You have a cold today, a sore throat, the sniffles and I know that you hate that pimple that keeps threatening to take over your forehead but sweetheart, no one can see it but you. Dab on a little concealer and away you go. I know you don’t want to publish this post because it feels self-indulgent but come on now, you need this. Let’s forget what everyone else thinks and just keep typing.

I think it’s funny to watch your mind work sometimes. You went to the dentist yesterday and stared at the x-rays of all your little teeth and you crossed your fingers like a little girl, praying for no cavities. Not because you hate the drill or the novacaine but because more than anything, you like a perfect score. A+. And you take it so personally when you fail. Even the Dental Hygiene Test. Oh dude, you gotta let that shit go.

When you were a little girl, you dreamed that by age 27.5, you would be married to a lovely young man. Someone tall, like your dad. And you’d have lots of babies, at least two before age 30. You dreamed of being a teacher sometimes though I think you dreamed less of actually teaching and more about color coding your lesson plans with those glitter crayons you used to like so much. I believe your exact dream at the age of 8 or so was “Glitter crayons & play with my babies”. Not a bad life, chick. But not exactly the one you’ve got.

When you were 22, you sat in waiting rooms full of girls at $200/week dinner theatre auditions, waiting all day to sing 16 bars of a song that no one paid attention to. You listened to the other girls talk, listened to how old they were, 27…28…29. Dear God! you thought. You will never be 27 or 28 or 29 still sitting in that audition room, no career in sight. Living with ROOMMATES. How incredibly lame! By your late 20′s, you will have some modicum of success! You will be financially secure! You will have MADE IT!

Oh my. How funny it is to be 22, yeah?

That’s okay, though.

That’s how you’re supposed to be at 22.

You look around at 22 year olds now and you smile and you remember and you realize that you are now that Old Person still auditioning and not really getting where you want to get and you live with roommates and it doesn’t seem pathetic at all. It seems wonderful because they are your family and your apartment feels like home.

There are many ways to live a life, you know. There are those people who marry young and who have stable, responsible jobs. There is nothing wrong with these people so don’t make it about which choice is better. At the same time, I know that you are often painfully aware that these people that clock in at 9 am with their coffees and clock out at 5 with their briefcases are considered normal. Dear sweet Laura, no one is really normal. And comparing gets you nowhere. Let it go, darling. You are fine.

Your world is not the world you pictured when you were younger. You have no husband and no babies and no house on a cul-de-sac with a front porch and a pool in the backyard. You’ve startled yourself by growing into a person who wants different things, who prioritizes in a way you didn’t expect, who continually surprises even herself by her thirst for knowledge and her push to grow and how she insists on filling up her world with goodness and riches and beauty.

Just yesterday, while walking in SoHo, you noticed bunches of autumn leaves on the sidewalk and without much thought, you skipped through them, kicking them up into the air, just to watch them fly. An old man sitting on a stoop caught you and smiled. You laughed together. Every day is full of opportunities to connect. Don’t forget.

You no longer think love holds the answers nor do you depend on it for happiness. You’d rather be alone than with someone who makes you miserable. You understand that people make promises and leave anyway, that you are replaceable, that there are no guarantees. And while that might seem terribly negative and depressing, you instead find it liberating. You recognize that it also means you are free to love who you love, even if it winds up being a mistake. You throw yourself into it and even though you often walk away battered and bruised, you take something away from it. 

You no longer look for perfection. You know it doesn’t exist. You are on the lookout for men who make you laugh, for men who make you think, for gentle souls. You are wary of anyone who tries to control you, who puts you on a pedestal, who doesn’t let you be yourself. And whether it ends well or doesn’t, you accept that every man and every experience contains a valuable lesson. Also, a guy who owns four cats is a dealbreaker. It’s just too many cats.

I appreciate your openness to new things and your way of tackling things precisely because they frighten you. I appreciate the way you’re working on relinquishing your need for control. I like the way you do a silly dance when you’re excited to see someone. I think your ability to French braid your own hair is impressive.

You’ve had a rough couple weeks, kid. There have been people mistreating you, pushing boundaries and acting inappropriately. Men in positions of power who think they can talk to you however they like. Who think, because you are a young attractive woman, that you should be made to feel small and insecure so that they can feel big and masculine. I am so proud of you for standing up for yourself this week. You have shocked me with your grace and calm ability to handle those situations. And yes, I am sorry those situations existed in the first place. And that it happened more than once.

You cannot control others. Only yourself. And as scary as it was, you did the right thing. You are learning to be powerful and learning what you will and won’t put up with. That is a very important lesson and one that will serve you in the future. Don’t gloss over it and pretend it was no big deal: it was. And you rocked.

Laura, icky situations aside, most of all, I want you to know that it’s alright. Your life as you know it is as exactly as it should be. You are not a wife or a mother or a homeowner. You don’t have a lot in your savings account and my God, you live in freaking Queens.

But, you, my dear, are rich. Rich in the things that matter the most. Your family, your friends, your mischievous way of kicking up leaves, your glee at turning up the music loud and having a dance party in the living room. You bake kick ass cookies and you can scrub a bathtub until it sparkles. You like Prosecco and you can hold plank pose for 60 seconds. Best of all, you love to laugh and you indulge this love every day, over and over again.

You are not behind.

You are not lost.

Nor are you ever truly alone.

You are an explorer.

A discoverer.

Every day you grow.

Every day you stand up straight.

You move forward in the way that only you can.

So just, keep doing it. Stop worrying about where you’ll end up and where others are ending up and know that as those around you pair off and move away or give up and settle down, they are entitled to their own happiness. And you are entitled to yours.

Keep dancing, lady.

Nobody twirls quite like you do.

Love,
Yourself