Honestly, 16-year-old me would be both impressed and disappointed in my current self.
For example, he would be disappointed that I “threw away” a “nice relationship”, unbeknownst to him that the relationship would nearly ruin his life and connections to his friends and family, like he has never experienced before.
But he would be impressed as well - he would see, that his dream of “doing computer stuff” would proliferate, although he would ask himself why I own so much “junk parts”. And he would be impressed that his father finally trusted him for his expertise, regardless of age or relation.
At 34, I like myself and I think I’m a pretty cool person overall. 16 year old me couldn’t begin to comprehend what that’s like. My life is pretty good overall. But getting to that point… Geez. There’s a few times I’d like to grab my past self by the ear and be like, “Let’s go dumbass. We’re getting the fuck outta here.”
Probably both. Like a year or two later she’d have more or less moved past that. But also looking back with empathy for my past self it was a lie of self preservation not of cowardice. I think she really needed to hear that she was strong enough to bear the price of honesty.
She’d also be very confused as to why some lady came up to her, smacked her lovingly, held her tight, and told her to cherish mom, try theater, study more, apply to better schools, and choose Mechanical Engineering. The last thing teenagers want is yet another adult telling them the exact same things their parents tell them, but dammit they were right about that.
I was probably 14 when I tried to hang myself in my parents garage. I was struggling with severe depression, had undiagnosed ADHD, and grew up in a household where verbal and physical abuse where a daily thing.
My suicide attempt failed. I’ve never been great at tying knots and I couldn’t get the rope to hold my weight. I felt like more of a failure than ever. I couldn’t even kill myself successfully.
Twenty years later, I’m thankful that I failed. I’m sitting here on a quiet Sunday morning, drinking coffee and watching my son smile at me and play with his baby toys. He’s a bright spot in my life. All three of my kids are.
Life is fucking hard. There’s no sugar coating that. It’s harder for some people than others. But it can also be good. I’ve had to put up with a lot of the hard stuff, but I’ve also gotten to experience a lot of the good stuff. Way more than I ever imagined I would. I’ve also learned that I can do this and that I’m not alone. You can do this too and you’re not alone either.
I’m alive so me at 16 would be proud (maybe disappointed). Never wanted to make it to 30, and yet I’m going for 35 and starting to put the puzzle together.
16 year old me aspired to do three things: becoming a famous heavy metal star, getting high, and eventually marrying a nice woman who thinks I’m great. I’m now 42 and after much hard work and perseverance I can confidently say that I have successfully accomplished one of those goals 😎
16 year old me was pretty convinced I’d have my life together by 26 (loooool) and I’m 39 and definitely not together in many ways, so uh…no. But she also thought she’d be married and then have a couple of kids and be a history teacher, so she was wrong on most levels. It wasn’t even what I really wanted, it was just what I thought I was supposed to do. But hey, the severe anxiety and depression are managed a lot better and my eyebrows are miles better than they were then, so I got that going for me.
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