to my younger self:

Dear April,

There are so many things I’d like to tell you, but you’re far too consumed with rock shows, biking around town, and trying to juggle school, work, and a boyfriend (or two) to listen for very long. So, I’ll keep this simple.

The next 10 years are going to fly by. Right now you think by the time you reach 30 that you’ll be a big time attorney, married with a couple of kids. Oh my dear, you couldn’t be more far off. Hold onto your hat, because your 20’s are going to be bumpy.

To get this out of the way, first things first-

Just call mom. She’s freaking out and you don’t answer the apartment phone or your cell. You’re too far away, and all she needs to know is that you got home safe from the party you shouldn’t have been at to begin with. A small effort on your part will mean the world to her right now. Remember, you’re the baby. One day you’ll love that family title.

Now, more important things-

Try your hardest to be a woman of integrity. I know you’ve been shown that sometimes it’s easier just to tell a little white lie or two. That’s false. Telling the truth is always the best thing to do. It may not be easy at times, and initially, it might hurt someone. In the end, it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable for you and everyone else.

There are going to be a couple of hard moments where you’re at a crossroads, choosing to sacrifice your own potential for the assumed potential of love. Believe it or not, that dude is going to leave you. Not just once, but a couple of times. But you already know that. He doesn’t call you back when he says he will and that little gut reaction when you met his “friend” Natalie, yeah… take the hint. Respect yourself to know you’re worth more. And that your potential alone far exceeds your future together.

I just ask you to learning to listen to your instincts. Often times you deny that initial reaction for the security of choosing not to be alone. I’m telling you, push through it. It’s ok to be alone. You’ll be braver for it, and through the loneliness you will build so much character. That’s a good thing. And surviving those moments will prepare you for the hard times to come.

You are going to make some poor choices. Some very significant poor choices that will leave you wondering who you are and how you got there. April, listen to me: it is ok. Everyone does. Push through the embarrassment and ask for support when you need it the most. Take time to grieve, breathe, read, recreate yourself, and then MOVE. ON. Do not define yourself by the failures or wallow within them.

Please learn to be a better friend. I’m afraid you learn this lesson far too late. And all the friendships you could have salvaged by not being such a flake, remembering birthdays, showing up on time, showing your appreciation for them and simply remembering that it’s not all about you. Later on, you’ll realize that a true friend is worth more gold.

You are going to travel a lot in the years to come. More often than not, you'll be living a little irresponsibly, but having a hellva good time along the way. Soak it all up. Breathe it in. Look around. Take as many mental snapshots you can until you feel like you just head just can't contain any more. Step away from behind the camera. Those pictures are nice, but living in the moment is even nicer. These are some of the best moments of your life, and the memories you're making- you'll think of time and time again.

And April, most importantly, try not to take life so damn seriously. There are serious parts and not so serious parts. It's all about learning to tell the difference, and approaching those moments with an authentic and loving response.

All my love,

me

p.s. – cowboy boots aren’t so appropriate for weddings or funerals. no. really. they aren't.