Letter to Self — Notes
Notes to my 17-year-old self:
This letter is not about me—although I am scintillatingly wonderful, of course—and it is not about the future, despite the fact that there is so much I am busting to tell. At least, it isn’t about these things in any direct sense.
You see: I know you. I know you do not want to know what you will be like at age 54. You most certainly do not want to know what happens to you in the future. Not now, especially, when you have so many options (and when you dare not contemplate them). I recognize that you have no concept of the future, who or what you might become, how you might think or act. In many respects, you do not care about it at all. It seems more than a little boring. I understand. I will therefore not disclose anything about me, or the future. All I will say is that your life is better, more fulfilling and more exciting than anything you could imagine.
To turn to what interests you—the present and your place. I can help: 37 years of living with you has taught me a lot. Let me share some of my thoughts so far.
First, this making mistakes business. Well, yes, you make mistakes. It is in your nature. Your life is bound up in a confident bubble, and you are committed to experiencing it. That means you are going to make mistakes; you need to make them to figure things out. You attack your life drawings by starting with lines you know are wrong; you keep pouring them onto the paper, and gradually improving the form and shape until you have the line you need. The process is a little messy, but you are moving ahead, you get stuck in and achieve a result that is so satisfying and exciting, you want to eat it up. Your style in life is the same. Not for you standing back, figuring things out and jumping in with the answer. You involve yourself in the process of life, you do what you think is right at the time, and if it proves to be wrong, you keep improving and redoing it until it works. I know you hate to make mistakes, and sometimes people are a little less forgiving than you would want. But what you end up with is dynamic, exciting and fulfilling—so satisfying you want to eat it up. Mistakes are part of the process.
I will allow you a bit of “to know me is to love me.” There is a lot of satisfaction in knowing that you cannot change the deepest aspects of your psyche. What makes you act the way you do has the power both to make you cringe in embarrassment and also to soar to achievement and success. Fortunately, the way you are is not so bad for you. You can trust the way you are. You are going to take risks, but you are never going to do anything truly self-destructive or wrong. When push comes to shove, you will react generously and lovingly, because that is your nature. You can be confident in it. Accept it, and allow it to happen.
However, I am not saying you should ever be satisfied. You can do better. You know it. You have to keep learning, keep improving. Every day, you need to absorb as much as you can. You will go on making mistakes, but you should not make the same mistakes twice. If you do, you are not paying attention. Mistakes are there to be understood, appreciated for what made you do them and why, and stored away to ensure you will not do them again. This is where other people come in. They will teach you what you need. Listening to and learning from other people will open you up to new ways of thinking and of doing things, new techniques, new approaches –a word here, a reaction there, silence when you would have spoken, a kind or wise word when you would have been mean or sulked or responded in anger, using humour, laughter, rising above pettiness or revenge. Look outward, and absorb as many of the good things from those around you as you can see. To a large extent, this means letting go, forgetting how you look and sound, and digging in.
I know what you are thinking here. Not everyone is my mother. Not everyone—by a long chalk—is going to think I am absolutely wonderful. Not everyone knows you or cares to get to know you. Listen to and learn from them, too. They are right that you are not the centre of attention, that the sun does not shine out of your ears, that you should not assume that you can always charm your way out of anything if they only knew you better. You won’t be able to forget about them; you will have to figure out how to give to them and forget your needs, because otherwise, they will drive you down. And they won’t even be aware that they are doing it. The more you secretly demand something in return from them—and the more minor the demand—the more their failure to offer it to you will make you feel worthless. The only way around this is to give to them, not to demand anything in return. You will not be noticed, perhaps, but you will feel great—believe me—and you will move on.
So much for the internal spiritual comforts and rewards of life. What of those achievements that are more [ahem] objectively measurable? I think you already know what you need to know. All that is worth accomplishing in life, and all those accomplishments that give you such profound satisfaction and fulfillment, can only be achieved through effort and, yes, a little sacrifice. That’s definitely the bad news. The good news is that the effort and sacrifice really isn’t that strenuous. You just have to set aside the time. You can do it. Given the opportunity to do it wrong the first time—there I go again—you will achieve it and do it better than you ever thought imaginable. All you have to do is look at the finished product and say to yourself: I can do this over, better than this, even though as I sit here, I have no clue how I am going to do it. And then spend the time and effort and get it done. All it takes is confidence. And you have that. Stick with it. It will get you where you need to go, and far further than you ever imagined.
A wise man once told me that as you grow older, you become more like yourself. I agree. All that I am, I owe to you and to the way you are there. I am just more like you now than I ever was—and it is really great. So, I offer one last thought, because you deserve it: As I sit here, off the top of my head, I can think of 75 absolutely amazing, awesome, magical moments, times and days in my life. I leave you with one thought: All of these 75 experiences have yet to happen to you.
Name: Matthew Vafidis
High School: Norton Knatchbull School, Ashford, Kent, UK
College: St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge
Now: Lawyer (Partner, Holland & Knight)
This letter was written as part of the Better Grads special series: “Write a Letter to Your High School Self.” Contributors are asked to answer questions or concerns they may have had in high school, such as “What’s the purpose of college?” and “Is it worth it?”
