A letter to the younger me

I am 11 and I have meticulously picked out my outfit for the first day of school. I am full of nerves and excitement, anxious to see what awaits me in the hallowed halls of junior high. I am 11 and I begged my mom to buy me a tote bag from Victoria’s Secret to use as a backpack. I walk the halls, probably almost toppling over with the weight of my books and potential. I practiced opening my locker. I memorized my schedule. I am ready. I was very confident in my choice of outfit: yellow and pink tie-dye Soffe shorts paired with a white tank top and sneakers. I remember walking towards my assigned home room and feeling like I missed the memo. The girls that I had grown up alongside since kindergarten suddenly looked much older than me, and dressed that way too. No longer were tie-dye Soffe shorts the pinnacle of fashion; jean shorts were what you were expected to wear. I seemed to have been left out of the loop. I realized that the gap between 5th and 6th grade is much larger than I was initially made to believe. There seemed to be an unspoken understanding of what a tween girl needed to be deemed cool. One of those things, which will probably reveal how long it’s been since I was 11, was a BlackBerry. I did not have a phone or any interest in one until it seemed like I was the only one without one. I begged my parents, citing that if I stayed late for an after-school program, they would need to know. They finally caved and got me my first phone, an Nv3. It wasn’t a BlackBerry, but I loved it all the same. I didn’t realize that in these moments of desperately trying to fit in with the ‘cool’ crowd, I was growing up, and the last licks of my childhood were slowly fading away. 

I am 11 and just before the first day of middle school, I am reunited with one of my best friends. She was away at camp all summer and I can’t wait to hear all about it. We are walking to the park, when I bring up how excited I am to finally have a locker to decorate at school and to switch classrooms.I am shocked when she turns to me and says to ‘not to be surprised if she doesn’t spend as much time with me during school this next year, she has a lot of friends from her camp that will be coming to our school as well.’I was taken aback, confused and honestly quite hurt.  I didn't understand why we couldn't all hang out together, but I wasn't one to argue. I figured we must not be as close as I had interpreted us to be. I didn’t realize that we were already drifting from each other, our friendship soon to become a distant memory. We are still acquaintances and follow each other on social media, I wish her nothing but the absolute best. The friendships you cultivate in girlhood stick with you forever, even after they may have ended. . 

I am 12 and I want to fit in. More accurate would be to say, I want to blend in. I want to go unnoticed. I latch onto the new trends, hoping that this will be my way to impress the girls in school. Shocker to all: it does no such thing.  All the girls carry purses with them to class now,so I get one too. I don’t know what they put in theirs, but I use mine as a pencil case. I straighten my hair and wear my brand new jean shorts. No matter what I do, I can’t help but feel like I’m rushing to catch up. I’m always a little too late, and as soon as I think I have finally caught up, the finish line has moved yet again. 

It’s been a long time since I was 11,16 years to be exact, but the feelings I felt on that first day of school and as a young girl wanting to fit in come back all the time. At the age of 27, I still feel lost and unsure at times. I second guess myself, and I am scared as to what my future holds. I will always want to fit in, but I am less consumed with being liked and blending in with my peers these days. Trying to blend in when you are in school is based on social survival. Nowadays, I simply do what brings me joy. It’s funny to look back on my journal entries from my middle and high school years, when I swore I was so stressed because of my upcoming math test and need for a new outfit for the pep rally. If only she knew what adulthood had in store. 

When I was 11, I had such a specific view of what adulthood would be. I pictured myself in some expertly tailored pantsuit, running through the New York City streets in my heeled shoes. I anticipated having a large office, with windows overlooking a busy city street, and having enough money to not have to ever worry. I blame movies like ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ for this interpretation of adulthood. At 11, 27 years old seems light-years away and so old. I had thought I would be married and at least have one kid by now. I guess I didn’t realize just how young 27 truly is. I anticipated having a lot more figured out by now, but I’m still learning as I go, and that’s ok. Although my life looks different than how 11 year old me interpreted it would be, I like to think she would still be impressed with how far we have come. 

I have been an avid reader and writer for as long as I can remember.  If you know me well, that sentence will not come as a remote shock to you. There are photos of me, crawling on my bedroom floor and surrounded by the books I pulled down from the shelf and was determined to try to make sense of. There is even family lore of me trying to read newspapers and magazines, instead of playing with toys. That being said, books have always been magical to me. I love that you can open to any page and instantly be transported to the world inside. I feel comforted by my favorite characters, the stories that I read so often I could recite them by heart.  My favorite stories could have me feel every emotion, travel across the world, all while never leaving the comfort of my room. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to change the hearts and minds of people, just by putting pen to paper. So that’s what I did, or more accurately what I am doing. 

Writing to me has always been sacred. I have had so many journals, I have lost count.  In the journals of my youth, I would write about my day, my hopes and fears or what I hoped to become in adulthood. One of my favorite traditions would be on the eve of my birthday, I would write out a list of what I learned the past year. As the clock struck midnight ushering me into a new age, I was ready to take on the year ahead fueled with the knowledge of my past self. What a privilege to be able to write and share your thoughts, even if no one but yourself will ever read them. 

Since I can remember, my biggest dream was to write a novel. I haven't uttered this aloud, for fear that it simply wouldn't come true. If you had asked me even a year ago if I had thought about writing a novel, I would say oh maybe one day. Why wait for one day? I dont know how to begin and dont know what I truly want to say, but I know that If I put my mind to it I can achieve it.   Who knows, maybe all of my journaling and blogging has been subconsciously preparing me for this very moment.

This is just the beginning, as I said before, 27 is pretty young yet. Where will my life be in 5 years or 10? Who will I be? As I edge further and further away from childhood and into the bright, blistering lights of adulthood, I just hope to remain happy and at peace with myself. Change is good; it is an integral to growing up. We wouldn't want to stay the exact same for the rest of our lives, what fun would that be?

I’m nearly in a new decade, which I won’t think too much about right now for fear of an existential crisis. I can't believe I only have a few short years left in my twenties; it feels like I just got here. I am excited for what the future holds and eager to see what lies ahead for me. No matter where I go on my life’s journey, I know the little girl inside me will always be along for the ride, and she is enjoying every minute. 

To Younger Shelby-

Thank you for everything. I know life might seem incredibly serious now, but it isn't. Take a deep breath, it will all work out the way it is meant to. Be kind to yourself, you are trying your best. 

See you on the other side.

All my love,

Shelby