When I turned 13, the year I figured I’d finally rule my junior high school (i.e., not be totally unpopular), my parents decided to move to Florida.

Part of me was devastated. I was leaving my close family, my amazing friends (who I’m still close with!) and the opportunity to finally be a senior.

But the other part was ecstatic. I dreamed about the magic of starting fresh.

I’d be beautiful, popular, confident. I could be anyone I wanted to be.

Not surprisingly, the reality was sobering.

Instead, I gained weight (puberty will do that to you, which is totally normal and healthy!).

I felt tremendously uncomfortable in my skin (another gift of puberty). I wished I could just take it off.

I was confronted with a much different culture of students (I went from living in NYC to a super small town of 20,000) and wasn’t even able to take the honors classes I had taken since fifth grade.

Everyone, it had seemed, grew up together.

I felt achingly alone.

And all my initial dreams of school stardom remained figments of my very active imagination.

I’d already lived 13 years of my life being incredibly insecure. And this deep self-doubt continued into my teen years.

I started focusing even more on what I lacked.

In NYC I also felt awkward and inadequate. But I still looked like a lot of my friends and students in the school.

Here, it felt like everyone was blond, tan, thin and totally different from me.

They were into different music, different styles of clothing, different everything.

I was the sore thumb.

If I had to find a theme to encapsulate my teen years, it would be “the outside.”

My attention turned to everything outside of myself.

I fixated on my appearance. I wanted to be thinner, prettier, sexier. I wanted to have thicker hair. I wanted to be naturally tan.

Basically, I wanted to look like everything I wasn’t.

I started focusing on calories, fat and carbs (a fixation that would take me well into my college years).

I also didn’t listen to myself. I listened to others.

I sought validation outside of myself.

I wanted to know what others’ opinions were before I made mine.

I wanted to know what others liked before I figured out what I liked.

And that began a long and painful road where everyone else was right, and I was small and insignificant.

I allowed myself to get stepped on – a lot.

It took me years to get to this place of comfort in my own skin. To this place of trusting my body, my instincts and myself.

The teen years are rough for everyone in different ways.

It’s when knowing what kind of music we like to listen to can be  a tough decision. It’s when we’re starting to form our true identities.

And so many things – and insincere people – pull for our attention.

But the key is to look inside. Look inside into your heart, your soul.

Think about what makes you feel comfortable. What makes you happy. What makes you feel fulfilled.

The outside – the outside validation, the popularity, your physicality – is fleeting.

Think about being kinder to yourself. Think about being with people who genuinely respect you.

Think about taking the time to explore who you are. To listen and trust your brain and body.

Think about how beautiful and unique you are. And nurture that uniqueness.

Dig deep and look inside. That’s where you’ll find everything you need.

* This is my response to Teen Week, kick-started by the amazing Mara at Medicinal Marzipan. Mara, thank you so much for always being so honest, positive and just all-around awesome! I appreciate the opportunity to reflect on the years past.

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    Last reviewed: 11 Feb 2011