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Letter To My Younger Self, Or, An Ode To My 40th Decade

Your first decade is about packing baggage. Hard-earned lessons about:
who and who not to trust
how to get your needs met
how you’ll pacify your heart when it’s breaking in two
and most importantly:
you’ll set your meter for self-love.

You’ll spend the rest of your life unpacking, purging, repacking, and replacing all those things as you find your footing in this existence.

Your 20’s will teach you that no man, job, house, car, vacation, article of clothing, or experience will fulfill you unless you fill yourself first.

That lesson will slowly permeate your DNA and spill over and into the next decade until it becomes visceral one evening while you’re painting in the middle of your living room by candlelight. Feeling more like yourself than you ever have. Because you finally gave yourself the permission to
let
go.

Your 30’s will teach you that life is fleeting and all that “life is too short” rhetoric is actually a legit thing. But you’ll embody it by witnessing death in various forms, rather than reading it screaming on a coffee mug, in a playful script font, at your favourite bookstore.

And you’ll never look at the world the same way again. 

You’ll walk into your 40’s loving yourself in ways you didn’t think possible, loving others – those who deserve it – wholly and not giving a fuck about the rest. 

And it’ll feel good.   

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