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Hey There, Ms. 20-Year-Old You.
Hang on, girl.
Here comes another letter. Yes, another one of those letters. You know -- the vaguely drippy kind, written from older me to younger you? Is it just me, or are those things everywhere? Especially the ones from women turning 40 ....
40 Things Women in Their 40s Want to Say to Women in Their 20s
40 Things I Wish I Had Known When I Was 20
Letter to 20-Year-Old Me on My 40th birthday
It's as if hitting your 40th year suddenly ignites your inner Plato, and there's this profound need to drop wisdom, in blog form, on mass numbers of 20somethings.
Are you weary of it yet?
If so, here's a bit of comfort for you. This letter is from a 39-year-old. Yep. I'm only 39. I will be 40 in about eight hours, but whatever. Why get tangled up in technicalities? For now it's just us -- you at 20 and me holding strong at 39.
I can promise you a few things about this letter:
1. I'm not going to say stuff like, "You're half my age!" (because really, you're not. I'm only 39, and calling you half my age? Well, that would just be bad math).
2. I'm not going to say I'm old enough to be your mother (because ... well, because I really don't like to think about things like that ...)
And ...
3. I'm not going to be preach at you.
Wait. Just kidding. I am going to get a little preachy, but I promise it will be quick.
Ready?
Love your body the way it is, date the nice guy, listen to your parents, be kind to the waitress, choose good friends, say I'm sorry, don't compare yourself, make your own path, remember grades are not everything, take chances and love a lot.
There.
That's it for the preaching.
Now, I'm just going to talk. Not at you, but to you. Because, yeah, there is something about 40 (even though I'm not 40 yet. I'm just kind of assuming here ...) that makes you want to reach back to your 20-year-old self and help her along a bit. But it doesn't work that way. So us 39- and 40-year-olds reach out to others. And in that way, although these letters are scripted to you, Ms. 20, they really are a lot about us. (But you already knew that, didn't you?)
I digress.
Let's get on with this ...
Hey There, Ms. 20-Year-Old You,
I'm turning 40 tomorrow. Turning 40. It sounds like bad milk, I heard someone say. Um, maybe. But I prefer to picture it as the hands of a clock or the ocean's tide. A steady, rhythmic movement from one place to the next. But there I go getting distracted again. Here's my point. I am about to be 40, but I'm remembering 20. Thinking about me (almost) two decades ago. And well, thinking about you, Ms. 20. Ah, yes. Back to you.
Can I share just a bit? I have only a few words. Think of it as me handing you a card. You would smile, tear into the envelope, flip it open and read my writing:
Be 20.
Really that's it. I might add a smiley face, but the words would stay the same. And if I could somehow take your 20-year-old hand in mine, I would meet your gaze and tell you to just be 20.
When you are my age (and you willl be one day), you will have a handful of stories about getting it wrong. Moments you regret. Days you wish you could do ever. And there will be this huge temptation to give little "Learn From My Mistakes" speeches to, well, anyone. And in some ways, sometimes, you should do that.
But get this. When you are 39, all full of even more wisdom than you are right now? So much of it will have come from all your mistakes. And all my wisdom? (There's not a ton of it, but heck yeah, I will own some.) So much of it comes from all my mistakes. My mess ups at 20 and 30 and every number in between.
So, if I tell you all the ways to do 20 "right," it's almost as if I rob you of your discovery of that very thing. And if I give you my list of 40 Things I Wish I Had Known, it's kind of like handing you a cheat sheet ...
... when we're not really going for the CliffsNotes™version of this whole life thing.
Even if I could save you from every mistake, Ms. 20, I wouldn't. Because I'd much rather sit down with you 19 years from now, hear your stories of self-discovery, laugh and say, "Omg! Yes! I learned that, too!" rather than, "Mmmhmm. I told you that would happen."
And ...
And I think that's all I'm going to say.
I had two more paragraphs, but I deleted them because this letter was beginning to smell of preachiness again. Remember, I made a promise about that.
And besides, you have a lot of discovering to do. A lot of life to live. So do I. Plus I have a birthday celebration to get to.
So find your way, Ms. 20. And then come tell me all about it.
I can barely wait.
With love,
Ms. 39-Year-Old Me
Full Disclosure: I don't know all the ways to do 20 right. I know some ways. I'm counting on you to figure out the rest. (Smiley face.)
xoxo
Jai (at 20)