Sunday, December 11, 2022

A Letter to My Much Younger Self

 


Dear Me,

     Dear me, dear me, dear me.  You've carried so much guilt and regret through life, much of it not yours to carry.  

     This is the year that you turned 60, or as Mom would have reminded you on our birthday "It is the beginning of your 61st year."  Regardless of whether I'm now 60 or on the precipice of 61, it is an age I never thought I would reach for many reasons, at many ages.  But I'm here now, and I've learned much.

     First, stop regretting saying no to Colorado and Jay when he asked you some 40 years ago.  Honestly.  If he truly loved you and was the "right one" (as if there is such a man) he would have come back and fought for you.  He would not have simply disappeared into the night.  Don't waste your time looking for him.  He wasn't "the one."

     I could tell you to not marry this one or that one, but I won't.  Each marriage, each wrong choice, and each bad decision came with lessons and positives.  You gained more than you lost with each of them.  Remember that.  They made you who you are today.  Stronger.  Wiser.  Resilient.  And you like who you are today.  But I will tell you this:

     Sex does not equal love.  Period.  Just because some guy wants in your pants, does not mean he loves you.  I get that you didn't have good examples of what love was.  Or what a good marriage is. But you won't find love in someone's bed or the back seat of a car.  Love yourself.  Love God.  Don't look for Dad's love and acceptance in someone else, you won't ever find it.  

     You are not responsible for someone else's happiness, or bad decisions, or wrong choices.  Don't carry the responsibility for what they did and blamed on you.  Don't let yourself be gas-lighted.  You also cannot change someone else with love.  No matter how much you love them.  The only person you can ever change is yourself.  That might mean you leave sooner, or never marry them, but so be it.  Make that decision with more wisdom and less guilt.

     Just don't leave before you get a certain dog you named Trooper.  He was the one true love of your life.  The right one.  A soul dog if there ever was one.

     Moisturize more.  Especially your neck and upper chest.   Aging sucks and that area shows it the most these days.

     Wear sunscreen.  ALWAYS!  Everywhere!  Get in that habit early.  Like when you are 10 and move to Arizona.  Don't go to that wave pool and get 2nd-degree sunburn on your back.  Demand that Mom put sunscreen on your back or wear white t-shirts to the pool.  You will thank me for it later.  Skin cancer, even basal cell, is no laughing matter.  Although pretending to be a pirate for a few weeks when you had that three-inch incision on your cheek was pretty funny.

     Speaking of that ... don't let society dictate your self-image.  Or insecure, narcissistic, manipulative, horses' hind ends.  You. Are. Beautiful. Just. As. You. Are.  And don't cry and freak out when you find that first white hair.  Don't color your hair either.  One day you will appreciate how beautiful your strawberry blonde becomes when it is more blonde than strawberry.

     Be true to yourself.  Respect yourself even when others don't.  Wait for love.  Hold on to your faith.  It will be there when no one else is, and never let you down.  You will find that family you've always wanted in a good church.  Don't give up hope for that.  I know because I found it now.

                                                                     Love,  Me.

3 comments:

  1. Some painful lessons there - but powerful ones too.

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  2. Yes, and truth be told, even if my younger self had read a letter like this from a future me, it is doubtful I would have taken heed to all of it. But perhaps another younger generation who happens upon this blog would take note.

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  3. That's a beautiful letter. Yes to the moisturizer and sunscreen.

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