Note to Younger Self

This is my friend, Susan, in 1986. Isn't she adorable? She recently posted this picture on facebook as part of a joke about big hair. I left this comment:

Oh girl, you are rockin' that hair...a true 80s diva!

She commented back:

Haha! That just goes to show that pictures can mean whatever we want them to 25 years after the fact. The truth is that I was an insecure 17-year-old who thought that I wasn't cool enough, thin enough or smart enough. I wish I could go meet that girl and tell her that she was really all three.

Susan is a really dear friend. She is also ridiculously impressive.

She is married with two kids. By the age of 26, she had completed a PhD in Neuroscience from Emory.

A full-time professor, she's been her daughter's Girl Scout troop leader and the student government faculty advisor where she teaches. Two years ago she was voted "Professor of the Year."

She spends time throughout the summer with her best and brightest students in the lab...just because she wants to help them get into good graduate schools.

She's also finishing up a Master's Degree in Bioethics. {Because clearly, she needs to bolster those credentials.}

I've often told Susan that she has better time-management skills than any person on the planet.

As if that's not enough, she is witty and creative and multi-talented. She cares for others and personifies devotion. I love Susan because, well, I just love Susan...and she has been a precious friend to me over the last 9 years.

When I read her comment, I was immediately struck by how someone like Susan ever thought she was anything "less than." And then I was immediately struck by how I thought so many of the same things at that age. You probably did too.

Now I am not as accomplished as Susan, but I still never came close to measuring up to my own standards. At 17, I did not consider myself noteworthy. I longed to be someone impressive but felt forever relegated to the land of mediocrity.

Looking back, I would have told my younger self that there's so much more than popularity, beauty, athleticism or having the highest GPA.

Yet here I am, at 38, and I still struggle from time to time. There will forever be those who are more "popular" and likable, those who are lovelier {and have less gray hair,} those who run further and faster or complete triathlons, those who are smarter or better writers or more accomplished as mothers and "domestic engineers."

In a way, do we girls ever really graduate? Do we ever "measure up" in our own eyes?

There is, however, one thing that distinguishes me now from my teenage self {besides stretch marks.} I may not totally know who I am, but I'm finally learning who I'm not. It's something I'm learning to embrace actually. I can admire others' talents, gifts and attributes without wishing they were mine.

Please tell me that's a sign of grace and maturity. Please. Because the process of acceptance has been painfully slow and hard-fought.

But I can say that there is finally less striving, not as much wishing, and a whole lot more accepting.

My friend, Katie, and I were sitting in my driveway a few days ago discussing this very issue. She figured out who she wasn't long before I figured that out for myself. I envy that. She also told me that one of her favorite quotes is from the great philosopher, Dolly Parton:

Find out who you are and do it on purpose.

Don't you love that?

So in light of Dolly's wise words and Susan's wishes for her younger self, here's a note to my younger self:

Love your skin. And your body. And your hair. Because it all sags and stretches, grays and thins faster than you can say "Botox." It really is what's on the inside that counts. Sunbathing on the trampoline in Crisco is a bad idea. You can thank me later. Most importantly, quit wishing you are someone you're not. Get to know yourself and embrace the God-given uniqueness that is you. I could tell you more but you're 17 so this will probably go right in one ear and out the other.

P.S. : Your parents are smart and usually right after all...especially the part about nothing good ever happening after midnight.

P.S.S : Forty will be here sooner than you think and it's not as old as it sounds.

Love, Me