To the 13 year old me

You hated your braces.

You tried to hide them any way you could—long pants, long skirts, anything that would make people look away.

You didn’t want to be seen.

Not like that.

You walked into rooms already feeling different.

Already feeling behind.

Already wondering why everyone else seemed to move through life so easily… and you didn’t.

You watched your friends.

The way they laughed.

The way they dated.

The way life just seemed to happen for them.

And you stood there in awe…

But never quite in it.

You were always “the friend.”

Never the girl someone chose.

Never the girl who felt confident walking into a room.

Never the girl who believed she was enough exactly as she was.

And I know this part matters—

You didn’t just feel different.

You felt like you had to hide who you were to be accepted.

I wish I could sit next to you for just five minutes.

Because I’d tell you something you won’t believe yet:

You don’t stay there.

Not even close.

At 53, I wear the braces you tried so hard to hide—

With shorts.

With dresses.

With confidence you couldn’t even imagine back then.

I don’t walk like everyone else.

And I don’t try to anymore.

When people stare now…

It still stings sometimes—I won’t lie to you.

But it doesn’t break me.

Because now?

It feels like a badge of honor.

You spent so many years thinking your disability made you less.

It didn’t.

It made you.

It made you strong.

It made you resilient.

It made you someone who knows how to fight through things most people never have to face.

And because of that…

You built a life.

A beautiful one.

With a husband who loves you in a way most people only hope for.

A life filled with meaning, growth, and a kind of strength you earned the hard way.

There were obstacles.

A lot of them.

And yes—there will still be more.

But here’s what you don’t see yet:

You overcome every single one.

Not perfectly.

Not easily.

But you do.

So let me tell you what you needed to hear back then:

Stop hiding.

Stop shrinking.

Stop believing you were meant to blend in when you were built to stand out.

You should be proud.

Of everything you’ve survived.

Of everything you’ve become.

Of everything you’re still going to do.

And one day…

You won’t just accept who you are.

You’ll finally be her.