A Letter to My Best Friend

I’ve had two best friends in my life other than my sister: one in Kindergarten who unfortunately moved away in March of that year (Carter, if you’re reading this, I hope life is nothing but sunshine and rainbows), and one in middle school in which we gradually went our separate ways (I’ve totally moved on, really, it’s why therapy is a thing). Other than that, I haven’t had a really close friend prior to college. But now I am in college where I have a couple of friends whom I’ve grown extremely close with. In writing this letter, I thought it would be a good way to express myself to not only my close friends now but to all of my friends, my past friends, and my future friends. 

 

Dear Friend, 

Sometimes, when I’m really down in the dumps I become Katniss Everdeen from Mockingjay and remind myself some basic things about myself: My name is Natalia Iding, I am 19, I am from Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, and my spirit animal is a wolf according to Buzzfeed. It’s these basic things that help me remind myself that I’m a living being who can eat, breathe and dance to Mamma Mia. When I’m on a high, I blast country music and pretend that I’m a country girl from the south (I’m not) and go one a meme-sending spree, hoping that whoever receives my memes will laugh as hard as I do. I’m known for my love of chocolate (and also ketchup), obsession over sports and my countless mentions of how HOT my husband Justin Timberlake is. These easy-to-know facts are my tier one layer of me. It’s something, Friend, that you can find out by looking at my Twitter. But I am more than my Justin Timberlake tweets and screaming at Aaron Rodgers because he only threw the ball for five yards instead of fifteen. I am a little more complex than you think. I mean we are all complex— it’s a reason why therapists exist. Friend, I’m using this form of expression on HerCampus so a) you read more HerCampus articles and b) so you can learn about more than just what I say on a daily basis. 

 

I don’t talk about my childhood, but I suppose that will be interesting to discuss. First and foremost, as a friend, you should know that the Lion King is my favorite childhood movie. That sounds like some tier-one level BS, but it’s a little deeper than that. When I watched the Lion King as a kid, I was always with my babysitter, Molly. My days with Molly isn’t something that I talk about a lot because I think as I’ve grown older, I’ve been attempting to block out my childhood, and only remember really BIG things. Why? Because a lot of bad things happened, specifically at school. But with Molly, not many bad things happened with her. It was a time where I could watch the Lion King over and over and over again and feel the same emotions as if I’d never seen the movie. It was a time where I took a plain sheet of paper and used up all of the ink-marker, resulting in the paper being a beautiful color-mess. It was the time when her nephew J.T. and I would spend hours on end playing legos, or my cousin Sam and I played with Molly’s batman cave set. It was the time, where literally, all I could think about was Simba and his fate. That is why the Lion King is my favorite childhood movie. 

When it comes to present-day, something that you may not know about me is that I’ve spent hours attempting to look for my birth-mother online. “Birth-mother?” you ask. I’m adopted from Russia, you know that. “Yes, but I thought you didn’t want anything to do with Russia?” Correct. “So why are you looking up your birth-mother? And you do realize that doing a google search isn’t going to yield any results?” Right, I know about google. And I’m looking up my birth-mother so that I can know the exact time that I was born to the minute and why she left me in the hospital (I’m not mad, I’m just curious). “But you’re happy here,” you continue. I am happy here, however, I’m also beginning to be intrigued about my past (my therapist would be so damn proud). I spent 14 years after my adoption, pretending that I was born an Iding and Babler woman. It was actually quite easy to do for the most part because I look just like my father, my mother and I quarrel lovingly, and I do a great job being a little sister. It’s the question “what do you remember about Russia?” that gets me. Ok Friend, you’ve already asked me that question and I’ve already answered it. “You said that you didn’t remember much, just that the food was bad and you watched a lot of Teletubbies.” Yep, that’s my typical answer…yet my answer is wrong though. “Wrong?” Yes, I didn’t tell the whole truth. “Why didn’t you tell the whole truth?” So that I could protect myself from feeling scared, hopeless and harmed that I felt when I was in Russia. But now, I am able to tell you about Russia now, so much so that I’m thinking about it more, and not freaking out. “Well tell me more now!” I will when I see you again. Just know, that I’m curious about my birth-mother. 

 

Alright, I told you about my childhood and I acknowledged that I’m more accepting of my time in Russia; I need one last thing about me before I wrap this letter up. Ah yes. Dogs. I love dogs. Dogs are good, dogs are fun, dogs make my heart melt in a puddle of warmth. I love dogs so much, because, for some time, I don’t worry about my anxieties and sadness. For instance, one time, I was talking to my dog Stella about what I would say to Taylor Swift if I met her (I would tell Taylor that she has helped me with so many real and imaginary break-ups and that love is real because of her) when suddenly, Stella started barking. I told her to calm down, and that she’s being too loud, but she continued barking. After a minute she stopped and I forgot what I was telling her. Suddenly, a rise of anxiety shot up inside of me. I had to do a math quiz online and I had no idea how to do any of it. An hour later, I’m thinking about how much of a failure I am. I’ve used Stella (and Sasha my other dog) as a way to not worry or be sad. But when they’re not around, I don’t have that means of distraction. I get in my head. I start to think that I’m not good enough (false) and that no one loves (false) and that I should just disappear from the earth (false). My thoughts can be my worst enemy. NF, a rapper, rapped it best, “Mental health, where’s my mental health? Diagnosed with OCD, what does that mean? Well, gather ’round; that means I obsessively obsess on things I think about; that means I might take a normal thought and think it’s so profound.” Note: I do not have OCD, but the thought process that NF described basically is what goes on in my mind. So that’s why I love dogs. Dogs distract from dark demons. Dogs make me forget about my crazy head. Dogs make me happy, and I think that is an important thing that you should know. 

That might just be the most random letter you’ve read, Friend. I am a poet and writer. And I’m just going to say outright as a poet and writer that the randomness of this letter is not random at all. It’s all the complexities of myself morphed into one. I’m talking about what I would say to Taylor Swift in one line, then mental health in another. It’s confusing. Are you confused? Good. Because with that, you are having a look inside my head. The confusion isn’t a bad thing, Friend. It’s what makes me me. It’s what connected me to you, and you to me. This letter is not just me telling you what I like, but it’s knowing all the levels of me. As a friend, I think you should know the very best of me, and I should know the very best of you. 

 

Your friend, 

 

Natalia Iding

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