Dear Becky,

You’re loud now.

That seems ludicrous from your position. Right now you’re small and shy and you listen to your teachers. You don’t talk back; you don’t try to think outside of your bubble. From where I’m sitting I know it’s because you’re afraid of failure, of shame in the face of our father’s angry disappointment. You’ll get over that.

But you’re loud now. You have opinions and you share them. You laugh at stupid things. Honestly sometimes it’s concerning what gets you giggly, but you’re not worried about looking foolish in public anymore. You jam out at your work desk to silly songs and rock ballads and musical numbers, and you don’t care who spots your horrible dance moves as they walk past. You dance in grocery aisles, in full view of other patrons! You laugh at yourself and don’t mind when others laugh when it’s all in good fun. You’ve embraced being silly and dorky without any concern of your pride or ego being bruised. You dress in bright colors, in clothes that make you feel good; gone is the all-black wardrobe. It’s not nearly as flattering a color as people would lead you to believe.

You’re loud now, and you’re better for it. We spent too long hiding in corners and behind our insecurities. That’s not to say some of them aren’t still hanging around and probably always will. But you’re louder than them now, you drown them out with your smile and your laugh and a confidence that, at one point, seemed truly unattainable.

Your anger is louder too, but that’s a good thing, I promise! Because it’s not just your anger that’s louder. Your happiness is too. Your joy, your curiosity, your empathy, the whole spectrum of emotions breathes deep in you now. You feel things. You let yourself feel things, even when they’re hard. It’s not perfect – nothing is – but it’s further than you thought you’d get.

It’s kind of funny when I tell people what we used to be like. “I didn’t talk,” is usually how I start my explanation, trying to paint a picture of this shy bookworm who strove for perfect grades and wouldn’t dare talk back for anything. You’ll get there, I promise, to that point where mingling with strangers doesn’t make your skin tight and your stomach clench anymore. Where you know that your voice not only can be heard but should be heard. To where standing up to even the most intimidating of authority figures is a challenge but not an outright impossibility.

You’re loud now. You take up space in people’s hearts and minds, in the world around you. It’s chaotic and frustrating and frightening, but you’re not hiding from it anymore. You’re not going back. You’re loud now and you’re going to keep the volume up.

Love,

You, Cranked Up To 11