I’m Not Writing a Letter to the Sixteen Year Old Me
It’s something many of us have done. Written that letter to our 16 year old selves about how we shouldn’t worry about our thighs, not to worry about whether we will find someone to love, or will you get that dream job.
I don’t know about you, but if 16 year old me got a letter from 38 year old me I don’t think she would have listened anyway.
I have pondered whether our 16-year-old selves would be happy with how we’ve lived our life. At 16 or even 20 years of age you have so many goals; have you reached yours?
I know that as a 16-year-old girl I was stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. I knew what I knew because of the experiences I had. I reacted to things because of the experiences I had. I can’t be held accountable for what I did not know.
Like, crying at a school disco won’t spell the end of your social standing.
But I did worry what the other kids would think. I did worry that no boy would every like me. I did worry that my thighs were too big.
And you know how you can have the good without the bad? Well this is it. We have to sweat the small stuff, to realize that we in fact don’t have to sweat the small stuff.
The problems we faced when we were 16 were huge. For us. At the time. Sure I can look back now and realize those problems were miniscule compared to what I face now but then I couldn’t appreciate what an adult, with a marriage and 4 kids and bills and commitments and obligations and….
You get my drift. I can’t look into the future to appreciate my present. And what happens in my present is what affects my future.
And at 16 even if one if my ‘elders’ had said to me “All that stuff you worry about. Just don’t.” I wouldn’t have listened.
“You don’t get me. Your time is different to my time. School is different. Boys are different. Society is different”.
Earlier this year we were away on our family holiday and I was shopping at the supermarket with 2 of my kids. Well they were getting antsy and I was getting frustrated. An elderly gentleman walked towards us and just as he was passing me he turned his head slightly and said, “it will work out”. And kept on walking.
I watched him walk away for a couple of seconds and then looked back at my kids. It was a nice reminder to not sweat the small stuff.
I’m sure future 68 year old me would have something to say to current 38 year old me.
All we can do is just live life with no regrets.
Maria is a former high flying corporate marketing guru who gave it all up for daytime television and tracksuit pants….oh and to raise her children.
Maria is a freelance writer of articles, scripts, marketing documents and one day, books. She is a wife, mother of four and draws much of her inspiration from her children and the crazy world she brought them into.
She blogs regularly on Mum’s Word (www.mariatedeschi.com/mumsword), where she discusses news, social issues and what it’s like to raise a family in the 21st century. Her aim is to make you think.