I’m a week late, but I think that can be excused after
Trump managing to get himself elected on my birthday.
Dear Year 28 – Let’s have a chat,
When Year 25 rolled around, I laid out the lessons I had learned before then. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the stupid ones. There were a bit of those. In my letter to Year 26, I recounted my accomplishments and hoped that year 26 would hand me her best. She did. She handed me her best rock bottom, with a side of risks, and a 10mg dosage of Lexapro. When Year 27 came around, I greeted him with a letter too, but this letter was full of guidelines and rules. That year, I was not to be fucked with. Year 27 followed suit, but handed me a new set of challenges just shortly before his departure. So for you, Year 28, I’m hoping we can do things a little differently. I want us to be partners as I tackle the new set of challenges left from Year 27.
I want us to battle this thing of Love.
No, not the romantic kind. Though as challenging as that one is, I have a partner for that one already, and I’m learning to trust him more each and every day.
I’m referring to the love that I have for myself. The type of love that drives my passions, and catapults me into a new level of appreciation for… well, myself. I’m referring to the love, that doesn’t have me avoid mirrors, or body-con dresses, or 10 year high-school reunions happening the day after Thanksgiving. I’m specifically talking about that undeniable love one has for themselves, that nobody else can offer them, you know, the love I hope to promote and teach women to gain with the likes of Certified 10.
My favorite piece of advice for any young woman struggling with her sense of self is to fall madly, and deeply in love with herself. I’d tell her to become her biggest fan, her greatest cheerleader, and to teach herself to be louder than her bitchiest hater (which ironically is also herself). This is the only way to truly live, because when one loves themselves, they create a barrier of confidence that cannot be penetrated by the likes of self-doubt and/or sometimes the occasional comedic self-deprecating thoughts. When one loves themselves, it’s cliché I know, but they become disgustingly unstoppable and move forward with plans, decisions, roadmaps, aha moments with ease.
I think that’s one thing I’ve had wrong in the past years: my theory on working through the basis of fear.
Yes, fear can lead us to plan incredible things (and some shitty, shitty things, but that’s a different post), but fear is not why we execute. We execute out of faith. Faith in ourselves, and faith in what we are doing. We create out of confidence and pitch and negotiate because damn it, we know our worth. We make shit happen because of an unmatched and unbridled abundance of love we have for ourselves, and that seems to be lacking here with Phenomenal Yetti.
Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Phenomenal Yetti. She’s incredible in her own questionable ways. But Phenomenal Yetti is not just Phenomenal Yetti. She’s Phenomenal Yetti 3.0 and she has been growing, and stretching, and evolving. And with all these changes that are happening to Phenomenal Yetti… I think I need to get to know this new version, so I can fall crazy in love with her, as I have done with the rest.
I’ve been pretty quiet this year. Tame even. Being low-key has become my new standard, and not because I enjoy being a wallflower, but because I don’t trust myself enough to push forward with changes and ideas that may ruffle a few feathers. But with you, Year 28, I think we can do more than ruffle a few feathers. I think we can leave that bird bald and naked. Because I am ready to bloom beautifully, and vividly. I’ll be a flower that survives every season. I have some noise I want to make. Like real noise, because our country now needs black women’s voices more than ever. So year 28, we can roar and stamp our feet together, but first… let’s get back to the basics, and teach me to love me again.
Phenomenal Yetti (the upgraded version)