat. You aren't, but I can say that a hundred times and it won't change how you feel.

"Gosh, Savvy! You're such a pig!"

"Don't leave those around Savannah. She'll inhale the whole bag before you can set them down."

"You're chubby, like my sister."

"You should really consider eating healthier. Maybe then you wouldn't feel so bad about how you look."

"See? That's what junk food does to your thighs. I told you so."

"A bikini, Sav? Really? I thought you hated your stomach."

"You've got such a flat butt. Too bad you can't move the fat from everywhere else to your butt."

"Don't sit on my lap, you're gonna crush me!"

Expect these comments. They will come. Each one of them from girls more insecure about their own bodies than you are.

You'll start to be more critical of yourself in the mirror. You'll start to see the love handles that your friends keep teasing you about. You're thighs will start to look much fuller than they had before. Your stomach will suddenly be described as "poochy" by all your friends.

You'll laugh when they poke your stomach and say "Jello!". When you get home, you'll skip dinner and burn calories by crying yourself to sleep.

I wish that you wouldn't have to experience this part, but I cannot change the past.

You will grow up with this mentality, amplified when you realize that boys are much more attractive than they used to be. Suddenly, every boy in the world will seem to be staring at your "pudgy" middle section. On those days, you'll go to sleep as soon as you get home, ignoring the hunger pangs and growling.

Sometimes, you'll be fine with your body. Actually, no. Sometimes you will forget about your body.

High school is when it will become unbearable. You'll befriend gorgeous, goddess-like girls with abs and perky butts and teeny tiny waists. Looking at them will make you feel like a whale. The shirt you thought looked good on you in the morning starts to highlight your love handles when you check yourself in the mirror later in the day.

Googling "ways to slim down in a week" and "how to lose weight fast" will bring you to some unhealthy conclusions about weight loss. You will attempt water diets that make you feel like death. You will try diet pills that give you the worst headaches ever. You will give up eating for a couple days at a time. Your body will shake in deprivation. You will spend most of your days standing on a scale, staring down at the numbers in dismay.

Food will be your enemy. I wish I could say that this changes, but I don't think that it does. It hasn't yet.

Little Savannah, I want so badly to wrap you in my arms and protect you from this future. You beautiful, tiny little thing. I wish you could stay so innocent and free. I wish that you wouldn't ever have to look into a mirror and frown. I wish that you could see what everyone else sees.

You will cling to the attention of boys, thinking that if you find "the one", he can fix you. He can't. I promise you.

Nothing can fix you. I don't even think therapy would erase the thoughts permanently.

Instead, I ask you - beg you - to not give in. Be strong. Do not look at pictures of skinny girls to guilt yourself into starvation. You will never be them without being dead. Do not compare yourself to your friends. No diets. You are not unhealthy. Eat.

Appreciate your body for what it does. Be fascinated by the fact that you have eyebrows. Be proud that you stopped biting your nails (you'll kick that habit in 8th grade). Drink hot chocolate on a cold night and enjoy the feeling of heat radiating from your core.

Boys will find you attractive. Girls will say things like "I would die to have your boobs". When someone says, "You are so beautiful," or "You have such a nice little figure," believe them. Say, "Thank you".
Mean it.

You are valuable, even when you cannot see it.

Love,
Yourself

A letter to my younger self: concerning hard-hearted friends.

Dear Savannah,

This is the story of how you will learn to love people deeply, but it's not so much a happy one.

You are little when this story starts. An impressionable age. Life will be fun and fresh and filled to the brim with adventure. These are the days that your heart is most soft. These are the days that will callous your heart.

It will start out in innocent, teasing comments. They will say that you're fat. (They are lying, but more on that later.)

At first, you won't care. Their snide comments are just words. Your mother will say that they are simply "insecure", but you won't understand her yet. Instead, you'll tough it up and continue with your friendships.

One day, they won't invite you over to their party. It will hurt because they made a point of specifically not inviting you. This will confuse you before it hurts you.

They will laugh at you. They will tell you that they don't want to hang out with you because your parents are so strict. You will be the odd one out.

They will make fun of you for being homeschooled. They will say you don't "understand" what public school is like. They will say that you're fat and ugly, and when you put makeup on, they will call you a "cake face" and a "slut".

They will make up stories about you. In those stories, you will always be the slut. You will always be the tattle-tale. You will always be the one without self-control around food. You will always be the undesirable.

You will come home crying every Wednesday night and Sunday morning. You will develop eating disorders. Your blue eyes will start to look like "dirty sea water". Your hips will become "love handles" and your stomach will be the object of much poking and prodding. You will not respect yourself. You will begin to hate yourself.

This is why you will learn to love so deeply.

After many years, you will be able to understand your mother's words. They are insecure. This is why they are so unbearably cruel to you. You are untainted. Happy without much reason. They cannot understand you. People destroy what they cannot understand.
Remember this always.

You will come to a point in your life where you have two choices - two paths.

On the one hand, you can continue this cycle of pain. Stay bitter. Harden your heart. Treat others with that same sharpness that you were beaten down with. Be cruel. Destroy what you can no longer understand.

Or you can be the antidote of cruelty. Live your life solely for the purpose to furthering your Savior's love. Be kind. Gentle. Empathize with the down-trodden. Lift up the sorrowful. Laugh at jokes that aren't funny, just to be encouraging. Mend the wounds of others with prayer and love. Be merciful to the ones who hurt you.

You, courageous little rebel, will choose the latter. You won't be perfect. You will gossip and regret it. You will hurt people on accident and then in anger. You will become bitter from new wounds. But you will apologize and you will forgive.

Savannah, this is where you will learn to love deeply.

You will look past snide comments. You will see straight into hurting hearts. You will see them for what they are. You will embrace the insecure and tell them how beautiful and talented and wonderful and incredible they are.

You will understand that love is loving unconditionally, not liking when convenient. You will read books of characters who are far from perfect, and you will fall in love with them. You will fall in love with broken people, and kind people, and skewed people, and people from history, and people from fiction, and everyone in between. You will protect the ones you love.

This pain is necessary. You are valuable, even when hard-heart friends cannot understand you.

Love,
Yourself

A letter to my younger self: concerning the trickster boy.

Dear Savannah,

You precious, unabashed little thing. Let me tell you a story.

Life is not as lousy as they say. In fact, I quite like it, now.

But life isn't always kind. You're going to learn this soon.

You'll meet a boy. (Well, actually, you'll meet several, but more on that later.)
He'll fascinate you like a piece of art. You'll study his every word, his voice, his mouth, the way he sighs when he's frustrated. He will captivate you by just existing. He will fulfill every inkling you ever had about what you think a boyfriend should be like.

You'll say he's perfect. You'll be horribly, horribly wrong.

Instead, he will bring a torrent of pain like rushing water upon you. Be wary of this. Do not fall in love with him. Do not entwine him around your heart, because he comes to take, take, take.

He will make you question everything. He will turn you against your friends. He will use you.

You are a peg in his ladder, not the top rung.

You'll be hurt, and you will sever your ties from him. Good. He does not deserve you. Hold fast, my tender friend.

Wallow in defeat for a while. Sing your pain out at the top of your lungs. (This is why Taylor Swift writes albums.) When your sister sneers at your pain, ignore her. She will understand next autumn.

In time, you'll overcome the pain. Summer will be a memory, and you will move on. You will reestablish your friendships and you will let your guard down.

He will hurt you again. This is your sign to leave him alone. Do not pursue him.

This time, your sister will be the one in tears. You need to be there for her.

Do not say "I told you so". Be kind. Listen to her. Nod and hum and make sympathetic faces while her red eyes squeeze out more tears. Do not tell her you understand, even though you do. She wants to feel justified, like she's the only one who has felt this pain. She wants to cry like a warrior, like a martyr. Do not laugh at her, even though she mocked your pain first. Be strong.

Do not push the trickster boy off of his ladder in anger. The other pegs in his ladder will drag him down to earth for you. They will crack and splinter under his weight. They will drop him like a stone in water. Do not stoop to his level. But do not help him back up.

The pain goes away. You are young and sweet and kind and gentle. You are valuable, even though he couldn't see so.

Love,
Yourself

An introduction.

My name is Savannah.
I'm freshly 17, and my favorite color is currently blue. Again.

This blog will be a personal blog about my thoughts.

I don't know how often I'll post, nor do I know what I'll say next.

I am a dynamic human being, and my thoughts and views are constantly changing.

My goal in life is to always be gentle and kind, and never, ever to hurt others.

That said, this blog will be honest, and I apologize if what I say is not what you want to hear. Well, I apologize for all but one thing:

I serve a God who is inexplicably kind to me. He is the reason I live, and I do not apologize for my adoration of Him. 

My life experiences will be honest, but the names and places and times will be changed to protect both the guilty and the innocent.

If you feel so inclined, feel free to read what I have to say. I am an open book. A story in progress.

My name is Savannah, and this is my story.