a future letter to myself

When I was a senior in high school, our school hosted Kairos retreats, these spiritual, soul-searching seminars that consisted of sharing stories and experiences with each other — it was definitely life-changing for me. And on the last day of Kairos, we were tasked with writing letters to our future selves. I remember putting the pen to the paper and not knowing what to say — I had always wrote what had happened in my life, but never really about what I wanted in life. Of course, life as an 18-year old consisted of making sure I had a well-rounded student life — I was the captain of the girl’s varsity basketball team, had a 4.21 GPA, was the secretary of the ASB, got voted class clown, got along with all the social groups at school. I mean, my life was pretty solid. But, that was pretty much it — the goal was to get into a good college so I could get a good job. Once I get the good job, I would become an adult. And when I’m adult, I would have figured it all out…whatever the fuck it was.

Yeah, I was 18. I don’t think I understood the concept of time — time seemed infinite back then. Growing up was something that would happen later. But, I think that later is finally here. I’m turning 27.5 years old this week — and man, time seems more prevalent now.

I think it’s because I measure my life in milestones. And because I am in my late twenties — newishly single, not entirely rolling in cash, hungover for days from a few drinks, not really sure of what my life plan is supposed to look like in a few years, and barely keeping my succulents alive — I wonder when I’m supposed to know when I’m an adult. When I pay for my own things? When I get married? When I have kids? When this, when that. Do I even look old enough to buy alcohol?

Yeah, those stream of thoughts are real and daunting AF. But, as I sit here in my layers of blankets, sipping tea, I have to remind myself that this place that I’m at right now is not the place I planned for even a year ago — and that’s possibly for the better. I can dig myself a hole of anxiety, but man, there’s this amazing feeling of just letting go and letting God. It’s faith. It’s hope. Even if you’re not religious, it’s the spiritual concept that with a little bit of hard work, a good perspective, and a good heart, you will be okay.

And in 2.5 years when I’m 30 and freaking the fuck out…I want to remind myself that I will be okay too. And of course, because we live in an amazing world full of technology (but no hoverboards), that ability actually exists —this website called FutureMe.org lets people write emails to their future selves at a future date. It’s the new, tech-y way to do it without relying on someone to snail mail it to you. So 2015, right?

Anyway, I’m giving it a shot — here’s a draft of a future letter to my 30 year old self that I will probably re-write 100 times, but whatever.

Dear 30-year old Jaimee,

Happy birthday! I hope you’re on a crazy vacation right now with your hot husband. Sike, are you even married? If not, that’s cool…live your life, live YOUR life (but…maybe it’s time to activate your back-up? okay no…go find the love of your life and make beautiful halfsie babies).

Anyway, remember that time you shared this letter with the entire world? Well…it’s time for you to read it again. Here’s all the stuff I want you to know as you enter a new decade. It may seem a bit juvenile because it is coming from the 27.5 year old version of you and you may have grown up a lot since then…or not, but it’s the best that you could come up with. And you can’t really be disappointed by YOU, right? Okay, here it goes…

What are you up to? How’s life? Man, I really hope you traveled. There’s so much to see and so many people to meet. I also hope you continued to write a bit. Does Medium still exist? How’s @brunchbackwhale and @fungaged doing? Is that how you’re a millionaire now? Damn, I wish I could get coffee with you, is that weird? Are you going to be wiser than me? I wonder what that would look like? Do you still dress like a grandma? Have you found a mentor? Are YOU a mentor? Are you still funny? Where do you live now? Are you seeing anyone? How’s work? OMG all the questions. See, I don’t even know what to say.

That was awkward word vomit, you make me nervous. Ugh. Okay, let me start over. That shit above was small-talk, but now that we’re passed that…I hope you know, more than anything, that being a successful 30-year old isn’t about how much money you have, lofty job titles, being married, or having kids, etc. Those are all nice-to-haves, and that’s okay if you do or don’t have any of that yet. But, I just want you to be a better person than when you were at 29 and 28 and 27, etc. In a way that makes you…YOU.

Being 30 is about being a better person each and every day — so that you can attract the best love you deserve, so you can help others, so you can feel happiness and not feel guilty about it, so you can be sad and know how to get through it.

I know you are competitive and putting goals out into the world makes it ownable and trackable, but it’s okay if you don’t get to them all. Shit will happen, things will shift, stuff will break, but remember the strength that you are capable of. Remember your tribe is there when you need them. It’s okay to say goodbye to your twenties — I hear those years are just all over the place. Man, your thirties are going to be great. But, even if shit gets dark, you are able to see the positive side. I think it’s all a matter of perspective — even in the face of fear, you can see the light that can guide you home. Be open to other people and remember to listen. Be sure to stay in touch with your family and friends, this is the time when people will start their own families and all that, but it’s important to make traditions and stick to them. Be there, reach out, don’t let friendships die because of a lack of effort. I also hope you know what true, deep happiness feels like. Like true, overwhelming happiness. I don’t think you’ll know what that is though until you have kids, but I mean I hope you know how to be happy without anyone else. It’s something I wanted to figure out when we broke up…and I hope you were able find that. I hope you are less anxious too. Time is weird like that, I’m freaking out at 27.5, but I need to own it. I will. And you will own 30 too. It’s kind of insane to think so much into the future, but we both need to promise to make the best of what I have. I have to. You have to. Each second. Each minute. Each day. Time isn’t certain. So, make the fucking best of it, okay? Love. Find love. Be love. Give love. Just be awesome. You can do it.

Anyway, I can’t wait to meet you — just know that you are doing fine. Keep it up ❤

Love,

27.5 year-old Jaimee

P.S. Oh, please take care of your health. Germee Jaimee is a cute nickname, but the fact that I got sick once a month was kind of concerning. Take your vitamins, go to the gym, drink water — at 30…that’s like a whole different decade that leads to 40. Time to REALLY take care of yourself.

*this is essay 6 of many. join me every Sunday (or so) for a new one. tata.