Dear Self,
You are enough. You have always been enough. The space you require is not too much, and if you haven’t heard, the universe is infinite. You like plants, and people, and your children, and books. This is all good. You have been shaped somewhat by your culture and your surroundings, but you also arrived on this planet not as raw material but as yourself.* Are you tired? Take a nap. Are you happy? Tell someone. Are you sad? Cry. Your people need you—not a tired, buttoned-up, stomped-on version of yourself, but an open and rested and cared-for being. You need you.
There may never be a time when you have everything sorted out. Your stack of books will probably continue to migrate between the nightstand and the windowsill. You will probably always have a few plants still in their plastic pots. There may always be a wall in your home that needs artwork and unless future you hires a cleaning service (I hope she does) there will probably always be dust bunnies in the corners. These things aren’t sign that you just haven’t figured life out. These things are just indicators that life goes on without stopping for anything or anyone.
Don’t make a grand plan for your life. Just live. You don’t need to be dared into living a big story or guilted into making a difference. Your presence here is enough. You are the gift. Be gentle with yourself.
With love,
An increasingly compassionate version of yourself
P.S. It’s ok to be small.
*Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak.