5 Things I Need to Relearn from my 4-Year-Old Self

It has come to my attention recently that kids are the smartest people on earth. They see the world with stark clarity that isn’t bogged down by bias or experience. What comes out of their mouths is pure hilarity, honesty, and at times, downright inappropriate. Children are the lights in this dark, dark world—lights that give us hope and beautiful simplicity. Being a “grown up” now myself (whatever that word means, I’m still unsure), I’m finding that the things I once knew when I was young are now slipping away, and I don’t like it. Reflecting on this thought, I’ve found five things that I need to relearn from my four-year-old self.

1. Being Single is Okay.

Ladies, we can all relate to this one. Remember when this changed? When being single suddenly wasn’t okay? I believe it started in middle school that ones self worth was determined by if they had a date to the dance or a boy to PDA at the end of the school day. No boy, no worth—or it least that’s how it seemed to me. Therefore, my school years were spent feeling slightly worthless and thrown away. Truth? No. My honest feelings at the time? Yes.

Today, there has been major growth and improvement in that area that I won’t go into in this post, but let’s just say that I’ve realized that my affirmation will never come from a man or any other human being at that. That being said, I’m still struggling with this whole “single” thing. How does one not flounder in single-dom? How can I use my single years for good instead of just wasting them away ‘waiting for a man’? What does it even mean to be single?

Teach me, four-year-old Amber! At four years old, everyone was single. The adults, no, but the kids, yes. And did we think we were worthless? No. We celebrated each other’s strengths—“Look! Joe can cross the monkey bars by himself!”—and knew that there were great things ahead of us—“Someday I’m going to be a teacher!” We knew that we were worth love and pursuit and that we had something to offer the world, just as our little four-year-old selves.

2. The World is my Playground.

“I can’t sit in that mud, that’s something kids would do,” I think to myself, prudishly. After all, I was having so much more fun sitting upright in my chair with my legs crossed, sipping coffee. I watch as children climb trees, explore fences by running their fingers over them, doing cartwheels in the grass. When did I forget the joy of this world?

Yesterday, I wanted to run barefoot. I wanted to feel the grass scratch the bottom of my feet as I pounded the foliage. I wanted to explore a forest and be a princess, touching EVERY SINGLE TREE. But I didn’t. I resisted the urge because it was “childish.”

What fun is life if one can’t be childish? What fun is it if we can’t roll down a hill or scream at the top of our lungs? When did I become so reserved, so…”adult?” The word leaves a sour taste in my mouth. At four I knew that the world was my playground. If I wanted to explore a yard or scenery or toy, I did (with parental permission of course). Playing in the dirt, wiping snot on my clothes—I did it all. And I didn’t care that I was being “childish.”

3. People are my Playmates.

I’m not sure when this one changed either. Somewhere along the way, maybe puberty (what a terrible time), cliques started. Friend groups formed, and once you were friends with a certain group, it was highly unlikely that you would be friends with another group. Your best friend was your best friend, and that never changed (and I’m not saying it should now).  Not only was highly segregated during the teen years by not wanting to be friends with many people, but there were also severe trust issues as I realized that people could be mean. Really mean. That realization hurts, and therefore I became closed off and unwilling to share my experiences with many people.

But…we are going through this thing called life together. The people in our lives are our playmates, and it is okay to share things with them, just as when I was four it was okay to play Barbies with who ever was in my house. It didn’t matter, I shared that important event with them. Is it possible that this can translate into adulthood?

4. Everything is Exciting.

I remember being young and getting four quarters from the tooth fairy. SO EXCITING. A dollar was a fortune to my young self, but now it barely thrills me as it once did. I’ve lost the wonder of life—that beautiful newness that one experiences when a child, where you are excited that you get to eat off the big kid’s menu, where you cry after getting a stuffed animal.

I was watching a home movie of our families, and there I was, one-year-old and watching one of those toys that flips after a certain amount of time. Every time it flipped, I FREAKED OUT. I screamed and stared at it, and then at my dad, as if to say, “DID YOU JUST SEE THAT, DAD?! THAT TOY JUST FLIPPED!” Every time it was new and just as exciting, no matter how many times that toy flipped.

What if I could bring that sort of joy back into every aspect of my life? What if I could fully appreciate every moment for what it is—a gift that I want to share with those around me. “Look, Dad!”

5. Everyone is Equal.

This is the lesson that I’ve lost that fills me with the most sorrow. When I was four, and even younger, I didn’t care who was around me. If you could talk to me and say my name, I would play with you, and I would love you. I would show you the blackberries in the side of the yard, and take your hand and give you a hug.

I didn’t care if you were white, or black, or gay, or lesbian, or atheist, or Jewish, or Christian, or man, or woman, or African, or poor, or mentally ill, or criminal, or a prostitute, or label label label.

You were HUMAN in my four-year-old eyes, and that’s all that mattered. And because you were human, I wanted to love you.

My theory on this? If hatred and bigotry can be learned, they certainly can be unlearned.

I’m on a quest for childish lessons that contain the greatest truths, and it is EXHILERATING. Care to join me?

What do you wish that your younger self would teach you?