I’m 22 as I write. I have no children of my own yet. My parenting wisdom is therefore pretty much non-existent. I do however know that I will want to build a fortress around you. I will be proud of your accomplishments, but I know that there will always be a silent, crippling anxiety that the world will hurt you, and I know for certain that the world will. There’ll be times I won’t let you out. There’ll be times I’ll squeeze you so tight that you’ll tell me I’m the most embarrassing woman to ever walk the planet. (I’ll never let on that you are in fact correct). We’ll have our blazing rows and I’ll say silly, unreasonable things and possibly throw my shoes at you. I guess I just want us both to remember that I was once young like you. I was a human being long before you came into this world. And I have experienced the things you have. So here it is. Here’s a rambling of the truth so far, captured for you, waiting for you.
People are probably asking you what you want to ‘dooooo’ with your life. What are your plans for the future? Society will have instilled within you an anxiety about this. There’s every chance you’ve crapped yourself about it once or twice. You will feel that you need to know and that you need to know it right now and that your life will be one giant, sodding disaster if you don’t. Guess what? It won’t. It’s okay to be lost. It’s okay not to have a destination in mind. All I ask is that you stay true to your heart. If you want to ride tractors, ride tractors. (I want to ride tractors too. Get your wellies).
If you’re anything like me, you’re going to be one curious cat. You’ll have a hungry brain. Feed it with knowledge and experiences. Learn as much as you can about everything that you can. Books are tonic for the idle mind; immerse yourself in them. Appreciate creativity and literature and music and science and technology and religion and history and sports and people and places. Appreciate everything, even the lesson on ‘breeds of gulls’ which may well be told to you by a half-pissed, bearded man on a train. If you never speak of it again, at least you will know which birdie is most likely to steal your tuna sandwich.
Be lovely. Practice your manners. I fear that niceness is a dying art. Promote it. Never be that girl who laces her social media pages with quotes like, ‘I’m a bitch, take it or leave it muah.’ We’ll leave it, thanks. It’s not cool to be a bitch.
You probably spend evenings cursing yourself for things you’ve said or done that you feel you shouldn’t have. It is intrinsic to your existence as a human being to fuck up. So go ahead; fuck up. Permit yourself to make mistakes and those same mistakes will become lessons of value. You’ll laugh about them one day, I promise.
Look after your body, and remember, the most important thing about it is its health. Don’t put too much shit into it. Eat broccoli. It’s good for you. It also turns any plate into a dwelling of vegetably, foresty goodness. And never take up smoking. I have watched too many people in this family screw up their bodies through smoking. If you take it up, I will kill you before the cigarettes do.
Keep your dignity when your heart gets broken. I can absolutely promise you that those desperate, unsolicited drunken messages will not be worth your humiliation, especially if they involve your Betty Boops. I can also absolutely promise you that although you may feel like that one person has obliterated your one chance of insane, heart-shaped happiness, you will move on. If you can’t do it yourself, time will do it for you.
Always remember that human beings are awesome creatures. Even when they’re the worst person you’ve ever met and you’d rather sit on a cactus then see them again, human beings are perpetually fascinating. Remember that. Watch them. Talk to them. Mock them. Mock yourself. Treasure those who make you feel extraordinary: people who can turn you into a jolly, hysterical, urinating mess, people who get you right to the depths of your grubby, beautiful soul. Those people are what life is all about.
Do lots of cartwheels. The world looks funny upside down.
Finally, if I’m angry/weepy/being hideously grumpy for no apparent reason, make me marmite toast, give me a notebook, and Google me an amusing picture of a giraffe. Nine times out of ten it will work.
Lots of love,
Mum. (When I was never you, but more you than I am now).