A letter to me at 30
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- January 15, 2018
- 1447
Dear Missy,
I know that 30 seems old, but trust me, it’s not.
Right now your life seems like a never-ending cycle of “Rugrats” and “Barney,” spilled milk on the floor, and sloppy hugs that end in wet kisses. Your shirts have a delicious mystery of stains that never quite come out, and you’ve forgotten a bit of yourself. I get that.
Having an 8-, 3- and 2-year-old can do that. But time is forgiving, and it restores the chunk you gave up of yourself to bring three wildings into a sometimes-broken world.
Cherish the sleepy tantrums and the mornings where three tiny sets of feet crawl into bed with you. It won’t be long until your house is so deathly silent in the mornings, coffee never growing cold because you have time to drink it, that you wonder if that time was a dream.
Finding yourself in books is still the answer. Never stop reading. The internet hasn’t yet reached you, though it won’t be long until it does. I long now for the days when I could read and read and read, never being tempted by a small glowing screen that is the end all and be all of information.
Books, words: That’s where it’s at. You’ll wish for the newest technology, see those strange .com addresses being added to all the TV commercials, wishing you could buy that desktop computer that everyone else is slowly getting, but slow down.
The rest of your life will be filled with bytes and gigs, emails and writing deadlines, posts and snaps. Keep reading because it’s a constant enriching, a waterfall that quenches you.
Love your body. I mean it. We live in a shallow world that places value on the exterior immediate beauty of someone’s face and shape. It’s a trap. Stop reading magazines that tell you how to be the best wife and lover and look yourself in the eye and know that it’s already true.
You have a man who loves you and who is human and full of faults. All the fears you let yourself feel never materialize, and it’s wasted energy you let yourself dwell on. Cut off the negative thought process and know that you’re worthy.
That confidence is beauty, spoken words full of thoughtful truth are a light and you deserve what you’ve been given. Stop swallowing what the world tells you and receive the grace of who you are.
Your future is bright, so hang on. All the struggling with new businesses, the time put in to making them happen despite huge odds, the long hours and despair — success happens not overnight, but with tiny moments of days and weeks and months and years. It comes, and it’s sweet.
You worry now, about making it as a self-employed family, but your husband is tenacious. He’s got this. One day he’ll look at you and say, “We made it, babe, didn’t we?”
And you? What your future holds is immense and wonderful. That writing and poetry you laid down so long ago? You won’t believe what awaits you, all those words and the churning of your brain you thought was lost to you amidst the dirt and glory of small children.
All the times you thought you’d never feel self-assured and fearless again — you do. Lay down the book for a bit. Take your kids outside and let them run gloriously through the rain. Watch them get dirty and relish it.
Kiss your husband hard and hold his hand even tighter because he’ll be your champion forever. Know that you’ll arise out of the uncertainty you feel, that one day your kitchen will be clean, that you’ll miss your children with a fierceness but will offer them every encouragement to go out and do lush and wild things, and that you’ll sit at a place of your own making, stringing words into cohesive sentences that people will want to read.
Hang on, mama, it will all be worth it.
Love, Me