Hello friends,
I've finally gotten around to watching the new Stranger Things (although I've been listening to Kate Bush since it was released). Don't worry; this letter doesn't contain spoilers. I still have to watch the final episode. I'm writing about it this week because of the kids.
When I started this season, I "awwwed" at how adorable and grownup the cast looked. For six years, I've watched them go from cute little children to budding adults. The flashback scenes with Eleven, in particular, drove this point home. I felt like I was watching my little nieces and nephews become real live people.
Will had me feeling particularly nostalgic this season. He reminds me so much of myself at that age. I felt different and alone, even among my friends. I hung out with the other nerds and outcasts, but even there, I never truly felt at home. Do you guys remember MySpace Top 8? I was always last in my friends' Top 8s—if they included me at all. It was a constant reminder that I was no one's person. I imagined killing myself all the time as a teenager. I didn't want to die, exactly. I just wanted people to notice me. I wanted to matter to someone, to anyone.
I don't know if the show addresses why Will feels so different in the finale, but I hope they don't. I can't point to any one thing that made me Other; I just was. I didn't feel as pretty or smart or exciting as my friends. I always tried to change to be more likable, but of course, that didn't work. What I needed was time.
One of the most infuriating things to hear as a kid is, "You'll understand when you're older." It always sounded so patronizing. Didn't the adults realize that I was an old soul? Couldn't they see I would understand if they only gave me the answers? Now, though, at thirty, I know the only answer is experience. No one can tell you how to love yourself. No shortcut exists to becoming comfortable in your own skin.
I still feel lonely sometimes. No relationship. No job. Just a brain-eating disease chipping away at my finally fully-formed mind. But I also feel settled in a way I never did when I was younger. I deleted my Facebook and Instagram. Twitter still has a hold on me, but more for sports news than anything else. I've cast off the shame and sadness of my Top 8 exclusion. I've stopped living for the Internet. Instead, I'm buying new furniture and quality pots and pans. I'm narrowing down colors to paint my room. I'm doing the classic "adult" things that seemed so far away years ago. Now that I'm older, I understand. There is no definitive way to be. We all have to find our own path.
I'll leave you with one of my favorite poems. It's the famous "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost. Whenever I feel lost or lonely, I think of this poem. The final stanza, in particular, keeps me grounded. It fortifies me when I find myself entranced by the woods.
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
See you next time,
Yardena
Weekend Potpourri
Here’s Running Up That Hill, for anyone living under a rock
Also in music, Yo-Yo Ma performs a work for cello in the woods, accompanied by a birdsong chorus
Haley Nahman tackles our fear of forgetting in this week’s Maybe Baby
I loved Beatrix Potter as a kid. My grandmother gave me that love through stories and figurines that I still cherish. Here’s more about her little-known scientific studies and illustrations of mushrooms.