Member-only story
Hello, 18-year old me? Can You Hear Me Now?
What would I tell my almost 18-year-old self if I could talk to her?
In February, I turned 38.
If you know me, you know my goal age from kindergarten has been 44. I have had a lot of reasons for this being a goal age, including believing I would be old enough to be secure, confident, and settled while being young enough to still be fun and adventurous. When I was 8 years old, I also thought 44 would be the perfect age to run for president. As I type this, I do not even know if having a ‘goal age’ is a common thing — I hope you’ll let me know!
In any case, this isn’t actually about being 38 or 44. Writing this is about being 18. Or rather, looking back at that very specific time in my life — which was 20 years ago…
At 18, I truly thought I knew it all, and I was CERTAIN that my life was going to play out according to the well-thought-out plan I had made. Let me tell you, that plan and my commitment to it at the time is laughable!
Had things gone according to my plan, chances are good that I would be an investigative journalist or a politician, I would definitely NOT have kids or a partner, and I would not have a community of amazing women in my life. At the time, I thought I would find happiness in being alone, fighting…
