To the Little Crazy Freak in Me… and You.
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I’m in my twenties now, and as I sit in front of my old black laptop on a wooden desk in my parents’ house, I reflect on how I’ve accumulated many useful skills over these years of my still-young life: I can now sit up to eight hours and more in front of a glowing white screen, I know how to get stuff done and be on time, how to clean a household, and I know how to behave in this world.
Looking back at old pictures, like the one below, I can sense how much of a silly girl I used to be. In my world, there were no rules. Whenever a teacher, or my mum, tried to make me do my homework, I’d simply say No. I wanted to be outside, smell flowers, communicate with trees and invisible friends, look at the shapes of clouds, or jump on a trampoline for hours.
{Photo credit: Svenja Dietz}
The epitome of mindfulness was to be found in my early childhood years, when my whole world only turned around the race of the raindrops on a window and which one was going to make it all the way down first.
Getting this little crazy freak to sit down at a table, open the books and do the (boring) math homework was a task too difficult for all the adults combined. While most other kids were excited to start school, I was half-excited (when we did field trips, or debates, or learned about nature!) and half-bored (what do I need math for? Or homework?).
These days, I find myself to be stiff, overly polite, and very disconnected from myself and the people in this world. I carry heavy rocks of expectation on my shoulders. There are certain images I need to portray, certain stages in life I need to reach, and many, many rules for how to behave.
I currently do not have a well-paying job, a nice flat, or a family of my own. I don’t even really know what I’m passionate about, which is something that my resume shows perfectly — bouncing between different professions, never settling for something, never not bored. I’ve missed many goals society wanted me to make by the end of my twenties.
The little freak in me seems to be almost gone. She is hiding from all the seriousness of life, from scars too deep to fully heal, from a society that defines success in a way she never would. She is sensitive and awkward, sometimes cocky and always sassy. Silently, she is crying for the forests we are destroying, for all the greed and the fences in our physical world and in our minds.
Sometimes she shines through, this little gap-toothed girl, in the form of sassy jokes or not-so-girl-like behavior. But most of the time, she is silenced by me — the adult, the grown woman; continuously adapting to the rules of a society whose values I don’t always share.
Whenever I look at her, I’d like to invite her back into my life — despite all the struggle of making enough money, the sharp perfectionism, and the busyness of a so-called modern society. I’d like for her to be with me more, to accompany me with her invisible wings, to share her inadequate yet authentic self with the world.
On days like today, I try to remember that I don’t have to invite her back into my life, because she’s always there. Every step along the way, every moment of unwavering hurt, every new experience, she’s been with me. She lives inside of me. All I have to do is to sit in silence, to hear her little voice whisper unconventional wisdom into my heart.
Let her have space, this crazy little freak, let her light and her awkwardness get to the surface of your being, by letting go of what you’ve learnt. By stripping down and accepting that maybe you know nothing and she knows everything.
This way, you don’t need to go further, to become more or better, but you simply go back to the wisdom of where you came from: an unapologetic, radiant smile. A whole universe filled with hope. Deeply awkward imperfections, tons of them, but still joy and belonging, because you can feel she is you, and you are her.
She’s the most vulnerable yet strongest part of you.
She’ll never leave you, so you’ll never ever be alone. As long as you become quiet to hear what she has to offer, you’ll find her sensitive voice reaching out for your anxious heart — stronger than ever before. This is the time to reconnect, to break free from what you thought you need to be — even to fail at a conventional approach to life.
If she shines through more and more, you may be quirky, a little odd at times, but also happily connected to the space she offers: the space of being yourself.
If you let her, she’ll enchant your life.
She doesn’t ever care what other people think of you.
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Svenja Dietz is a sensitive soul from Germany. On her journey through this messy-lovely-difficult-intense life, she tries to ground herself through meditation and Yoga. Communication is her passion, nature her inspiration. You could connect with her via Instagram or Facebook.
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