Hey, it's me, the 2017 version of you. You're technically an adult now, and that's pretty terrifying, so appreciate your lack of responsibilites and financial obligations while you can. The point of this letter is basically to tell you everything that I know you needed to hear growing up, that I know would've made your life easier having known, and that it definitely gets better. So listen up, and take some notes, because I'm starting at the beginning.
I know you have this whole "tomboy" phase going on, and that's totally okay. You like playing in the dirt outside, you've began to reject dresses and pink things. I know you're going to want to quit absolutely every sport even remotely "girly"—ballet, cheerleading, gymnastics—but do me a favor: don't. You're going to regret it in high school when you want to join the cheerleading team but don't have the guts or experience and are terrified of getting cut. You're going to watch dance videos online and just be so jealous that you can't move that way. You're going to do Greek Jam in college when you haven't danced since the age you were now and cry at tryouts because you're embarrassed. Spare yourself that and stick with the "girly" things you're wanting to abandon, because the tomboy phase will come to an end sooner than you think.
It's called depression. You have it. You're not defective, you're not broken, you're not a problem, you're not a failure. Those thoughts are going to go through your head, but just know they're not true. You'll figure this out when you reach Junior High, because boys are stupid and girls are mean. They told you you were fat, and you believed them. Your heart shattered, and mine still does when I reflect back. It got into your head, and it honestly all went downhill from that moment on. You're going to want to stop eating. You're going to want to cry, a lot. Fight it as best as you can. Don't develop bad eating habits that cause you to go down two jean sizes in a summer. Don't let it ruin you, because it will if you let it. If I could go back in time and tell you that your thoughts are the way they are as a result of a mental illness you hadn't realized you had, I would. If I could go back in time and do what I can to not let it ruin you, I would. But unfortunately, it's too late for me, so save yourself.
It's totally okay to not be good at math. Quit comparing yourself to your friends and their grades, because every person is good at different things and that's perfectly fine and normal. So what if you're not good at that one thing? You're good at so many others. Don't let the weight of that one ruin the feeling of success you get from the others. You've always been told you were so incredibly smart, and the weight of this one failure feels insurmountable to you, but you can always retake a class. Save the emotional breakdowns for something that matters significantly more than algebra.
Your first heartbreak will wreck you. You're going to cry over the phone, beg him to stay, and that's okay because that's how you feel in the moment and you can't deny those feelings. But you should never have to beg a man to be with you. You shouldn't have to try to force him to see what he originally saw in you once more, because he should have never lost sight of it. It was your first "real" relationship, but it's not your last. It will get better—so much better. You will fall in love with someone who became everything you ever wanted. So, cry over your first love, but just know it won't be your last.
I wish nothing more than for you to be able to read these things, because I know, looking back, how much hurt and trouble they would save you. I have so much more to say, but we'll save the rest of that for another time. Keep your head held high, stay strong, and just know that you're still here and kicking, and I've never been more proud.