If you could go back in time and give yourself advice what would you say? An open letter of advice to my eight year old self.
Dear Younger Self,
I know that you think you know oh so many things already. And you do. And no one can ever take that away from you. But, I want you to remember that girl who was eight-years-old that you were in such a hurry to grow up from. I want you to remember what brought her joy; what made her laugh; what she dreamt about. That girl who wanted to only smile and skip and make the world greater. That girl who didn’t get caught up in all the things that she was supposed to be or care about how liked she was. That girl who was unapologetic about being too much, too big, too small, too loud, too sensitive- she just kept skipping. I want you to carry a piece of her with you all of your days. Don’t lose her. You are her.
In your life dear one, you are going to fall. In love, in life, in work, in pain. You are going to come to the cusp of losing it all. Again and again. You will have it all together. And you will crumble. You will be a walking contradiction. You will learn the real meaning of giving and taking. You will feel what it is like to have people chip away at the very soul of you without you even realizing it. You will be rejected. You will lose money. You will lose friends. You will think that you know people that you never really did. You will learn what it feels like to not be able to lift your head above the surface. You will grieve. Your voice will shake. Your eyes will look down for too long. You will disappoint yourself and the people you love. You will question everything. You will be physically and emotionally exhausted. You will find more tears within you than ever thought you would be capable of. You will know what it will feel like to be afraid at your core. You will know what it will feel like to both listen to and betray your own instincts. You will fail.
But here is the good news: it will all be okay. You will rise. Again and again. You will put on the heels and the lipstick and fake it until you own it. You will have people that will hold your hands and not want to leave your kitchen. Your friends will be your soulmates. You will know what it feels like to hold the weight of your own baby against your chest. You will watch your babies grow overnight. You will be the carrier of treasures and secrets and unwavering hope for your children. You will watch them take on fields and classrooms and stages and skip with wild abandon. You will see the most glorious work of your life through their eyes. You will know what it feels like to be chosen. You will chose them. You will chose you. You will find peace. You will let go. You will grow. You will find your fire. You will know resilience. You will know strength. You will fall back in love with the sound of your own laughter. You will be more courageous than you ever thought that you were capable of. You will live your life on your terms. You will be enough. Just as you are.
All will be okay.
You will love your life.
All of it (even 2016).
Promise.
Love you. Always.
xo, me/you
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Katie Yackley Moore is a freelance writer, yoga instructor and a momma of four navigating life and a separation and finding herself in the process. She adores coffee shops, laughing until it hurts and impromptu dance parties. Her work has appeared on Scary Mommy, Mamalode and HuffPost Parents. She has published a journal entitled “Dream a Bigger Dream” and the children’s books “You Are a Warrior” and “We are Family” and just finished her first novel. Catch up with her between tea breaks at The Naked Momma and on Facebook.
