Looking through my old journals, I came across a letter I wrote to myself when I was 17. I will be 27 in a few weeks. While it is not exactly 10 years later, it is quite close.
This letter made me cry because at 17, I was able to see so clearly.I remembered how I was feeling when I wrote it and the hope was that 10 years later, I would no longer feel that way. It is such a weird piece to read on the first day of the new year. I am so glad I read it.
It is weird. I have not changed in many respects. I am still weird. I am still fat(ter). I am still honest with myself. Thankfully, I have changed in other ways. I am no longer sad. I now have a fabulous relationship with my Mum. I have a healthier self image. I changed my mind about my career path and my 17 year old self was not surprised that I would. I am now, more comfortable in my own skin and experiences.
It is weird to look back like that.
I intend to write myself another letter to 37 year old me. Just to see what is up with me in another decade.
Since today is the first day of the year, people have begun writing resolutions, wishes, to-do lists and all that nice stuff in preparation for 2017. My Uncle says it is fun to do this but by February, it will all be abandoned.
This did not stop me from writing my own “want list”. 😄
Interestingly, I look at my list and have to admit that I have grown up. There is nothing on my list that is impossible.They are all possible. Possible and sensible.
My 17 year old self would probably raise her eyebrows at me and I would not blame her.
When did we stop dreaming about the impossible? What stopped our imagination? How did we learn to contain it? How did the mundane bring such satisfaction?
I have to wonder.
Today is the first page of 365 pages of a very blank book.
How will you fill the pages? What story will you tell? How will you tell it?
For this new year, my wish for you as it is for myself is to fill all the pages with love and laughter. Achievements and funny milestones. More moments of peace and calm than of chaos. I hope my pages lack stress. I hope my pages bring joy.
Most importantly, my pages are blank. Any story is possible. It can be crazy and wild and weird and adventurous and colourful. It can also be page after page of contentment. I don’t know what they will be filled with. They are currently blank. Any story at this point is possible. I have begun writing. My first page, today, is filled with acknowledgements.
Acknowledgements of all the people who make my life bright. It is dedicated first to God, Who speaks illumination into my darkness and then to my Mummy and big brother (and his family).
It is for my Uncle and his family and my best friend.
As for the rest of the pages, I know they will be filled…with something nice.
No matter how small.
Dear 17 year old me, thank you for the reminder and affirmations. I am still living in the clouds, I just come down to earth more frequently than you may have been used to.
This is okay.
As for this new year, don’t worry about 2017.
Anything can happen. Anything is possible.
I believe this.
Totally and Completely!
Happy New Year!