I have a friend – my best friend,
to be specific. One of many best friends, because I am lucky, though she holds
the distinction of being my best friend for the longest period of time. I have
a friend who is very different from me, though very much the same in some ways.
Some times I think that if we hadn’t met at such a young age, or if we lived in
the same city, or if we saw each other in any circumstances other than those we
have to laboriously manufacture for ourselves, we wouldn’t be friends at all. And
then I’m grateful that those things define the parameters of our friendship,
because I like her so very much. I’m writing this because I know she’ll see it
eventually and I know she’s about to go do a very hard thing. And I might
alienate some of the people in her life because they are telling her very
different things, but she needs to hear them again and again until they either
stop being pertinent or she has them committed to memory.
Ignore your parents. I don’t mean
always. Don’t ignore their advice about not racking up to much credit card debt,
or which car to buy. Don’t ignore your dad’s lectures on saving for the future,
because one day you’ll be his age, too. Don’t ignore what your mom says about
the men in your life because she can see their motivations with a clarity you
can’t. But do ignore their worry. Ignore their terror you won’t be “more
successful” than them. You get to define your success, not them. They did an
excellent thing, setting you up for the life you’re about to lead, but none of
that means anything if you let them hang it like an anchor around your neck. I
know they mean well and they just want what’s best for you. But if you don’t
figure that out on your own, you’re going to resent them. They’ll be mad
because they’ll insist they know what’s best, but tell them now you’d rather
give them the momentary satisfaction of an “I told you so” than plague yourself
with a “what if” for the rest of your life. Let them worry. But don’t let them
worry you into inaction.
Ask for help. You are so very
proud, and I would fix all your problems every time I get a panicked voicemail
if I could. But I don’t have that kind of power, and I think that’s why you
come running to me first. I don’t know why you think this, but asking for help
isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of trust. It means you trust someone
enough to let them see you for what you really are, which is human. You’re
beautiful even when you’re so panicked that you’re calling me and texting me at
the same time. You talk with a laugh in your voice, and even when you’re on the
verge of tears, I can still hear it there. Your whole body vibrates when you
talk about anything, including impending homelessness and failing grades, that
makes it seem like you’re so alive that you’re going to jump into a higher
level of humanity at any second now. Let people other than me see this. The
great thing about being beautiful – and I don’t mean just physically – is that
you are in the middle of a crowd of people who would love it if you crowd
sourced some of your problems. I promise that for every problem you have,
someone around you has the answer. Sometimes it’ll be you, and sometimes it
won’t. But they won’t know to give it to you unless you let them see you need
it. And they’re scared, too. They’re scared that if they offer help when you
don’t need it, they’ll look stupid. So it’s up to you. No one is going to hand
you anything… until you ask for it.
Choose every morning what kind of
life you want. Make daily the choices that will point you in that direction. If
you don’t make a conscious decision to be always who you want to be, the path
of least resistance will pull you into someone you don’t like. Probably not
someone you hate, but is that a risk you’re willing to take? Be with who makes
you happy, do what makes you smile, and most of all, make sure that if you had
to confront yourself in the past, you could honestly tell yourself you’ve
improved. But you’re stubborn, and I know that you’ll think this means making the things you want to happen,
happen. That’s not true, either. The only thing we can control is our reaction.
To anything. You cannot force your way into the school or job you want, you
cannot force someone to love you, you really cannot force much of anything.
Certainly you can pursue these things, and you should, because inaction is a
reaction too. But please, carry with you the clarity to know when something
isn’t your fault. Continually act and react like the person you want to be, and
through that habit, make it a reality.
I know I don’t have the answers. In
fact, five years from now I’m sure we’ll laugh at this because it’ll be
hilarious how much I thought I knew. But right now, we’re young enough not to
know better, so it’ll suffice. And in five years I’ll write you a new list of
things I want you to remember as you start the next hard thing. Finally, a
couple more things you already know, but it won’t hurt to hear again. I love
you in that totally lame way that inspires needlepoint platitudes. You can do
anything, and the only thing stopping you is your own fear. You are surrounded
by people who feel the exact same way, even if they don’t say it or say it as
nicely. You look good in red lipstick. I love the sound of your laugh,
especially when you snort. Stop hunching, you’re tall and you just have to deal
with it. And when all else fails, hug the buffalo.
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