it's brutal out here
a letter to my younger self
I spent the whole weekend scream-singing every song on Olivia Rodrigo’s new album SOUR. The first track “brutal” instantly transported me back to when I was a young teenager, when the tsunami of emotions felt almost unbearable.
Now that I am on the other side of it all, in my mid-twenties, I can see that everything I was thinking, feeling and experiencing was actually very typical. Teenage girls today are going through what I went through, and the teenage girls who came before me have done the very same.
I have found so much comfort in the internet’s response to the album. It’s cathartic to collectively acknowledge the heartbreak, sadness and exhausting search to find yourself that young womanhood brings.
Being a young person in the world is so hard. Your dreams feel so far away. Your hormones are raging. Your body is different every time you look in the mirror. You are tethered to the daily slog of high school drama. You’re making mistakes that seem catastrophic, and every success is a possible bullet point on your college applications. You’re analyzing every cryptic message your crush sends you. You’re nervously holding red solo cups, praying it looks like you’ve done this before. No one listens to you. People make decisions for you. The world is burning around you and you don’t even have the right to vote. You have responsibilities. You have family bullshit. You have a job and homework and sports and chores and you have to show up on time or you’ll get Saturday detention. You’re aching to be anywhere but where you are, and everyone is telling you this is as good as life will ever get.
It’s all so stressful, without the added pressure to look flawless and tiny. By the time I got my driver’s license (see what I did there?), I already had a vast collection of memories and beliefs stowed away that reaffirmed: my body needed fixing.
My hope is that by talking about and celebrating the teenage girlhood experience, we are making this generation feel a little less alone. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self that the problem was never with me or my body. The problem was always — and still is — our fatphobic and diet-obsessed culture.
When I was in residential treatment last year, we had to write a letter to our younger selves as part of a therapy exercise. I found the letter in my journal the other day, and it is still exactly what I needed to hear from myself. I am sharing it below, with all of you, in hopes that it will also soothe your inner teenager.
Dear Julie,
You’re going to grow up and do wonderful, exciting things. You’ll make wonderful, thoughtful friends. You’ll be successful. You’ll carve out your own path in life. I want you to know all of this so that you know it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to fuck up. To be lonely. To be struggling to find exactly who you are. All of that can happen and you’ll still end up where you are supposed to be. I want you to know that talking about what you’re feeling will help you feel better. Writing it down will help, too.
Life will be a lot easier if you make peace with your body now — if you don’t try to manipulate it. You’ll find people who love you no matter the size of your body. And you will always deserve that love. The right people will gravitate towards you when you are yourself. Don’t shy away from that. But also allow yourself to have some fun. Don’t be so hard on yourself.
Hug your mom. Hug your grandparents. Don’t let boys be mean to you. Take medicine for your anxiety, it will help. You are not being dramatic.
You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else. Your life will be so much bigger than this town and the person you are in this moment. You are so important and kind and cool and smart and funny and loud and so, so beautiful. Hang in there, and when hanging feels too exhausting, let others help hold you up.
Love,
Julie
a challenge for you
What would you say to your 13-year-old self? What do you wish they could know about who you are now? I’d love to hear what you want to tell them. Email me, DM me on Twitter, or write in the comments of this post.
what nourished me last week
what nourished my mind: This Elle profile feature of Kacey Musgraves. Obviously, I love her, and this line really resonated with me: “I felt, in many ways, on top of the world in my career, but in my personal life, I felt like I was dying inside. I was crumbling. I was sad. I felt lonely. I felt broken.”
what nourished my mind (pt. 2): This section of my newsletter might be turning into a Rainesford Stauffer fan page, but I don’t care. She wrote about something I’ve also been reflecting on lately: “How do we untether ourselves from the people we imagined we’d become?”
what nourished my mind (pt. 3): I am currently reading Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi. My friend Jeremy recommended it to me, and it is just gorgeous writing. It’s a fictional story, but Choi says it closely mirrors her own relationship with her body and food. (P.S. recommend me books! I am always looking for something good to read!)
what nourished my soul: Last week was my virtual launch party happy hour/cooking demo with my friend Tessa (@allthecheeseplz). It was so much fun making orange crushes and a whipped ricotta appetizer with so many of you. AND we raised over $200 for Martha’s Table. Incredible.
what nourished my soul (pt. 2): My friends and I threw a surprise graduation party for my best friend Jess, who graduated with her masters in social work. I am ridiculously proud of her, and so in awe of her commitment to making the world a more empathetic and equitable place.
what nourished my belly: I went to McDonald’s and got a sausage McGriddle and an iced coffee the morning after the graduation party. Sometimes you just need a greasy breakfast sandwich after a night of drinking. Reminder to both myself and all of you: that’s okay and normal and not worth a second thought!
what nourished my body: I took all of Saturday afternoon to rest and catch up on sleep. Rest is just as important as movement.
