22 Letters To My Selves

It's less than a week until my 22nd birthday, and I have incredibly mixed feelings about this. I'm heartbroken to be spending another birthday this ill. My health is no better, in fact it's possibly even worse, than at my 21st birthday, and that feels like a punch in the gut to think about. On the other hand, it's pretty incredible to think about the fact that I've now toughed it out for almost 22 whole years on this planet. So, sorrow aside - as the title suggests, I decided to write 22 letters to my selves. There's several reasons I wanted to do this, and that I wanted to share this. I hope you enjoy it and that it makes you feel something.

To my newborn self,

Welcome! Fàilte! Bienvenue! Aloha! Velkommen! You’re probably pretty overwhelmed right now - just know that you are more loved than you could ever imagine.

To my 1-year-old self,
I know that learning to do new things is difficult, and there’s so much to learn! You’re doing great.

To my 2-year-old self,

You’ll find the words for your experiences in due time.

To my 3-year-old self,
All of this chaos will make sense eventually.

To my 4-year-old self,

I know you’re only one little person in a big, intimidating world, but you can trust adults in your life to look after you.

To my 5-year-old self,
You'll soon start to realise you can't be good at everything - but you are still good enough, regardless. Remember that.

To my 6-year-old self,
I know you assume everyone feels as worried as you constantly do, but you should talk to your parents about that.

To my 7-year-old self,

Purely hypothetically speaking, if you’re ever given the opportunity to ride down a hill on your bike, maybe don’t do it unless you know how to ride said bike. You will still have a hypothetical scar 14 years later. Also, NEVER try and cut your own hair at home. Wonky fringes aren't cute.

To my 8-year-old self,
Thank you for being brave enough to stand up for what you believe in, and giving me the opportunity to proudly say I’ve been vegetarian for over a decade.

To my 9-year-old self,

Don’t stop writing, and don’t stop dreaming. Maybe give up trying to read Shakespeare though.

To my 10-year-old self,

I know you love those mini Oreos you just discovered on holiday, but stop eating them over your Nintendo DS. You’ll literally never get those crumbs out of the speakers.

To my 11-year-old self,
The headaches and mood swings will go away in a year or two. Puberty’s just a bitch. You should tell your parents about how sad and numb you’re feeling, though.

To my 12-year-old self,

Look up time-lapse photoshop videos online before you start comparing yourself to girls in magazines. In fact, just stop comparing yourself to an airbrushed Miley Cyrus altogether. You’ll learn later that she felt bad about herself then, too.

To my 13-year-old self,

Please be kind to yourself. You deserve better than how you think about, talk about, and treat yourself. You should check out the symptoms of OCD too, you might be surprised how much suddenly makes sense.

To my 14-year-old self,

Your symptoms are real, even if people don’t believe you. Believe yourself. Fight for yourself.

To my 15-year-old self,

Stop. Counting. Calories.

To my 16-year-old self,

It really is ok if you’re not straight - nobody will stop being your friend because of it. You should learn to blend your eyeshadow though.

To my 17-year-old self,

Not everyone is going to like you, and there's nothing you can do about that. Try and accept that you can never be friends with everyone. And, seriously, cool it on the caterpillar brows!

To my 18-year-old self,
It's not worth spending time with people who you feel you have to work hard and alter yourself to be accepted by. Ground yourself, work out who you are and who you want to be, and take it from there.

To my 19-year-old self,
Stop pushing yourself so hard. Your health is not out of the danger zone - this can and will catch up with you if you don't slow down.

To my 20-year-old self,
Admitting that your relationship with someone is making you miserable doesn't mean you're calling them a bad person. Sometimes the only healthy thing to do is draw a line in the sand and start to move on.

To my 22-year-old self,
I hope the world starts to feel less blurry for you soon. Don't let the fear of not being good enough keep you from your writing. Maybe your poetry is good, maybe it's garbage. That doesn't matter. You're trying to find yourself in amongst those metaphors and similes, and if it helps things become clearer then that's all that matters.