A year ago today, I wrote a letter to myself to be read today.
The only reason I even remembered this is because of a Facebook memory that popped up. It was a blog post from last year called "The Power of 'Dear Future Self,'" and it inspired me to write a letter to my future self. My today self.
I just read the letter.
It was really, really, really depressing to me. I reverted it to draft. Maybe I'll share parts of it, sometime.
I remember now that it felt depressing even when I wrote it, although I did like something toward the end:
Honestly, you're only a year away. I will probably remember most of what's in this post in a year from now. You probably haven't changed all that much. You're still an Eight. You still sleep with your bed friends and cry at Christopher Robin. You still love underwear and the color green.
You're you. You're me. We'll always be...this. Just later.
There's something to that, I think. I wrote a post years ago on another blog called "There is No Brunette Superwoman," and it talks about how I never feel personally connected to Future Me. I always picture her and she's amazing—a Brunette Superwoman—but she's almost nothing like me. It doesn't click for me that I will always be ME. A switch is not going to turn off This Me and turn on Brunette Superwoman. I—me, Stephanie, this person here—am the only Me there will ever be, and if I—me, Stephanie, this person here—don't figure out how to BECOME Brunette Superwoman, she's never going to exist. She isn't going to come and possess me like a well-meaning demon and finish my life for me. It's just me. There's just me.
There's just you.
The 2020 Me who wrote 2021 Me a letter still didn't quite seem to get that. She thought a lot of me, especially during the first three-quarters of the letter. Her hopes for me make me feel guilty and defeated. At least towards the end of the letter, she started to come back to that No Brunette Superwoman realization.
How many times am I going to have to realize that? This time it felt like it hit home. For the first time, I think I'm starting to let go of Brunette Superwoman. Even though I realized the disconnect years ago, clearly as of 2020 I still hadn't "gotten it." Maybe I do now?
A couple of things in the letter were encouraging. I asked about the Fire Fairy Story, of course, and I feel good about where I am there. Twenty-twenty Me can be proud of that. I've done her right as far as the book goes.
Twenty-twenty Me asked if there had been any more weddings or engagements, and asked specifically about Kirsten and Matt, who are getting married in less than a month :) She said in all-caps, "CASSIDY AND STEPHEN, OBVIOUSLY." She asked about Matt, Victoria, and Anthony, who are doing well.
Overall the letter was just really sobering. I don't think I'm ready to write another letter to my future self. In fact, I wonder if I'm changing my whole philosophy on that. As I sit here, the tectonic plates of my mind are shifting, grinding, grating against each other. They're settling differently.
I think...I think I don't like the idea of writing letters to my future self anymore, at least not the way I've been doing it. When I was little, there were only fun questions to ask. I asked about the Fire Fairy Story and about boys and about the length of my hair. Now the questions are bigger and deeper.
Kids?
House?
Job?
Freedom in the United States?
I know the "right" answers to these questions now. Now, when I write questions to my future self, I subconsciously write the answer key too. If the answer isn't A in the future, it will just remind me of how much I wanted A.
At the same time, Present Me cannot really know the "right answers." Only God knows the right answers. His answers may be different from mine. They won't be wrong, but they may not match my answer key.
Planning for the future is fine, it's good. But I don't think I should be trying to write the future, now. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, you can never write the future; you can only write now.
Not only is there no Brunette Superwoman, there's not even a Future Me. There's only Now Me. Ever.
I don't know where I'm landing here, or how this will land with you. I guess I hope it inspires both of us to be who we want to be now, instead of hoping Future Us has somehow figured it out for us.
~Stephanie
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