A letter On your 30th Birthday

Dear FutureMe, You have spent the past few months working REALLY HARD to turn into your actual self. That sentence doesn't make sense to people who haven't done the kind of work we've done, but that doesn't matter. What matters is you're doing the work right now, and you have to continue to do the work for the rest of your life. There's no magic milestone you're you're going to reach and finally be a worthy adult that is accepted by everyone and loved by all. You're already an adult. More importantly, you're already worthy. You are always worthy. Even when you're puking up that beer that pushed you over the edge. Even when your face is sporting a vandyke. Even when you fuck up he church notes for five years without telling anyone. Even when you get fake maple syrup on Sarah's fake shearling blanket. You're always worthy. You're always enough, full stop, end of sentence. What I want you know know is this: your mother loved you. Your family loves you. Your father loves you more than you even know. Your friends love you. You are loved. I love you, and I don't even know you yet. Even if people sometimes love you in the wrong way, if they don't help you when you ask or they set boundaries that feel like they hurt you, you're still loved. God loves you. Here's what I hope for you: 1. I hope you've overhauled your diet and started eating like a ton of carrots. But I also hope you allow for some junk food, in moderation. 2. I hope you've figured out this hormone thing. It may take more visits to the doctor, but the hirsutism especially has damaged your self esteem quite a bit. It's worth trying to fix. 3. I hope you're dating. Maybe you're not in a serious relationship right now, or you're going through a break-up (oh honey I am so so sorry, really), but you're putting yourself out there and you're going for it. You're trusting both yourself and others. You're having fun. 4. I hope you actually do all that creative stuff you talk about — your zine, your podcast, stand-up comedy. Don't rely on someone else to get you started. I don't even care if it's good, I just want you to do it, because it will help you become yourself and that's what living is — it's the constant process of becoming yourself. Shit, get those tattoos you've been talking about. Pierce something other than your ears. 5. You have a plan for work and school and improving your credit score. Most of the things you're interested doing require further education, so it just is what it is. But you have something to say and you have valuable contributions to make, and if it's school that it takes for you to make them, then that's what you have to do. Just don't put too much pressure on yourself. 6. You're driving. Maybe you have your license, maybe you don't, but you drive. You're not afraid of it anymore. 7. You've read and actually implemented the things you've read in all those self-help and creativity books you've been buying. Otherwise, what a waste! 8. You change some of your living habits and stop putting up with a house that is basically a gigantic knot of yarn. Get rid of things. Keep what matters. Make your space livable. 9. Enjoy being 30. It doesn't mean anything, it's just a number, but it obviously has significance to you because I'm the one having panic attacks about it. But look: have a party. Trust that people will show up. Invite people on Facebook and call the ones you really want to be there in person. Plan it out — have it in august. Don't let it pass you by because you're afraid that no one will show up. No one will really show up if you never invite them. Also I hope you got at least one good present, even if you bought it for yourself. 10. I hope you're happy. Not the fairytale kind of happy where nothing is ever wrong, but the kind where you don't have to block the world out to keep functioning. The kind where you feel loved and heard and seen for exactly who you are. The kind where you feel the full range of emotions, but keep control of the bus. The kind where the future feels more exciting than it does bleak. If it takes therapy and medication and yoga and meditation and amulets and yaks blood and tallow candles and incantations from languages that died long before humanity was borne from the void — whatever. I hope you're happy. Because you deserve it. Well, Happy Birthday girlie, and I hope it's a good one. I know you'll be at camp when you get this, so say hay to everybody. Remember that people respond better to your authentic self, not the self that you think they want to see. Be yourself and all will be good. Love, PastMe