You just might be facing a whole lot from life that you at times forget what it felt like when you were just a child, just growing up and half of your problems today didn’t just exist. You may be trapped by so many demands of life, that sometimes you forget to smile or even recount at a point in your life, you knew true happiness, you felt true love, and at some point your life truly had essence. You were free to dream, to wish, to fantasize and truly be all that you could ever imagine.
Then somehow along the line, came your half-sister “adulthood” she was never around so you barely recognized her nor understood how best to act. Yet, one thing was certain she was here to stay and you had to live with it – your new reality.
It’s exhausting, demanding, uncertain, tricky, opinionated, brain-wracking, to say the least, a battlefield. But, how about, you take a moment, breathe, breathe again and grab an ink, a notepad, now let it out. Yes, go on, recount, write – a letter to your five-year-old. Self, sometimes that’s all the therapy you need to heal, to be refreshed, to be reminded that you are awesome, enough, always have been and you can do it.
Below is mine
Dear Five-Year-Old self
Hello, how are you faring? Though, I know that’s needless to ask. If there was any genuity left in the world, your response “I’m fine” fits in too perfectly. Because, at five you were most usually a 100% fine, you lived upto the phrase, completely full of energy. At age five if anything at the slightest pricked your tranquility, you knew too well, to make it known to mom and dad. It was never your responsibility how they got it done, still got it done, it was all theirs to figure it out, while you waited like a bride on her prince charming until the situation was fixed.
Dear five-year-old self, do you recall how we played hide and seek with the neighbours kids? Do you recall the times we eagerly chanted “mummy or daddy welcome” in our mother tongue of course, or tune a welcome song to dad and mom whenever they arrived knowing too well without a shadow of doubt there was an edible reward in view.
How about when we broke the dishes and got some lashes, so we threw tantrums, sometimes refused a meal, just to buy our parents attention. Lots of laughs, it did the trick mostimes, I miss the hide and seeks, the evening strolls with dad- our superhero and the sweet scent of mom’s hotpie that taunts in our dream all into reality as it jolts us up from our birds and quickens us to grab our knapsacks for school. Oh dear! That’s something I can only wish for now. These days, adulthood doesn’t fall to that trick, you are always at liberty to reject your meals when upset as either another eager stomach awaits it or you pay the price with a stomach ache.
Dear five-year-old self, do you remember reciting those rhymes with complete faith you will be a doctor, a lawyer or those dream professions you adored on TV? You were told good grades was the only sure key and you made sure to secure them, especially when mom had promised you a bicycle or some fancy toy you craved.
You came second place, a little more than once, a grade not good enough for mom and dad. No thanks, to your teacher or even yourself for ruining your Christmas, now you had to have another without a bicycle, or that blazers, not even a trip to somewhere fancy. Though, when you weighed the odds between you and Angie, who had one or all of your dream things but came tenth place, then you gradually realized it was never about the grades but something about the lack, they called it “money” and our parents never seemed to have had it enough. But, adulthood have shown that me that wasn’t exactly what mattered, but the love, the candies, the thanksgiving meals, and all the little things, we did that made my best childhood memories did.
Dear five-year-old self, whatever way it looks today, whatever has become of our relationship, fact remains I miss you; the freedom, the lack of worry, the peace, the ability to tackle just one task at a time, the proper sleep without disruptions from human intrusion or these alarms, the ability to live in the moment, interacting with nature, absolutely void of problems and even more the freedom to cry without holding back, or bottling it in like some superhuman and of course the feeling of relief afterwards. The very simple life of a five-year-old self, where your only competitions were who came first place.
But then, I can’t live you twice. So I appreciate the experiences, the moments that stays evergreen, the opportunity to feel and archive those feelings to cherish them in all life phases, the lessons you subtly thought me, that shades light on this adulthood cloudy path. I love you my five year old self, always will.
Leave a comment if you can relate to this and tell us about your five-year-old self.