In order for a big part of this part of this post to make any sense you have to know two things:
1. I am a bit of a hoarder- not like the people who live in a maze of boxes, but to the level that on any given day I can truly find something from 10 years ago that I had no idea existed.
2. I’ve always wanted to write a book. ALWAYS.
Today I was killing time in our unfinished basement/laundry/storage area because I KNEW the washer was almost done and I am far to tired to make a special trip down to put laundry in the dryer in five minutes. I discovered what was apparently one failed book attempt, an attempt from the Fall of 1999.
This particular book was apparently the one year diary of a 16 year old romantic and her lessons on love. I kept at it for a whole season pretty well, until I finally stopped. While the beginning entries were confusing to me, the last entry was still so wise, even to a 10 year older me.
The confusion was based on one small thing. I was telling a HUGE lie to myself. My first boyfriend, before the book was begun, had taught me not to trust anyone. So I spent years forcing guys I truly cared about away, so that I wouldn’t have to risk the lies they’d tell and the fact that I knew they’d break my heart. I was also forcing myself to not truly love the ones I loved.
I was, and still am, a hopeless romantic who truly thought that all romance should be whirlwinds that swept you off your feet. That guy you met in the local department store would track you down, and when you were of age, after years of wonderful dating, you’d be married. Yeah, I know, what a dreamer I was!!
And all of this comes into play in this “book” from 10 years ago. As I began reading I thought, oh, this must be from highschool (ie. pre-meeting my husband) but quickly I realized it wasn’t and the entries of “Oh I love so-n-so, but what about ….” had me puzzled. I loved my husband from the very first second I laid eyes on him. Truly. There was no other guy for me from that exact second. And I have always been well aware of that fact. But in this “book” it is clear that I was truly trying to convince myself otherwise! It’s all very confusing and simply the life of one screwed up teenager I suppose.
Reading one entry from 10 years ago that said “If only I could look 10 years into the future, would I have kids, a husband, true love?” cracked me up.
So here’s a quick letter to me, 10 years ago:
You are far to emotional and over think everything. You are looking for a type of love as though it doesn’t exist, when you KNOW it is there with you right now. In fact it is with you so often that I bet if you turn your head left or right his giant watermelon head is less then three feet away. You’ve known you loved him from the very start, the very first second. Admit it, to him and more importantly to yourself. The worst lies to be told are the lies you tell yourself.
Oh, and you marry that watermelon headed fellow, and so far have one kid who does unfortunately also have a watermelon head. And you got far far away from the hellhole of a small town you live in and despise.
Love, yourself in ten years
Also, I’d like to share with you the last entry from that “book,” the last entry from a 16 year old me.
“I have not written in awhile, instead of writing, of dreaming, I’ve been living. This “book” was supposed to be about one 16 year old’s look at love over a year, the lessons she had learned, the pain she’s taken, learning what love is during a rough stage of life. It didn’t take a year for me to learn my lesson. Sometimes your heart gives you an order, and you have to listen. You can’t think of color, distance, or heartbreak. You have to live before you die, and nothing can tell you how to live better then your own heart does. Live your love, and your life, day by day. And if something decides to leave your life, then hope it doesn’t wander long, and don’t ever be afraid to cry. Live.”