Dear 34 year old me

One of the things I would never have expected, would be me looking at this photo of me yesterday, taken four years ago to the day, and feel the overwhelming love and grace for my thirty-four year old self that I did. While I meant to write this yesterday, in true belated fashion, I’m writing it today. So, here it is, my letter to my thirty-four year old self. 

First, I have to just say, damn. You spent so much time worrying about your body; I wish you could see you the way that I do now. You are going to look back and you’re going to realize this was the best you probably ever looked, and even so, you’re learning to love you, ALL of you, in each year of life, especially as you realize just how much this beautiful, strong body has allowed you to do over the years. When I look at you, at this smile, I remember the reason for it, the person who made you smile like that…and while it still smarts, this person who couldn’t give you what you thought you wanted/needed…who couldn’t say the three words back to you that you found the courage to first say to him…oh babe, I wish you could see what I do now. Your big, beautiful heart was broken, so many times, but you found the courage to let him go (finally), and, in hindsight, we can finally see just how beautiful it still was, all of those moments—all of those highs, even when it meant there would be lows. You loved. Your big heart fell in love, and that’s so fucking beautiful. I know it’s been hard, opening yourself up, time and time again. Waiting, always waiting…to feel this way again. I just want you to know that I love your fire, your heart, and your ability to never let it allow you to not still hope that, one day, it would be different. If I could tell you one thing that I wish I knew then, that I am finally starting to appreciate now, it is this: life is here, in this moment. It is this moment, and this moment, and this moment. It’s not dwelling in the past, or stressing about the future, but it’s happening, right here, right now. 

…I wish you could see what I do now. Your big, beautiful heart was broken, so many times, but you found the courage to let him go (finally), and, in hindsight, we can finally see just how beautiful it still was, all of those moments—all of those highs, even when it meant there would be lows. You loved. Your big heart fell in love, and that’s so fucking beautiful.

And while you had already gotten a lot better about living in the moment, you still tried to hold it in a death grip, because you couldn’t stand the thought it would all be lost if you didn’t somehow have some way to control it. I know you know this, but you don’t have control. Of any of it. And even here and now, I’m still grappling with this. With not holding on too tight. To accept that I do not have control. But I can still be here. Fully here. You will not see what’s coming for you, these next four years, and I can’t promise it will get any easier, as this year has already shown me that. But I can promise you this: you ARE strong enough. Everything you did, it has led us here, and I’m so incredibly proud of everything you/we have done. Because you are amazing. You are the strongest, most resilient person I have known. I don’t know what the next four years will bring, but I see you, and I see me, today, and I just know that we can face whatever this life has in store for us next. Even here, I am so fucking hopeful. I smile with the hope for what is to come.