I often find myself thinking back to my past. I wonder, what I would say if I could write a letter to younger versions of myself. Knowing what I know now, of course. What WOULDN’T I say? What would the letters to “past me” say, when “present me” feels so unclear on how “future me”, is going to get by? Ya know, with the whole genetic disease canon, ready to shoot tumors out at any moment, and all.
What would I say to 5-year-old me? Just barely made a dent in the world. Would I tell her to spend more time enjoying life? To play with her siblings more. To not worry about getting messy – it’ll wash off. To paint the world with the colors in her heart. To never dull her sparkle, but maybe not wear that Bride of Dracula Halloween costume for picture day in second grade. Would I tell 5-year-old me that school can be fun contrary to what her brother keeps telling her? To keep reading and learning. Also, that her mom really LOVES when she calls her at 9 pm to pick her up from sleepovers.
How about a letter to 10-year-old me? What would that letter entail? Would I write to her about the boys she’ll meet? I bet I would tell her about her first period – and how she gets ice cream after so it’s ok. Would I tell her she meets her dad? But not to worry, because he’s a good guy. I would have to tell her that she’s about to meet one of her best friends and not to be deterred by the animal print. The two of you will go through everything together. Don’t worry, she’ll stick around forever. I would tell 10-year-old me not to take the next few years so seriously, and that a few great friends are better than a bunch of untrustworthy ones.
15-year-old me would be the hardest to write a letter to. Would I tell myself about my first heart break? How it’s going to suck for a long time, but it DOES get better. Would I warn her that the next couple of years are going to be tough but that she is tougher? Would I tell 15-year-old me to enjoy the little things? To relax while she can. To love her friends. I would tell her not to settle. To believe in herself. Make sure she spends as much time with her grandma as she can. The last thing I would tell myself is she’s going to meet someone who will make one of the biggest impacts on her life near the end of this chapter. It will be rocky at times, but you need her more than you know.
20-25 are big years. Some of the biggest for me. Some would say comparable to Mt. Everest… Okay, I’m “some”. So, what would I want 20-year-old me to know before climbing Mt. Everest? Probably that she’s stronger than she thinks she is. That she is going to lose A LOT – BUT she is going to gain even more. I’m not talking about weight, stop worrying so much about that. I’d write about how she’ll get a new job in a new city and how J&R will become more like family than bosses. I would tell her that sometimes taking comfort in people from your past is ok. Just be prepared to accept the consequences. People have a hard time changing. Never take advantage of breathing. To trust her instincts, except for maybe with that one guy. In that situation maybe listen to R. I mean come on – we ALL knew that was a terrible idea. You meet your person over beer and mac and cheese burgers. It’ll be one of your most important friendships – you got lucky. You’re in for quite a surprise at 23. I promise you just need to make it until then. The Macarena works. Grab a map. You’re about to go on a journey to find yourself.
25-year-old me. What is there to say to 25-year-old me? I think that I would just tell her to prepare as much as possible. For anything. This next chapter is going to be really tough. Especially the next year and a half. I don’t know much more now than I knew then, except that life is REALLY complicated. Lean on Mike when you need to. Trust your body. I would tell myself that she has incredible friends and to let them help her. It doesn’t make her weak. That even though the future is going to start to look unclear and scary, that she can do this. One step at a time.
You see, there’s all these things I would say to myself. Little letters I would mail in purple envelopes. To ease the stress and pain. To give myself hope and courage in the times that I’ve felt low. To know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Here’s the thing though, I am scared of tunnels.. And I can’t write younger versions of myself letters. Well I can, but I spilled wine on the instruction manual for my time machine. So, they aren’t getting anywhere. What I can do though is, avoid tunnels like the plague, because … well … irrational fears. What else I can do is write letters to future Caitlin. To ease the stress and pain. Make myself feel less alone. But that’s a letter to be mailed at another time.
Zebra’s Crossing 