A Message to My Eighteen-Year-Old Self

It’s weird to me that I sit here, a 20-year-old, feeling the need to write a letter to my 18-year-old self. Then again, it does feel like a million and one things have changed in my life since I was the girl that walked into Sierra Madre Tower 2 on freshman move-in day. I couldn’t have known then what would happen over the course of two years, and it would be hard to say even now all that is different in my life, but here are some things I would tell first-year Emily if I had a chance to talk to her. 

• You’re going to be overwhelmed. You’re going to be so overwhelmed—by classes, scheduling, responsibilities, friendships, relationships (or even the lack thereof)—that it’s going to feel like a punch to the gut. Actually, it’s going to feel like a recurring, never-ending punch to the gut. But over and over again, you’re going to stand your ground. You’re going to stay committed to your goals, priorities and values; you’re going to keep believing in yourself because that’s the only option. 

• The inner-workings of other people’s minds are going to remain inexplicable to you. Except for those few special relationships where you can actually just ask “Hey, what do you think of me,” you’re going to have no idea what anyone truly thinks of you. I can’t stress enough that this is actually okay. You’re not supposed to know what other people think. You’re supposed to be guided by your own thoughts and feelings to navigate the ups and downs of all your relationships. You don’t have to know how someone else feels about you to know how you feel about them. 

• You have little to no control over most of the things you want to control. Lots of times it’s going to feel like the next move you make is going to be the one that causes everything to fall into place and finally give you all that you’ve been hoping for. I truly believe that one day, we will make that move (or maybe we make little parts of that move every single day), but when we do, we’re not going to know it—so stop trying to make everything fall into place. 

• It’s okay to mess up. (For context, 18-year-old me was someone who was never late, never missed an assignment, never got a B and never felt like she was getting everything wrong.) I’m here to tell you, 18-year-old me, that you’re going to run late to some things, you’re going to forget about some assignments, you’re going to get B’s and you’re going to feel like everything in your life could fall down around you at any moment. I’m also here to tell you: that’s what makes things interesting. Those assignments you forget will give you an extra hour of sleep. Those times you’re running late will be because you were too busy dancing around the kitchen when you were supposed to be getting ready. The mistakes that send you into panic mode will eventually come back around to build a reality that is more beautiful than anything you could have ever imagined. So, mess up. Spill that coffee, misread that text message, hit on that guy who doesn’t know you exist—do it all. Whether or not your hands shake and your heart races, go with your gut and know that every screw-up is leading you in the direction you’re meant to be going. 

• Be yourself. And don’t ever apologize for it. Listen to the music you like; wear that zany t-shirt; post that funny photo; do what you want to do. Don’t question yourself. Don’t wonder whether other people will like you for that certain thing. It’s your skin and you’re the only one who has to wear it, so make yourself comfortable in it. 

• This life is NOT a performance. There is no stage. There is no audience. There is no one scrutinizing your every move—except for yourself. This is a misconception I have only recently found the words for. I have wasted so much energy on doing things in an attempt to please, to impress or to be noticed by other people. There is no glory in it. There is no one who is going to give you a standing ovation just because you’ve been trying to live in a way that makes other people admire you. Please, for your own sake, close the curtain and go home—go to where the real people are, the people who have seen you at your best and at your worst and still love you, the people who have watched you dance like no one is watching and have stuck around. I am begging you: stop trying to dance like the whole world is watching and just live. 

Although it is fun to think about what kind of message/advice/warning I would like to give my past self, I really believe it’s better that I can’t sit down with the 18-year-old me. The truth is: I could never prepare her for what’s to come—and, more importantly, I wouldn’t want to. If I had been somehow expecting the life lessons that were going to be thrown at me over the past two years, I might not have learned as much from them. It would have been too easy. Life is not about bracing for impact—it’s about being knocked down and then getting back up. I think that life at its core is often going to feel like a stressful bombardment of things that are really difficult to get through. I also truly believe that life will often feel like a shower of beauty and grace and serendipity. It’s the balance between these two states that makes everything worthwhile. So even though I may feel like I’m running a marathon through quicksand right now, I am reassured by the times that felt like swimming in the ocean on a sunny day, swinging on a swing set with my childhood friends, or riding on the freeway with the windows down and the music blasting. I have felt that bliss and I will feel it again. While writing it, this article suddenly became a message to my current self. Even with the overwhelming amount of change I’ve gone through in the past two years, I need much of the same advice—a fact which only makes me more confident that the circular motion of joy and struggle in life is one that I need not try to wrangle. Everything will come around over and over again, and each time it does, I’ll have another chance to learn these lessons. The overarching message I would give to my 18-year-old self is that something indescribably awe-inspiring is right around the corner at any moment and the best thing I can do for myself is to let the awe hit me, whether like a ton of bricks or like a wave of relief.  

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