The Bond With a Student

By: Stephanie Hartline
TLP Letter Writer

I’ve experienced the joy of wearing many hats through my life: wife, mom, student, writer, gardener, fitness instructor, and one that I’ve worn the longest: teacher. My profession as a high school English teacher has become such an integral part of my persona that I sometimes feel that I want to wear a sign in the summer that says, ”I’m a teacher” just so people know that I really do work hard—I’m just taking a short break for a while.

Unnecessarily, people apologize for their speech or writing when they know they are talking with an English teacher. “My spelling isn’t that good” or “I don’t really like to read” are confessions I’ve received. What they don’t know is that teaching language arts through the years has become so much more than analyzing characters or putting commas in the correct places in a sentence. As a language teacher, I am gifted with reading about my students’ life experiences and innermost thoughts. I’m often overwhelmed to be the person in whom they place their trust to share the highs and lows of their lives.

Some students, of course, have stood out to me through the years for various reasons. Three young women have secured a bond with me even after high school and college—and even into their adult lives.

Kate was the first to reach out to me at a high school dance as I was the chaperone. It was my first year in the building, and she knew I was a little hesitant. She pulled me onto the dance floor, and it was all uphill from that point on. It sounds like a plot of a love story; no, but it was the start of a mutual love and concern for each other. I saw Kate though some tough times at college, and some rough dates post-graduation! I was present at her wedding, and one of the first to know about each of her pregnancies.

I just saw another student friend, Katie, last week. She is now a school guidance counselor and we were talking about the stress of COVID-19 on her students. She said she wanted to give them a safe place to talk “like you were for me, Steph.” The idea that some encounters that I provided for someone years ago was now being used as a role model to help young students fills me with great pride. Katie brings her three boys to my pool for a yearly swim and catch-up. (Side note---they play with my son’s old dinosaurs and sharks!)  They joy comes not just in seeing these little guys as they develop and grow, but sharing time with my friend.

I see Kelly most frequently. We share a love for books, travel, and education. You see, Kelly is now a high school teacher herself! We compare notes, and I welcome her insights and borrowed lesson plans. We can talk for hours without taking many breaths…and I know she considers me one of her good friends.

The best part of these friendships—and I think a pretty impressive one-- is that all three of these young women do not see the 25 year age gap as a barrier to our friendship. They always ask about my kids and their relationships and jobs. The reach out when they know I need support. I treasure these young women—I tell them that often.

As I approach another school year I look forward to meeting a new group of young, anxious, eager faces. Ninth graders are so scared, but I always aim to ease their fears and anxiety. Little do they know that they have adults in their lives who will not only teach them math skills, map skills, sentence structure and a new language, but who may provide safety and perhaps a lifelong friendship.

Not an Introvert

By: Kaniz Sumiya
TLP Letter Writer

Not an Introvert

For a long time, I thought I was introverted, that I just kept to myself because I didn’t want to bother speaking. Really, that was what I told myself, a means of consolation. The truth was that I shook at the mere thought of making friends, speaking to people, and having to maintain eye contact with someone. In fact, one of the most awful parts of high school was an activity in which our teacher forced us to shout as loud as we could, an activity to release our tension. I was able to shout, but my insecurities had straight-up attacked me, and what should’ve been a lion’s roar was the sound of a squeak.

That moment was all in one mortifying and beyond embarrassing, yet somewhere along the line, I never realized that I wasn’t just reserved but I was afraid.

I was even afraid of how my shout would sound that day.

I was afraid every single day of my life, afraid that I wasn’t good enough, not confident enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough.

I was not an introvert, I was anxious and terrified.

Eventually, I grew sick of my entrapment. Rather than one moment of realization and a flood of emotions, it had all built up over time until it just struck me. I stared at my cracked ceiling every night and I wondered about every single time I was ignored and pushed over. Most importantly, I thought about how I cared whether someone liked me or not all the time- but did I ask myself whether I liked them?

Unfortunately, this change wasn’t immediate, then again, change never is. It started with merely taking the time to get used to hearing how my ideas translate into words and mentally reciting and rephrasing the same sentence 100 times before I even let the words leave my mouth. When I did begin to use my voice, whether at get-togethers or gatherings, people looked at me in bewilderment.

Like I imagined, not everyone was happy with my change. To name a few, my aunts disliked my interjections when they spoke about appearances. My boisterous classmates hated the idea of not being able to speak over me. Even some of the people, who I thought were my friends, got angry when they saw I wouldn’t oblige to their every request.

In a way, this made me come to a bigger realization, that this fear had stemmed from a long line of judgment I had known existed and fostered in people’s minds. The only difference now was I started to ignore it. I was so sick of wishing and dreaming to the point where I knew I couldn’t see change if I didn’t commit to it myself.

This large transition was not easy- I lost many, and in a way, I lost part of my old self as soon the word “no '' was added to my dictionary. But I was okay with it.

Thinking back, this transition could have been so much easier, if only I had someone to tell me that I could rely on them and that my voice mattered. That’s why, I’m here to tell you that you do matter, and that life is too short to be living as someone else. Some words of wisdom: “Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.”

[Writer Experience] Connection for the disconnected

By: Jaclyn Weber-Hiil
TLP Letter Writer

Connection for the disconnected

The year of 2020 was a challenge for me. I was dealing with the “new normal” of a pandemic but I was also forced to confront my lowest point of mental health head-on. I began talk therapy in August 2020 and am still actively going. In therapy, I talk a lot about myself, but my first therapist decided to send me on the journey of talking to others. My anxiety was very severe at that point in my treatment and I needed to be taken out of my own head and find the connection that I was missing so much in a world where social distancing was a safety measure. To fulfill the missing connection, he wanted me to write letters to other people also in need of connection or encouragement. I went to Google and started looking for the right fit of letter writing and how I could embark on a safe and emotionally fulfilling journey, which is how I found The Letter Project. I signed up to become a letter writer and began to read through the requests for bundles from the women and girls on behalf of themselves or the family and friends on the behalf of their loved ones. After reading through the requests and writing my first initial letter, I was hooked.

I loved the idea of sending encouragement out into the world to others who needed it, just like I did and still do sometimes. I loved reading the brave stories of people who solicited help for themselves, but I am also touched by those who solicit help for the loved ones who may not always see themselves as worthy of needed encouragement. I was eventually able to request a bundle for myself, in hopes to have my very own little piece of this beautifully baked pie that this organization had created.

I didn’t really understand the impact of the bundle until over 20 plus letters from all over the world began to filter into my mailbox.

Hand-written, decorated, and beautifully written words of encouragement began to pile up and I was in awe. Let’s face it, 2020 was a challenging year for humanity globally, so the idea that so many people read my story and chose to take time out of their days to lift me up was life-changing. The bundle of letters made me feel seen, loved, and like I had a cheering section from all over the four corners of this beautiful planet.

I wanted to pay it forward in some way and offer a connection of hope, the same connection served to me in a time where I believed in so little of hope myself.

The letters offered me a chance to give myself a break from worry and stress. A chance to sit still and read over and over the importance of small but impactful gestures. Every week became my moment to pause and pray that I would deliver the same feeling to girls and women around the world. I wrote for every letter that I received and then some. A cathartic process that allowed me to realize what I had in me was not just a gift to others, but myself as well.

As I took the time from my day with a message of hope and encouragement via stamps and handwritten letters, I felt an unspoken network grow. We all need little reminders once in a while that we can achieve anything we set our minds to, no matter how big or small. It was to a point that every letter I wrote I felt a piece of myself become stronger knowing that I could make the same impact I had been blessed with. It has been a full circle process and so unexpected, just as the past year has become.

As we begin to transition back to our normal “before” lives, I gained a lasting effect to reach out and not only find the sunshine in the clouds for myself but also provide it to others who are on the same journey I am and may not even know it.

Imperfectly Perfect

Written By: Emily Winter, The Letter Project Board Member

“… But I also worry about people who cruise through life, friction-free, for a long, long time before encountering their first real failure. They have so little practice falling and getting up again… I see a lot of invisibly vulnerable high-achievers stumble in young adulthood and struggle to get up again. I call them the “fragile perfects…” …these bright and wonderful people know how to succeed but not how to fail.”

– Grit, by Angela Duckworth

The frightening imperfect paragraph: Lately, I have been in a funk, or more like a roller-coaster funk. I ride up, eyes filled with hope, only to feel the energy exhale out of me on the way back down. In fact, I haven’t felt like writing at all. Sometimes I don’t feel creative enough or stupid for thinking I can write. But even when I don’t feel like writing, I know how important words on paper are to me. There are a variety of reasons why I have been feeling this way, but this post is not supposed to be a personal diary entry. There. I said it.

Now let’s talk about the destruction of perfectionism or rather how joy and possibility are wrapped in what is imperfect.

Perfectionism is not something that is given to you but rather internally driven by a whole host of fun environmental and psychological factors. Some include the fear of disapproval from others, inadequacy, correlations with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) and general anxiety, rigid parental expectations, and excessive praise for achievements. As a kid, it is difficult to put a name to your tendencies, and maybe it is unnecessary as we develop so that we can just be instead of self-diagnosing and stuffing ourselves in little labeled boxes too early in life.

So, what sparked this idea of perfectionism? For me, it is something I have experienced through my personal history but recently, a broken TV stand. I purchased a new TV stand. Before making the purchase, I did my research, just like any good over analytical perfectionist would. I browsed online, created special folders on my desktop, visited several shops (double trips to some), to eventually settle on having one shipped to me. Two weeks passed, and my oversized box arrived. I opened my oversized box only to find that the leg on the stand was snapped. Oh no… a snapped leg was not part of the plan. A snapped leg does not fit into my schedule. A snapped leg looks bad, let alone is NOT functional! A snapped leg… is ruining my life. You see because now I have a snapped TV leg and anxiety. The TV stand leg could not be snapped because that meant my “getting organized” timeline was pushed back. That meant more browsing. That meant in some way I was falling behind…

I had become a fragile perfect.

I understand that a broken TV leg might sound like some “privileged nonsense,” but the point is not that that disliking a broken TV stand makes you a perfectionist. The point is that perfectionism is less about the broken TV stand and more about our perception of ourselves. To be upset about something that silly and let it bleed into corners of life, reveal a slot machine of underlying emotions; (pull)… insecurity… (pull)… I am not good enough… (pull)… good things don’t happen to me… (pull)… I can’t afford or deserve nice things… (pull)… I’ll never achieve the things I want to achieve… 

You see perfectionism has been flowing through my bloodstream, likely since birth. On the Enneagram test I scored a whopping 98% as a “Type 1 Reformer” and 93% as a “Type 4 Individualist” - summed up as a “creative perfectionist.” On paper, this makes me feel like a walking paradox but in spiritual terms, it would make sense. Every human being, regardless of dominant personality traits are a piece of art and perfect art is imperfect.  

Truth be told, I once wore my perfectionism as a badge of honor, that I was somehow more prepared than the next person, saw details others could not see or to present to the world that damnit, I had it together, ALL of the time. But who’s fault is that - if anyone’s? Isn’t this how we are scored, tested, challenged through school until working for large companies or owning our own? Don’t we all have certain people or family members who passively reveal when we are most valuable in their eyes? Doesn’t social media train us “you must BE someone in this world” not just you but someone others look at and want to be.

Now, I see my perfectionism through a kaleidoscope lens. The pretty picture is there, and I can see it, but it is limited by different shapes and angles. When you turn a kaleidoscope, the image sits but the colors and frames keep changing or slightly tilt. You can never see the whole picture without some impairment or shadow. But that is what makes it so fascinating and beautiful once you sit and stare at it long enough. Perfectionism is like this. You see the whole picture, but it is unattainable. You are constantly chasing a perfect idea that cannot be captured without some distraction, detour, pause or mishap.

Now, as a seasoned perfectionist, I have experienced real heartbreaks, failures, and setbacks that sting far more than a broken leg on a TV stand. And although I can now appreciate the subtle gifts perfectionism can provide like having the drive and self-awareness to improve or to have the self-discipline to complete what I start… my new goal is to pride myself on the things that I let go of. The time that I learned how to stitch up a hole in the armpit of a shirt instead of buying a crisp new one. The time I spelled “thoroughly” wrong in a final draft for work. The time I couldn’t keep a succulent alive (one of the easiest plants to care for). The time our friendship ended. The time we moved a part and to different cities. The time burnout caused physical stress symptoms.  The time I used 1 tsp of paprika instead of a ½… and it still tasted great.

Imperfections breed happiness. Imperfection frees us from personal burdens. It gives us the flexibility to live a little lighter. Perfectionism keeps us closed off. It keeps us obeying made up rules and personal ideas. It leads to procrastination and paralysis. It keeps us limited. Perfectionism tricks us into thinking that the safe choice is the right choice when we need the courage to take the adventure.

I have heard the term “recovering perfectionist” and I like this term because deciding to “let go” more often cannot be a decision you make once. It is an ongoing experiment. It requires daily attention to the body, to energy, to relationships, and to objectives. For me right now, keeping tangible imperfect items around are good reminders. Hence, my now beautiful TV stand!

So… what happened with the broken TV stand? Well, it was fixed, and it has its blemishes. But it was fixed by my dad, which makes it that much more special than had it arrived in perfect condition. In fact, I like its “imperfect” so much that I decided not to install its doors, leaving more room for book clutter and décor (the clean kind of clutter, of course). And now, I no longer see it as a useless, fragile piece of furniture but as a memory with a strong, sturdy smile.

So go out there and find your imperfect, because it might just become your new favorite thing.

Self-Love

Written By: Emily Winter, The Letter Project Board Member

 Love is not a frenzied, desperate act.

It is not a thing that bestows worth upon a person.

The worth must come first, mined mostly on one's own.

-Places I Stopped on the Way Home: A Memoir of Chaos and Grace

March is Women’s History month, which calls for some self-love.

Showing up for yourself enables you to show up for others. As Dr. Nicole LePera puts it, “To experience authentic relationships you need to work on being one with your own authenticity.”

Let us use March as a time to not merely accept the differences we see between women but appreciate and honor our differences.

Let us use March as a time to set respectful boundaries when we do not relate or disagree.

Let us use March as a time to recognize women not only for their accomplishments but for just being women. 

Shifting our focus to questions and curiosity about ourselves will ultimately help us connect with each other.

So, use March to acknowledge how far you have come and to continually love and get to know yourself!

Show up for you [click on the colored text]:

v  Express yourself by doing something physical like improv, painting, pottery, writing, etc.

v  Get to know yourself by journaling with this motivational journal or wellness journal.

v  Take an awe-walk.

 v  Read The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown.

v  Join a flower subscription for a year here or here.  

v  Read Sharp: The Women Who Made an Art of Having an Opinion.

v  I loved working on this She Persisted puzzle.

v  Read The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd and contemplate a modern woman’s mind placed during the first century.

Women in History [click on the colored text]:

·       Henrietta Lacks, Hedy Lamarr, Patsy Mink, Faith Spotted Eagle, Gladys Bentley

 ·       Women Scientists Written Out of History

 ·       13 Women You Probably Haven’t Heard of...

 ·       17 Women You Likely Haven’t Heard Of

 ·       And a few more...

TLP Gratitude Challenge

Yesterday, we hosted our first-ever virtual Friendsgiving “Gals of Gratitude” event and we were blown away by the encouragement, vulnerability, and uplifting nature of each woman who gathered to join us! By demand, we’re bringing the Gals of Gratitude challenge workbook to you and invite you to share your experience with us on social media by tagging @toloveourselves on Instagram & using #TheLetterProject #TLPxGratitude.

Access the Gals of Gratitude Challenge Workbook.

As always, adopt this practice and challenge in a way that best fits you, your lifestyle, and your individual needs. Swap bible verses for mantras or quotes, write a thank you letter to yourself or to nurses/doctors in your community. This is about you. Our work at The Letter Project is about empowering all women as they experience different hardships, challenges, and tribulations through life — and that includes you. Thank YOU for showing up for yourself today and for your intention to live more graciously!

What Do You Stand For?

Written By: Lavanya Menon

When I was in 7th grade, I went for a summer camp at our school. I don’t remember much from it, but I do remember about one day. That day we were supposed to sit in a class when a substitute teacher came to us. I remember thinking we were going to do some fun activity or drawing or crafting, but instead we all just sat there for a while. Then the teacher got up from his chair and asked us one question; “What do you stand for”. The first thought that came to my mind was ‘what does that even mean?’, but then again. I was a child. That day I went home and the question kept me up all night because I didn’t know the answer to it. I asked my mom, but she didn’t know either and eventually I forgot about it.

A few days ago, I saw this very same question on a post on my feed and it got me wondering again. I thought for a long time, but then I stopped, and I looked. I looked around me and how far I’ve come and the people I’ve lost and gained along the way. ‘What do you stand for’ is an empowering question, and I had already found the answer to it by just looking? That would be impossible, but it’s true. I did find the answer to it and it’s that simple. I looked back to my 12- year old self that thought so hard about the answer to this very question and wished I could tell her that the answer was right there. You just have to see it.

So what do you stand for?

Do you want to be someone that is known for being understanding? Do you want to be someone that is known for their passion? How about someone that wants to make a difference in the world? Or do you want to be someone that is known to get things done right there. When your world gets messy or scattered and when you feel like you’re living for someone else, what do you stand for? What is that thing that you are willing to give it all up for? It’s simple.

You stand for whatever inspires you, whatever drives you to do better. To think better. And to love better. So, choose that ‘something’ that pushes you to be a person when you feel like the entire world is rooting for you to fail. Find your purpose and hold on to it because as long as you know who you are, you’ll be okay, I promise. Always remember that there is beauty in you no matter what.

That is what you stand for.

All the love,

Lavanya

What I Wish I Would've Known

Written By: Kimberly Crickette

Today I’m sharing a few things I wish I knew when I was younger. The lessons I have since learned are ones that I try to share with my younger sister in order to make her journey in this world a little less tumultuous. My hope in sharing these is that a few of my words resonate with someone else, even if the only idea you come away with is that the struggles you are wading through now may one day be lessons you no longer associate with fear or panic, but with tenderness and a new perspective. 

You always have a choice. 

When life feels heavy or stagnant, you can (and should!) reflect on which areas in your life you can make changes. It’s never too late to make those changes to mold a life that makes your soul feel bright, deeply alive, and full of purpose. This life is yours; don’t let pressure from others keep you from decisions that feel good and right to you. The people who love you will be supportive of you making the best decisions for your wellbeing. For me personally, this has looked like transitioning to a new career path, choosing different housing arrangements, and dedicating more time to hobbies that fill my emotional bucket.

Your feelings aren't tsunamis. 

I have often felt like there was something wrong with me because I was so sensitive. And I’ll be the first to admit that at times, emotions can be terrifying. They might feel like they'll wipe you out and keep you down, but they won't. Instead of ignoring an unpleasant emotion or pushing it down (because that’s just a surefire way to ensure the emotion will keep bouncing to the surface), I've learned that the best way through is to recognize and welcome those emotions the way you would a visitor. Often, intense emotions are indicators of areas in our life that require additional attention. 

However, if you’re feeling unlike yourself, talking to a doctor or a therapist is never a bad idea. There's no shame in caring for your brain the same way you would care for your body. Trust your gut. 

You will find your people, I promise. 

I remember so many variations of this worry - whether or not I would meet true friends I would walk through life with, whether or not I would find a loving partner, whether I would always feel that I cared more than others in relationships and friendships...etc. Eventually, I figured out that when I showed up from a place of authenticity and vulnerability, I felt good in my own skin, and it showed. The right people gravitated towards me, and I thank God for them every day for the way they show me that they appreciate and love me.

Nurturing your inner child can help you feel safer during moments of uncertainty or anxiety. 

It’s taken me a while to get comfortable with the idea of “downtime”, but over the years my narrative around self-care has radically changed. It is neither lazy nor unproductive; rather, it is essential to finding peace in our hectic world. I can always tell when I have been neglecting self-care because my anxiety always ramps up. Some ways that I nurture my inner child are by doing art (I’m particularly drawn to simple pen drawings right now), spending quality quiet time reading on the couch beside loved ones, writing with a candle nearby, and HUGS. 

For The Letter Project.

Kimberly Crickette

The Middle School Basketball Player Turned Cheerleader

Written By: Holly Enowski, The Letter Project Brand Curator

When posed this question, I immediately became uncomfortable. Younger me was not cute, nor did she have a clue what she was doing. In fact, 5th grade me was picked on because she was taller than all her classmates, was student body president, and had a chronic inability to brush her hair. The apex of beauty that I was had big black-framed rectangular glasses (before they were cool) and bright braces with color-coordinated bright rubber bands. I wore a sweater vest (a sweater! vest! - mom, how could you do this to me?) and a skirt for my school district-wide speech on Veteran’s Day that landed on the front page of the newspaper. All in all, not a cutie girl and that’s just the truth.

When I got into middle school, I remember being “not enough” for everyone in every social circle. A “friend” turned to me in the cafeteria one day and said “do you want to know the truth — you’re not even good at basketball and you only do cheerleading because you’re also bad at basketball” as she turned and said nothing else the rest of the lunch period. I was an oddball — I played basketball and was a cheerleader at the same time, which meant (a) a busy schedule and (b) lots of outfit changes on game night. I enjoyed it and it was a fun season in life, but her words stung and the weight of them carried well into high school when I ultimately dropped both activities.

In middle school, I wish I would’ve taken to heart the sentiment that you would be surprised at who is watching your journey and being inspired by it. The number of younger girls and older girls who sent me messages about how “cool” it was that I didn’t pick one sport over the other is in the dozens - but, I let one mean comment cloud any positive feedback I was receiving. The 5th grade me wore a sweater vest and skirt because (a) my mother made me or I didn’t know how to match clothes — both likely true, and (b), more importantly, I had bigger things to do than worry about my outfit for the day. Middle school Holly wanted to make a difference — whether that meant starting a clothing closet at school, working with friends to create a resource guide for incoming 7th graders, or inspiring one girl to try a sport she wasn’t good at — and that resounding theme was my foundation to stay true to me in times of defeat, competition, and mean girls.

There will always be people who don’t like you, but for some reason, it’s harder to navigate when it’s other girls. Now that I’m older, I see so much that our anger, hurt, and frustrations hurled at each other are projections of our own insecurities, unworked issues, and built-up emotions. I wish I would’ve known that it’s not you - and had the inner confidence to walk on. God calls us to love one another in kindness and forgiveness, not to hold grudges, to have ill-intentions, or to be mean in return. Middle school is KILLER for character development (say that again!) - trust me when I say you’re more than what people say about you, you’re more than your accomplishments, and the ways in which you handle yourself with kindness and grace are inspiring someone else to do the same.

Middle school is much different now than it was for me — even though it was only 5-6 years ago for me. With the popularity of social media, clothing trends, and other influences, I challenge middle school gals to remember their influence. Likes, views, trends, and the words of people will fade - but your influence will not. You're worthy of so much more than what others may say. You’ve got this!

For The Letter Project,

Holly Enowski