letters: a series (to tomorrow's me)

to my future self,

OMG hi, this is so cool. I hope this letter finds you doing well. you were doing well on january 14, 2020 at 9:17pm if that's any comfort. granted, I know that life will have gotten unfathomably more intricate and chaotic since writing this. so I hope that this letter finds you well, but I also hope that it serves as a reminder of how far you've come. I hope you've broken your back working toward your goals (but also given yourself the necessary room to breathe) and I hope you ate your weight in pasta during college (but also learned to nurture your body) and I hope you have fallen in and out of love with people, places, and memories. I hope you've felt pain and I hope even more that you've met bright souls who help to soften the pain. I hope you've discovered new passions and grown to love your quirks. I hope you no longer feel self-conscious about the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile and I hope you have learned the art of forgiveness. I hope you've grown more patient over the years and I hope you've checked off lots of bucket list items. I hope you've adopted a kitten or two and I hope you've acquired a taste for mushrooms. I hope you see how much you have to offer and I hope you're not overlooking that. I hope you're gentle with yourself and I hope you embrace the messiness every once in a while. I hope you're still asking questions (probably too many) and I hope you've learned how to prioritize. I hope you rise to the occasion when it is called for and I hope you are gracious in the face of adversity. I hope you've kept your promise to travel a lot; I hope that as you're reading this, fond memories of Thailand, Greece, Ireland, and South Africa are close to your heart. I hope you've finally watched Good Will Hunting and I hope you have still never set foot in a pair of crocs. I hope you never settle and I hope you're still the risk-taker you were at age 17. I hope you have beautiful children who teach you more than you ever thought they woud, and I hope that you let them fall and make mistakes but ultimately guide them toward becoming the best versions of themselves (like Mom and Dad did for us). I hope you're still the go-getter you are now and I hope you've become someone you're proud of.

it is far too easy to become swept up in the temporary and tangible parts of life. you spent your entire teenhood wishing desperately to be an adult, impatiently waiting for the rite of passage that would grant you the maturity, respect, and validation you felt you needed in order to get places in life. I hope you've learned to slow down. and I hope you're living somewhere surrounded by lots of trees and open sky. whatever you're doing right now, pause. go outside to read the rest of this, and sit on your porch (I hope you have one) that looks out on your beautiful garden (I hope you've started one). you learned at a young age to appreciate the natural beauty of this world, and I hope that passion has only strengthened throughout the years.

if you've hit a wall or you feel like you're in a stagnant part of your life, do something about it. move. look up a 10-minute yoga video on youtube and do it right now. dream up a cali road trip itinerary, take a week off work and then do it. reach out to an old friend and suggest coffee on you. call your mom and tell her about the stagnant way you're feeling, because guarunteed she'll be able to say something that makes you feel better. write the book you've been telling yourself you'd publish since high school; just start with a chapter and go from there. set the wheels in motion--go to karaoke night at your local bar and completely embarrass yourself but acknowledge how alive it makes you feel. volunteer at a local resale shop or animal shelter. do something that makes your heart beat a little faster and your cheeks flush a little brighter.

I'd be disappointed if you're reading this years from now without a cat purring on your lap and a good book bookmarked next to you. the 17-year old you had a lot of goals for the adult you, and I hope you've had a go at some of them. I hope your sense of self has become an anchor, because it will help you weather the storms life throws at you and it will ground you when you've lost sight of yourself and it will make your heart feel like a big family-size container of ice cream. I hope your fire is still going strong, and I hope you haven't given anyone the power to extinguish it. you've always been able to find inspiration in the world around you. and you've never surrendered, so don't let that change now. you've always been your worst critic, and you've always allowed the unattainable ideal of perfection to discolor your joy. so I hope that time has wisened you, and I hope you've learned to find beauty in the imperfection. things are a whole lot easier when you don't spend so much time anticipating the next step.

just as the moon goes through phases of emptiness to become full again, and the tides ebb and flow, may life continue to teach its tough lessons, and may you become a gracious student to them. stay true. you are loved and you are held in grace. I'm excited for us, and I'm excited for you.

yours always,

kate x