Recently, I have seen this question going around the Internet: What would you tell your younger self if you could? I've thought about it for a while, and at first, I was pretty sure whatever I would say would depend on my mood at the moment. When I let myself imagine it, I imagined I would grin, pat you on the back, and then walk away. I imagined I would sigh, hug you tight, kiss your forehead, and then walk away. It occurred to me that no matter my mood, I always walked away. Why? I wondered more about why I always walked away than I did about the things I would say. Then I realized the best thing you will ever learn to do is find your own way.
I couldn't see myself saying that to you because nothing is going to teach you this lesson, and all that it implies, better than the day when you are made to understand your only other option is to lay down and give up on life and all that it is. You won't choose that, I know, so I don't really have much to say.
But I think seeing me and hearing me speak might make one era or another a little easier if only because even absent of why or how, you know you will survive. So, I think I will say this, something maybe inconsequential to you finding your own way, but something you won't see coming: Some people are going to place your value in your looks, and you are going to know who they are in singular moments, when you realize they like you, maybe even adore you, but they don't even know who you are. You will pay attention to that, as you should, because in exactly this same way, you will also discover those who value you not for you, but for what they believe they can take from you.
You are also going to grow up in a culture that persistently reinforces the idea that your greatest value, sometimes your only value, is in your youthful appearance which will never be good enough not to need something more. You will not know just how much this affects you. In fact, one day, when you catch a glimpse of age in the mirror -- the new lines in your face, the new location of your girls, the way your knees look a little odd, and the way, now, you wave with your entire arm -- the affect it's had on you is going to take you by surprise. Your sincerity is going to make you both a little sad and a little nauseous when you wonder if you are as attractive to your husband as you used to be, and will he love you every bit as much, or better yet more, when he can catch a glimpse of the girl you once were only occasionally in the light in your eyes.
Though it won't last long, or maybe it will come and go, you will go through a phase when you are almost daring him not to notice the new dress, the new hairstyle, or whatever effort you've put forth, and when he fails, you will disappear in a huff to emerge in sweats and a T-shirt. By now, you realize yes, you will always be a little absurd, but don't worry -- you will learn to love it, or to at least maintain a sense of humor about your own foolishness. You will remember it is unfair to them and no good to you to look to others to confirm or deny your own strengths and insecurities. You will remember that your value could be naught but an illusion if it isn't what you have found and cultivated within yourself. One day, when he doesn't know you are watching, you will see him put your needs first in a way you were not sure you could have been so selfless, and you will remember what you value most in others, and especially, that man. You will not only let go of the trivial, but you will embrace age and all that it is. You will even hope to grow very old and very shriveled because as your 42 year old self writes to your 22 year old self, somehow your 82 year old self looks on, knowing those lines around your eyes-- they mean you loved and you lived alive.
I love you, girl.
Us.
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