Years ago, a lot of random people started saying “Thank you, Sheldon” to me. I didn’t think much about it.  I figured it was a new slang word, and I always have to look those up. When my daughter said it to me, I asked her.  

Apparently, I reminded people of Dr. Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory. 

When I started watching the show, I was a little bit offended. 

My friends still insist that I’m “just like him.”

I recently started watching Young Sheldon. I didn’t like the previews, and had no interest in seeing the series. I was wrong about it. 

The kid that plays the lead is so cute, and it touches on a lot of triggers for me (in a good way). 

If my friends see adult Sheldon in me, I see young Sheldon in myself. Not his intelligence, although I now believe that I am and was smart. 

My brother told me it wasn’t that I was stupid, it was that my small minded school couldn’t force me to assimilate. I like that. 

Sometimes people say “My five year old could do that!” like it’s a put down. I welcome it, and take it as a huge compliment. If that’s your idea of a criticism, my advice is to go home and hug your five year old. Tell them how special they are. Do you think you’ve evolved beyond them?  They have a lot to teach you. What I wish for you and for myself, is that we’re not too arrogant to receive it. 

My daily routine of creating quick abstract paintings has taken on new meaning for me lately.   I remember coloring with crayons in the basement in Ferndale, even before I started kindergarten.  My current practice feels kind of like that. 

I try not to think about composition. Even if I unintentionally create with composition in mind, I’m going to dissect the piece eventually anyway. It frees me from taking the process too seriously, and it leaves me with surprises at the end. The process is not precious, but sometimes the result is. 

The unbridled approach honors the young version of me, and reminds me that he’s still here. An adult approves of him 100%, and loves him exactly as he is. While I treasure him, he enriches me.

I’ve said that this “automatic painting” style results in something that feels like it was painted by someone else. I can look at it later as an onlooker. Now I know who the someone else is.

Here’s a song for my inner child.

LOKAKUU PROJEKTI: JOS VOISIN:

If I could, I would always tell the truth
I would always love you from the heart
If I could, I would take you in my arms
Take you inside, into my heart

If I could, I would be the place you turn
When you’re feeling lonely or afraid
I would shine like a lantern in the dark
Take you inside, into my heart

When you feel as if you don’t know who you are
I’ll remind you with my love

If I could, I would always keep you safe
Take you inside, into my heart

When you feel as if you simply can’t go on
I’ll remind you that you’re strong

If I could, I would love you as you are
Take you inside, into my heart
Into my arms, into my life

It’s not too late to nurture the little boy I was.  He’s still inside me.  He’s still me.  I don’t need to grieve for him.  I’ve talked to my cousin and to my brother about wanting to go back and take care of him.  I can’t go back, and I don’t need to.  Actually, I took my son back to the house on West Drayton Ave. in Ferndale.  We looked at the house.  We walked around the block.  We saw children playing on the playground at my old school.  I told Raymond “that was me.  I was one of those kids.”  I didn’t realize that Timmy was there that day.  He was walking around the block, showing Raymond where he had been.  It was in that school that Ms. Feldsenfeld told my mother “Mrs. Young, I don’t believe Timmy has the ability to learn.”  Now, I have messages for the wounded child inside me.  In fact, all of the things I have written to encourage others… all the time I have spent mentoring young people… all that I have achieved in my life has been for him.  I dug through a big box of photographs and pulled out several pictures of myself as a child.  I didn’t see a problem child.  I saw a beautiful child.  I saw a creative child.  I saw a child who wanted to be loved, and to love.  I saw a child that I would be lucky to meet today.  My grandson reminds me of him.

The child inside me didn’t feel special.  No one told him how wonderful he was.  He believed he was stupid.

For my whole life, I thought I was a bad student.  I thought I got bad grades.  I thought I was a behavior problem at school and at home.  I’ve often told friends “if anyone was getting into trouble at our house, it was me.”  I thought my brothers were perfect.  They ate their vegetables and did their homework.  They practiced their instruments.

After my mother died, I got all of my report cards back.  I read them all.  I didn’t see bad grades.  I saw wonderful comments about my art, my socialization, my progress.  I didn’t see a perfect child, but I didn’t see a stupid child or a problem child.  

It is time for me to unlearn all of the misconceptions I had about myself.  It is time for me to celebrate Timmy.  To honor him.

Last night, I climbed into bed, and I felt just like my child… the child that I was, and still am.

Someone reprimanded me and said I was creating my own problems by talking about them.  He is a Christian who believes in the Law of Attraction.  I do believe that we can, within reason, draw certain outcomes into our lives.  I think that what we dwell on can lead us to action, even in subtle or unconscious ways, that will affect our course in life.  On the other hand, we all carry trauma and dysfunction with us, and these must be unpacked if we want to make positive changes for our future, and the future of our children.  Magical thinking doesn’t work.  Dogma is not kind.  Religion was made up by people to control other people.  Burying your head in the sand will not help you.  You have to feel it in order to heal it.  It’s not too late, as I once believed, to repair things from our past.  We can heal.  We can’t change the events, but we can choose not to accept it anymore.  We can give ourselves permission to set boundaries, and to give ourselves positive affirmations that we may not have received when we first needed them.  We can be kind to ourselves, and to the child within us that needed something different than what we got.  We need awareness in order to start.  Our parents and other caregivers didn’t have the answers. They had unfulfilled needs and traumas of their own.  Look deep inside.  Don’t be afraid of what you might find.  You’ve already been through it.  Anyone who knows me, knows my soapbox.  There is nothing wrong with you.  You are incredibly special.  You can say what you need.  What you want.  And you can have it.  You can say NO!  You don’t have to follow the suggestions of others if you don’t want to.  You can cut people out of your life without hatred. You can take care of yourself however you see fit.  THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU.