Welcome to the Present
<<2003-02-25 - 11:04 a.m.>>

My first reaction: I would do something drastic to be able to go back in time and give advice to my twelve-year-old self. I would calm her and comfort her and tell her that it's all right, that she's okay, that the world is not going to grow teeth in the night and rip her to shreds, that grown-ups don't always act grown up and it's okay to be mad at them for that, that it's okay to be mad at people and tell them so, that she's a good person, that being a bit fat is not a physical manifestation of some deep personal inadequacy, that she doesn't have to go to Yale, that feelings are scary sometimes but it's better to feel them than to numb them, that she is lovable...a million things I want to tell that little girl.

My second reaction, as I started to type: Would it have helped?

Is there any way to tell a girl living in fear of exposing her shame that she doesn't need to be ashamed? Is there any way to tell a girl living in an emotional minefield that it's okay to be angry?

If I could go back, would it all happen that way anyway? Would I still end up in a three-year stupor? Would I still have needed to weigh over three hundred pounds? Would I still feel the veneer keeping me from other people?

Obviously, I can't know, but I can't help wondering. I've wondered this with Zibby, too, I remember: was there any way this could have been averted?

My parents could have known better, I suppose. But can you keep someone from thinking things? And can you keep a child from knowing those thoughts?

I don't know what answer I want here. Here I am, dealing with the fallout, and I don't know if I'd prefer it to have been preventable or inevitable. Because on the one hand, if it had been preventable—what a waste. But if it had been inevitable—no way out.

Of course, it's really all moot anyway. Here I am. Learn to deal with it.

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