...a blond girl from a Wonderland.

So, okay. I've been nurturing this idea of writing a letter to you, my tiny self who still sees gran's garden as a giant wonder world, like for months. I truly liked the letter Victoria Beckham (fine, you still have no idea who she is, but one day she'll be on your list of the most inspiring and respect-deserving females) wrote to her younger self where she outlined some amazing points she now, after so many years, sees from other perspective. And, yes, it's still like mid-90's on your side there and you got no entire idea what Internet, blogs or social media are... but I believe that somewhere out there, in a parallel universe, this letter will reach you and you manage to master these points way before you turn 25. Look, you already mastered striking these casual-much poses!

...I see you are still blond. But you know, few years later Eastern excellence will take you over. Dark hair, dark eyes, Eastern-much appearance - it's you. And this is what you (and, well, your brother) gonna inherit from G. This is something that's going to remain with you when he walks away... forever. And, darling, don't even think of Westernizing your appearance simply because there will come a day when having those Eastern vibes - on the outside or inside - will seem scary AF. You will be facing your first decade on this Earth, when (western) media gonna promote 'pimped' blondes while picturing nearly all Eastern people as devils. This trend won't last forever. You can't let them scare the shit out of you.

...Speaking of G. It's pretty hard to talk through this point as turning 25 also marks 20 years from the moment he left. I know, you are way too young to face this real first, and big enough, loss. But this is something none of us can change. You just need to say that last 'goodbye' even though you have no idea what's going on around, because... because later on you'll regret not making that move. And again, G's mark will stay with you anyway. Just stick to it.

...Turning 25 marks one other major point of your life - 20 years with anxiety (disorder) and panic attacks. Right, you'll first spend some 20 years living with this before you even find it out. Every now and then you'll have this feeling something's wrong or that you are not really like other kids/teens/adults/people. I wish you could be able to discover this part of you, and me of course, earlier... much earlier. But I don't want you to see it as a curse or anything this way. Sure the first thing that's going to pop up in your mind is 'Why me? Why am I supposed to go through this? Or live with this?'. I don't have this answer, yet. But am now taking my anxiety as a lesson - about me, about you, about both of us and everything I kept burring deep inside. 

...I got these best words of support from Apro (oh you wait till you meet this Lebanese Armenian brother of yours) the night I textly-confessed him about my anxiety: 'In this world nobody is normal. Maybe you might have disorder but you're still normal'. And despite the fact confessing about your mental issues seem to be the scariest shit you've ever done, none of your people (I wouldn't label it 'friends' because these days it is a sort of fucked up concept, especially due to FB and other social media) will turn their backs upon you.

...Speaking of you and people (in general terms). I believe you are going to feel this difference of yours almost from day 1. And, yes, you will do your best to not let nearly anyone notice your anxiety thing. You will be protecting yourself from them, because you'll be afraid they label you as 'psycho' or something like that. People like labeling and stereotypes. And you will be protecting people from yourself. Because it's just feels right not to show the real you straightaway, but rather...

...See, you can't let others define who you are, what to feel and how to act simply because you are afraid of allowing them to see that anxious side of you. Moreover, you shouldn't be sorry for that... as well as your looks and inner vibes. This is what you are all about. I adore this phrase amazing Iman shared while interviewing beauty Halima Aden for CR Fashion Book this March - '...you know, I live my truth'. As simple as that. There will always be those who stick to discrimination and racism sort of stuff, you should just remember it's about their own issues. And, yeah, don't trust them when they say female can't be beautiful and smart at the same time. They just never thought of balancing it.

...Any other advice? Don't pluck your eyebrows to that scary thin level. Ever! Even if girls from class say you should. Stick to everything bodycon, sport-inspired and quite neutral-toned... or, actually, try different stuff out. Take a move at the age of 10 and go study Arabic, even though people won't understand this choice. Fuck up that transfer exam in math and tell your teacher you not a robot or god to specialize in everything. Don't take school, and teachers, too seriously. But go to London and suck up as much fashion knowledge as you can. Enjoy diversity and multiculturalism. Pack your stuff and come back to Riga. Always say 'hi' back to a stranger (okay, I still fail at this point), or at least try. Finally, share your anxiety story. You know it seem to be a super lonely battle unless you hear stories of real people going through this. Oh, and laugh as loud as you want to, even though school teachers say you crazy (you anyway are). It's way better than being apathetic.

Fine. Now this letter already turned to be a pretty long one. And you know I could easily go on outlining more and more points, but I wanted to speak to you about the ones from above. Looking back at this first 'quarter of a century' of mine (and like future 20 years of yours, even though you are probably still trying to cope with the fact these natural blond hair won't last forever) I felt like sending this message back to you. Shall I write one more letter to you in some 5 years? Or should I return with a big 'half of a century' one then? Bet by that time my hair might be grey AF.     



Image Courtesy: Archives