CHAPTER ONE: Dear Me at Seven; Your Loud Laugh Isn’t Too Much

Dear me,

I remember you so clearly, sitting at the edge of the classroom mat, legs swinging, unsure whether to speak or stay quiet. You were always somewhere in between – wanting to be noticed, but also afraid to be too noticed.

You laughed loudly again today, didn’t you?

It slipped out before you could stop it. That belly-deep, bubbling-over kind of laugh that always comes when something tickles your spirit in the right way. And just like that, eyes turned. A few kids stared. A teacher paused. Someone snickered. One of them said, “Why do you always laugh so loud?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just smiled nervously, like you’d done something wrong.

I remember the way you started watching yourself after that – measuring your voice, muting your excitement, trying to figure out how to be less… much. You started asking yourself quiet questions in your head:

“Do I take up too much space?”

“Why don’t they like me when I’m happy?”

“Maybe I should just blend in.”

You began shrinking in the smallest ways: biting your lip when you wanted to laugh, pretending not to care when your drawings were overlooked, holding your hands still when they wanted to dance during story time. You started rehearsing your silence like it was safety.

And oh, I wish I could sit beside you on that classroom floor right now and say:

You are not too much. You are not the problem. Your joy is not a mistake.

You were never meant to be small. The world around you just didn’t know how to hold something so bright, sensitive, and full of spirit. But that doesn’t mean you should dim. That doesn’t mean you should hide. That doesn’t mean your laugh should live only in your chest.

One day, people will look for that laugh. They’ll lean in when you speak. They’ll love that you find joy in little things. They’ll admire your energy, your voice, your fire. But more importantly: you’ll love it too. You’ll stop apologizing for how wide your smile is or how deeply you feel. You’ll realize that your emotions were never a burden – they were your brilliance.

So, here’s what I want you to remember, little one:

Keep laughing loudly. Keep feeling deeply. Keep showing up fully.

Because the world doesn’t need a quieter version of you. It needs the real you. Even now. Even then.

With all my love,

You, grown but still learning to laugh out loud again.