I’ve seen a lot of people write letters to their younger selves on their blogs – which I love.
They make me think – what would I tell myself, six and a half years ago?
What would I say, at that turning point in my life. That point in which I decided to leave uni. That crossroad, that fork, that unexpected turn.
I’d probably say something like this:
I know you’re having a rough time. I know nothing seems right, like you feel you don’t have a place in this life.
Everything is uncertain and you are questioning everything you’ve ever strived for.
I know you are so worried about disappointing people.
All these things and more I know.
You have two options as you see them now:
One: To persevere with your studies. Keep going. You are a semester and one credit shy of your degree. 6 months and an online study unit and you are done.
It will be 6 months of hunger. You are so hungry right now – living off discounted bread and $1 margarine and bulk bags of frozen dim sims.
It will be 6 months of loneliness. You have friends, but you don’t ever feel like you belong.
It will be 6 months of just getting by, and leaving home early to avoid your housemates and your landlord.
But in 6 months you will be finished your degree. The world will be your oyster. As much of an oyster as a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Drama and English can bring, anyway.
Two: Defer. Move back to Young and work.
Earn some money, have fun with your friends.
But I’m telling you, if you make that move your life will change forever.
In a way you would never expect it to.
You are going to meet a boy. A man.
He is kind. He is considerate. He is sensitive.
He loves you, he just doesn’t know it yet.
You are fire and brimstone, stubborn and immovable, driven. You are also funny and fun, and beautiful, and so bloody skinny – on that note, please stop thinking you are some kind of giant of a girl. Size 10 does not a giant make.
He is calm waters, deep waters. Malleable, caressing waters. He is quietly funny. He is handsome. He has gorgeous curly hair – on that note, don’t get too attached to the hair.
He is your yin.
You will fall madly, deeply, over the top in love with him. That feeling lasts three months, by which time you have already moved in together.
And then you fall sensibly, truly in love with the person you realise you didn’t really know before. But you know him now, and love him more.
You will realise he is the person you are going to marry, the father of your future children.
The two of you will share devastating losses, thrilling triumphs. Arguments, love-making, home ownership, a love of iPhones.
He will throw your lives to the wind, just for a moment.
What will eventually seem like a blip on your eternal map, but whilst you are enduring your pain you will be so consumed by the loss of him you won’t be sure if you’ll ever allow him to return to you.
But he comes back. You stop short of having your martyrdom bronzed.
And you return home to one another’s hearts.
You will have three children.
First you will lose something most precious. Your first baby. You’ll be changed forever.
And then, a girl. A perfect, doll-like, calm as the waters girl. She is the light, the eye of your storm. She grounds you, grows you up. She gives you purpose.
Twin boys. Identical. The eldest is like his sister and father. Calm as the waters. He has some of you though – hell will freeze over before he ever gives up and tantrums are hot, but flash in the pan.
The youngest is special. He’ll be unwell for awhile. He’ll struggle. But you know he will be fine. He is your boy after all. Fire and brimstone. Stubborn and immovable. Funny and fun. He is your fighter. And he will fight all his life for what he believes in.
Both boys are juggernauts.
I won’t lie to you – it’s hard. It’s not all cuddles and snuggles and walks to the park.
In fact, you don’t go to the park often because only crazy people take three toddlers to the park on their own and set them loose.
And you are many things, but you are not that kind of crazy.
You will become so offended by poo that you want to cry when someone needs a nappy change.
You will learn to accept grit under your feet and yogurt on your couch.
You will learn humility, responsibility.
But you will mostly learn that love, in it’s most pure and untouched form, in it’s most base level, is the love a mother has for her child, and sees reflected back in her child’s eyes.
If I could be you again, Daisy? If I could go back and make the choice – I wouldn’t be able to choose differently. I know what’s in store for you.
And I know that if I told you now, to choose differently, to stay at uni?
You’d follow the same path I did, simply because you were told not to.
I mean, what does a 28 year old you know, that a 22 year old doesn’t, right?
So, my advice, for you – for me, 6 and a half years ago?
Drink less now, you’ll need better liver function later. You’ll be spending a lot of time in your pantry of an afternoon, and there’s not much else to do in there but drink.
Always remember that your husband is your ally, not your enemy. Except in the age old battle of who deserves the sleep in. The answer is always YOU.
You don’t always have to be right.
Never take love for granted.
You just have to be you.
That’s all the world has asked for, so far…