A Letter to My Younger Self

Maybe growing older isn't about fixing who we used to be. Maybe it's finally understanding her.

Dear younger me,

I wish I could tell you that I've figured everything out.

That eventually you reach an age where you stop questioning yourself.

You stop worrying.

You stop making mistakes.

You stop caring what people think.

You finally become this wonderfully evolved woman who drinks enough water, gets eight hours of sleep, remembers every appointment and never lies awake replaying a conversation from three days ago.

Unfortunately...

That's not exactly how this works.

I'm still figuring things out.

I'm still learning.

I'm still changing.

I'm still occasionally wondering what the hell I'm doing.

But there is something I know now that you didn't know then.

You never had to carry as much as you thought you did.

And I'm sorry it took me this long to understand that.

You Thought It Was Your Job to Make Everything Okay

You were always paying attention.

Watching.

Listening.

Trying to figure out how everyone was feeling.

You learned to notice when something wasn't right before anyone actually said it.

And somewhere along the way, I think you started believing that noticing a problem meant you were somehow responsible for fixing it.

If somebody was unhappy, you felt it.

If there was tension, you noticed.

If someone needed something, you wanted to help.

You became strong.

Responsible.

Aware.

And those qualities would eventually become some of the things I love most about you.

But here's what I wish somebody had told you:

Not everything you notice is yours to fix.

That's going to take us a very long time to learn.

We're still practicing.

You Don't Have to Earn Love

This one is important.

You don't have to be useful to be loved.

You don't have to make everyone happy.

You don't have to be easy.

You don't have to get everything right.

You don't have to become whatever version of yourself you think will make somebody stay.

People who love you aren't supposed to require a performance.

You're going to forget that sometimes.

You're going to work too hard for approval.

You're going to wonder why you weren't enough.

You're going to replay conversations.

You're going to take responsibility for things that were never completely yours.

And there will be times when someone else's inability to love you properly makes you question whether you were lovable.

You were.

You are.

Those two things were never the same question.

You're Going to Make Mistakes

Oh, sweetheart.

We're going to screw some things up.

I wish I could spare you from all of them.

Actually...

No.

I don't.

There are definitely a few I'd like to remove from the record.

But I wouldn't erase everything.

Because you're going to learn things from your mistakes that success could never teach you.

You're going to trust the wrong people.

Say things you wish you could take back.

Stay too long.

Leave too soon.

Make decisions you were absolutely convinced were brilliant that will later make you ask:

What in God's name was I thinking?

You're going to embarrass yourself.

You're going to fail.

You're going to hurt people.

People are going to hurt you.

And somehow you're going to keep becoming.

One mistake will never tell the whole story of who you are.

Please learn that sooner than I did.

Your Sensitivity Isn't a Weakness

You're going to spend a lot of years wishing you didn't feel things so deeply.

You'll wonder why something that rolls off another person's back stays with you.

Why you notice little changes.

Why words linger.

Why you sometimes care too much.

You're going to mistake sensitivity for weakness.

It isn't.

That sensitivity will help you understand people.

It will make you compassionate.

It will help you listen.

It will make you creative.

It will allow you to notice beauty other people walk right past.

Yes, it will hurt sometimes.

But don't harden yourself just because feeling deeply can be inconvenient.

Learn boundaries.

Learn perspective.

Learn when something isn't yours.

But don't lose the softness.

We're going to need it.

Your Body Is Going to Change

I should probably warn you about this.

Enjoy the metabolism.

Seriously.

Have another French fry.

One day you're going to discover that your body has opinions about absolutely everything.

Sleep.

Hormones.

Food.

Stress.

Temperature.

Gravity.

Apparently even sleeping incorrectly can become an injury.

But listen to me.

Don't waste so much time criticizing your body.

You're going to look back at photographs of yourself and realize you were beautiful during years when you were convinced you weren't.

And I suspect I'm going to do the same thing with photographs of myself now.

So maybe we should stop doing that.

Your body isn't decoration.

It's going to carry you through your entire life.

Strengthen it.

Feed it.

Move it.

Enjoy it.

Dress it beautifully.

Take pictures of it.

And for God's sake, stop waiting until you lose five pounds to live in it.

You're Going to Lose People

I wish I didn't have to tell you this.

Some people you love won't stay forever.

Some will leave by choice.

Some through circumstance.

Some through death.

Some relationships will slowly become something different until one day you realize you're remembering a version of them that no longer exists.

Grief is going to change you.

But love will too.

Don't avoid loving people because losing them might hurt.

The pain doesn't erase what they gave you.

Let people matter.

Even when it's risky.

You're Going to Become Someone You Can't Imagine Yet

This is the part I wish I could show you.

There are versions of you ahead that you can't picture right now.

You're going to do things you're currently afraid to do.

You're going to survive things you don't believe you could survive.

You're going to change your mind.

Start over.

Learn.

Create.

Travel.

Laugh until you can't breathe.

Cry when you thought you were finished crying.

Find confidence in places you weren't looking for it.

And you're going to become increasingly less interested in asking permission to be yourself.

That part is wonderful.

Growing older isn't going to make you disappear.

If anything...

you're finally going to start showing up.

I Used to Want to Protect You

For a long time, when I thought about my younger self, I wanted to rescue her.

I wanted to go back.

Warn her.

Protect her.

Tell her which doors not to open.

Which people not to trust.

Which choices would hurt.

I wanted to change things for her.

But I'm starting to see her differently.

Maybe she doesn't need me to rescue her.

Because somehow...

she rescued me.

She kept going.

She adapted.

She dreamed.

She found humor.

She loved people.

She got hurt and loved again.

She carried things that felt too heavy and somehow kept walking.

And eventually she became me.

While recording this episode, I cried.

Not because I suddenly felt sorry for her.

I cried because I realized how long it had taken me to appreciate her.

I've spent years examining what she should have done differently.

What she should have known.

What she should have handled better.

And maybe I've never said the thing she actually deserved to hear.

Thank you.

Thank You for Getting Me Here

Thank you for surviving the things you didn't understand.

Thank you for staying curious.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for dreaming.

Thank you for laughing.

Thank you for getting back up.

Thank you for refusing to completely lose yourself even during the years when you weren't quite sure who you were.

Thank you for every imperfect decision that eventually taught me something.

Thank you for carrying us until I was strong enough to understand that we didn't have to carry everything.

I wouldn't trade you for an easier version.

Because then I wouldn't be me.

The Stay Sexy Standard

Maybe this is one of the deepest parts of The Stay Sexy Standard.

Stay Sexy isn't about trying to stay who you were.

It's about honoring who you've been while remaining excited about who you're becoming.

You don't need your younger body back.

You don't need your younger face.

You don't need to recreate your younger life.

Take her curiosity.

Take her dreams.

Take her ridiculous sense of humor.

Take the parts of her that believed something wonderful might happen.

Then bring everything you've learned since.

That's growing older beautifully.

Not desperately reaching backward.

But taking that younger woman's hand and saying:

Come on. We still have things to do.

Dear Younger Me...

You were never supposed to have everything figured out.

Neither am I.

You weren't weak because things hurt.

You weren't foolish because you trusted.

You weren't unworthy because someone couldn't see your worth.

You weren't responsible for keeping everybody happy.

And you didn't need to become perfect to deserve a beautiful life.

I know that now.

Or at least...

I'm getting better at remembering it.

There are still adventures ahead of us.

People we haven't met.

Places we haven't seen.

Things we're going to create.

Meals we're going to eat.

Songs we're going to dance to.

Mistakes we're definitely going to make.

And probably a few things we'll do that are wildly inappropriate for our age.

Whatever that means.

So I'm not going to spend the rest of our life trying to fix you.

I'm going to appreciate you.

Because you got us here.

And from where I'm sitting...

we're just getting started.

Love,

Me.