Dear Teenage Girls,
I want to take a moment to address you—no, this isn’t a typical letter from an adult trying to impart wisdom about your choices, appearance, or habits. You’re probably accustomed to those types of notes, filled with unsolicited advice about how to dress, engage in social media, or navigate relationships. Trust me, I’ve heard enough of those myself.
You may not recall our brief encounter last week at the local swimming pool. It was more of a moment than a meeting; I never caught your names, nor you mine. I found myself on the high dive after negotiating with my son, Ethan. “If you dive, Mom, I’ll do my perfect cannonball,” he said. I figured, how hard could it be?
But standing at the edge of the diving board, looking down at the pool below, I suddenly understood the apprehension. That board felt much higher than I remembered, and the stakes seemed greater: fears of embarrassing belly flops, potential wardrobe malfunctions, and water up my nose loomed large in my mind.
“I usually need a few tries before I can jump,” one of you mentioned, as you paced the board, walking to the edge only to retreat repeatedly. Eventually, after several attempts, you took the leap and rejoined your friend.
I watched as younger kids scrambled up to take their turns, buoyed by your encouragement. You cheered each other on, exuding a camaraderie that was infectious. As I stood there, I could feel my own courage waning, even as I tried to convince myself I could do it. I recalled the lessons I impart to my children about facing fears and embracing challenges.
For twenty minutes, I remained on the sidelines, watching you and the others jump, trying to muster the bravery to take the plunge myself. I kept reminding myself that I could conquer my fears, that I had indeed faced much harder challenges in life. Yet, when it came time to jump, I found myself hesitating—five times, to be exact. Each time, you offered kind words and gentle encouragement, reminding me that it’s okay to be scared.
“It’s alright to feel nervous,” one of you said. “It’s fun once you jump.” Another suggested, “Just focus on the trees instead of looking down.” You even joked that jumping felt like flying. I chuckled at the song playing overhead, “Free Fallin’,” which seemed fitting for the moment.
After a few more attempts, I finally took your advice. I walked to the end of the board, focused on the trees, and leaped into the air. I heard your cheers even before I hit the water. “Good job!” you called out, and I felt a surge of gratitude.
A few moments later, as you passed by, I shouted my thanks, but you were lost in laughter, oblivious to my appreciation. I tried to follow you with my eyes, but you seemed to be enjoying your independence from parental oversight. Before I knew it, my younger son requested a snack, and my day at the pool was over.
As I reflected on the day, my friend teased me, “You should write about jumping off the high dive.” I laughed, but I knew what I wanted to express: the impact the two of you had on my experience.
There’s a lot of discussion about teenage girls today, often centered on negative stereotypes regarding their behavior and choices. Society tends to criticize young women for their clothing, social media habits, and even harmless flirting. Parents strive to instill strength and confidence in you, emphasizing the importance of self-love and mutual respect.
But in this journey, what often goes unnoticed is the profound lessons you impart to us. You exemplify bravery and resilience, reminding us that taking risks can lead to rewarding experiences. Your ability to embrace vulnerability encourages us to reflect on our own growing pains. You teach us the value of patience, kindness, and the importance of taking leaps of faith.
So, I urge you to keep leaping into the unknown, to continue evolving and discovering yourselves. Remember, we are learning right alongside you.
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In summary, your presence at the pool not only inspired me to confront my fears but also reminded me of the invaluable lessons we learn from one another, regardless of age. Keep jumping and thriving!