Dear 20 Year Old Me,

I just cracked open a journal entry I wrote ten years ago today.  And I have some words for 20 Year Old Me!

Dear 20 Year Old Me,

I scoff at you at first.  I don't know why I'm embarrassed for you.  I just am.

And then I realize, it was OK to be excited for the things you were excited about. New hair, major weight loss, learning new things. And I realized I'm never going to learn what I need to learn from you and move on from the pain of the past if I scoff at you off the bat.

I'm sorry, 20 Year Old Me, for scoffing that you found your g-spot in one breath and then say you found Jesus Christ in another.  Both are super private things to you--sex and prayer are mutually private things for you.  You don't do either publicly.

I'm happy to report that I retained many of the lessons you learned. I'm still skeptical at cell phones ... nobody needs to have access to me all the time.  I'm a woman of mystery, g-spots and all!

So it's OK, 20 Year Old Me, that you clumsily spill your soul for everyone to see. I want to let my light shine like you used to, but without shame.  I feel so much shame nowadays just for being myself that it cripples me, I discover.

Through you I located a lifetime resolution to feel less ashamed, to use the pre-frontal cortex that you lacked back then for good, not for evil self-loathing. It's good to have judgment, but there's no need to constantly side-eye myself or to take other people's side-eyeing to heart each and every single time.