a letter to my younger self
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." Roosevelt
--------------------------------
I’m writing to you a few weeks before your 21st birthday (woot woot) while sitting on a plane to visit your birthday-buddy in Boston. The scene is set...here we go.
There is something beautiful about you. It is a quality you have always felt but have been unable to put a name to it. It is part of you that you will dislike in many ways because it exposes you. You love with everything you have. I don’t think there is one word to describe that quality but let me tell you, it is beautiful and not something that everyone has innately. Celebrate that. Cherish it as your superpower. It will be the part of you that allows you to fall in love which certainly isn’t limited to romance. You will fall in love with life itself, with being a sister/daughter/best friend, with beautiful places and sights. You will fall in love with reading, coffee, and silence. The other side of this quality is that it inevitably puts you in the arena. You are in it darlin’ and you better be ready to bleed and get hurt. But let me tell you something, you’d much rather be in the arena than sitting in the cheap seats. The arena is where you will learn. You will learn things that make you feel good and excited about life - these lessons come when you are standing on your feet and the arena feels good as the shining lights illuminate your best features. You will also learn things that make you afraid, angry, and confused - these lessons come when you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you and all the sudden you are best friends with the dirty ground.
As much as we all love the flattering lights from above and the applause from those in the cheap seats, there is nothing more important than that time you spend in the dirt. Now, wait! Before you click off this letter, let me explain. It’s this time you spend knocked down that will show you how strong you are in the process of standing back up. It will take work and let me remind you that whenever you find yourself there the first thing you should do is take a seat. All too often we try to dust ourselves off the moment we have been knocked down. I’m all for fortitude, but I’m telling you that when you are really hurting…when getting out of bed seems as difficult as deadlifting 1,000lbs…trust me, take a seat. Lean into the thoughts and feelings that are making you uncomfortable. Let yourself feel everything you are feeling. Give yourself time and grace to heal. And as the wound begins to scar over, then the learning process begins. You begin working your way out of the trench, out of the dirt, and you begin to stand up. An important part in this step is the following: pay attention to who is sitting down there with you. Who puts down their swords, gives up the spotlight and the appearance of strength to get in the dirt with you. It may be who you hoped would be there, it may not, but hang on to the people who show up for you no matter what. Here’s another analogy…when life gets sticky, it’s like an old, dilapidated mustard yellow school bus coming to pick you up from your friends house. It isn’t glamorous, can be a little embarrassing, and just overall not so great. On the other hand, when life feels a little better, it’s like being picked up in a limousine (or a BMW or a Range Rover…whatever floats your boat). My advice is this: the people in your life who will take that broken down bus with you are the ones worth fighting for. Keep them around, tell them you love them, and they better know that when roles are reversed and life gets hard for them, you’ll be the damn bus driver picking them, choosing to ride it with them through the darkest of days.
There’s something I want you to know about life, particularly the hard parts of it. I want you to know that it is okay to not be okay. That is a cliche saying that you will hear over and over again, but maybe hearing it from yourself at almost 21 will make it sink in a little more. You will mess up. You will say and do things you aren’t proud of. Life will test you. People will come and go. Time will do its thing in more ways than one. You will hurt. You will cry. You will be in the trenches. But you will also laugh. You will feel free. You will dance. You will love. The best parts of life are just a little bit sweeter than the not-so-great parts and that makes this whole thing worth it. Remember that.
Never let the tough parts of life harden you to the world. Of course, you will feel sad and angry and confused and lost at times. All of those are valid reasons for losing sight of the joy and beauty that this life is. But you must remember that this life is good and you are lucky to be here. The birds are still chirping, the sun still woke up today, your coffee is still hot (and very delicious). I’m going to give you advice from one of my favorite authors/speakers/badass women for whenever you feel yourself losing that soft, grateful view of the world. Glennon Doyle says, “just keep doing the next right thing”. That’s it. Because when you don’t even want to brush your teeth, taking everything one day at a time seems pretty daunting. So young Em/reader, just keep doing the next right thing.
Sooner or later you will be standing again with the lights shining on you. This time you are stronger with battle scars and dirt on your face. You feel beautiful, strong, and more prepared. You’ve been tested, and here you are. You belong in the arena. Never settle for the cheap seats. Fall, heal, learn, rise, repeat. Yes, it will hurt at times but as Elizabeth Gilbert says, “grace will take you places hustle can’t”. So be kind to yourself and in this case, grace looks like riding the old school bus with your best friends knowing damn well that living life in the arena is worth it every single time.
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #454545} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #454545; min-height: 14.0px}