Today your mother reached her six month remission mark.
I guess for some that's a victory,
but for me I just think, "That's six months less than I had before."
To be truthful, I'm anxious about the wisdom of my choices.
I don't know if you would be proud of me
for what I've done these past six months.
I've passed the NCLEX
I'm working now.
Trying to carve out a moment here and there for myself.
Trying to find someone--a good someone, an honorable someone
with whom to make you.
I'm not making much headway in that department, for many reasons,
the foremost of which is, I'm not sure it would be fair to make you
if I have to leave you so soon.
The second is, I'm a wimp.
Being vulnerable is hard.
So instead most of my days are spent working,
spending my life force
keeping others alive.
It's more than a little ironic, I know.
And every day I come home exhausted and beat up,
and I know that I've already gotten sucked into purely surviving.
I guess that's what this will always be. Surviving.
We've made it an ugly word in this culture--
turned our noses up as if surviving wasn't worth surviving for--
As if living were somehow different.
But that's what it's always been about--
surviving long enough to have you
to make you, to teach you, to help you for as long as I can.
And that's why I'm writing this--
just in case you are born--
if I die before you can understand the things I need to
instill inside of you
the principles and beliefs you will need
to survive.
It hasn't been what I hope it would be.
I haven't changed the world.
I tried.
I'm still trying--
trying to live responsibly, to live ethically, to live gracefully.
I thought I would have more time to have a bigger impact
that I would have more time
to climb, to get the degrees
to position myself in circles where my voice
could bring about change for the betterment of society.
I thought I would have more time.
That's the first thing I want to teach you: There isn't enough time.
So play. Play hard. Daydream intently.
Sing with all your might.
Dance everywhere, all the time.
Sleep well. Nap while you can.
The time will soon come where sleep will elude you.
Where you'll feel your mind burning,
aching for a break
and you won't have the luxury of stopping.
No one told me, when I was a child,
that I thought I had more time than I actually did.
You don't have as much time as you think you do, my darling.
I'm sorry to tell you that truth so young,
but I think it's a truth that you need to know so you can
execute your plans.
The second thing is: Surviving is a contradiction.
There will be people who tell you to follow your dreams no matter what.
And other will tell you that dreams are impractical and you need a job.
Both sides will make you feel guilty--fuck 'em.
This life is a Gordian knot.
Adults spend their entire lives trying to tell kids
"Ignore the nay-sayers and follow your dreams!"
only to have reality crush them with the necessity of paying bills.
There will be times when you feel like your life is a series of dead ends
and Penrose triangles.
There will be times when the uncertainty is paralyzing.
Breathe. You'll get through the transition.
You have to.
Do what you must.
There is no shame in being realistic.
It doesn't mean you've failed.
The third is: It doesn't get easier.
Accept that you will always be doing at least two things at a time.
In this world, you have to climb
and you have to fight at the same time.
You have to work to support yourself in the morning
and you have to keep learning and bettering yourself in the evening.
For the lucky few those two actions are synonymous.
For most people, they aren't.
Don't feel like you've failed if you're not lucky.
Sometimes this life won't give you the option of climbing up.
Move laterally.
Go down to go up.
Be like water.
Flow where there are openings.
Don't stagnate.
The fourth is: You are not entitled.
Don't hinge your dreams on the idea that
you're a temporarily inconvenienced,
soon-to-be millionaire.
Disabuse yourself of the idea that knowing the right people will open doors.
As the daughter of an immigrant with no connections
my experience is: you meet the right people by opening your own doors.
You make friends by holding it open for others.
If you wait for someone to open the door for you
you'll be stuck in one place for a long time.
Work hard, clean up after yourself,
say "please" and "thank you," and mean it.
In that same vein,
adults kept asking me what I wanted to be when I was a child--
as if I could possibly know that answer until after I've lived
and tried
and failed
and learned who I was and believed
and saw who I had become.
The world's most avoided truth is:
No one knows who they are or what they want to be
until it's too late.
Unfortunately, phones don't work in the afterlife.
Instead, ask yourself what you can do to better the world.
That's a question that actually has answers
you can work with in your lifetime.
If you do what is best for everyone,
you will have a better chance of living with yourself.
That's the fifth.
The sixth is: Be kind.
I'll say it again.
Be kind.
That includes being kind to yourself.
The seventh is: Don't take any shit that you don't want.
Don't confuse respect with subordination.
Fight back.
On the flip side: It's okay to stop fighting.
It's okay to change.
It's your choice.
It's your life.
A caveat to point seven:
There is a history of depression and suicide in your family.
There have been suicides in the last four generations of my father's family.
The last, your second cousin,
John, the son of your grandfather's sixth brother,
he OD'd.
I've tried, too--
frantic actions,
meticulous plans.
Get help.
Talk to people.
It's okay to lay down.
It's okay not to get up.
The fact that you're still there
means you've won.
Keep breathing.
And if the day comes where you must
do what you must,
know I understand.
Eight: Mistakes.
No matter what you did,
No matter how young or how old,
No matter how much of your life
you dedicated to making that mistake
or practicing that mistake
or tangling yourself into that mistake,
let it go.
Even if it was a fundamental part of your identity--
Let Go.
Don't cling to an idea that will drown you.
Following close behind mistakes is Failure.
It will happen.
Don't let the fear cripple you from moving,
from trying,
from fighting.
Fear is just a feeling.
You can drown it it,
or you can use it to propel you forward.
If you stop failing,
you've stopped living.
Every thing you've done in life
was once completely foreign to you.
The first time you tried to pick up your head,
the first time you tried to crawl,
to hold a toy,
to feed yourself,
to talk,
to walk,
you were a mess.
Failure is just a moment in life--
perhaps many, consecutive moments in life--
perhaps many times.
Sometimes you know it's going to be a disaster
before you even start.
It's okay.
Life is like that.
Take a breath. You know how to recover.
You have known know to recover
since the moment you cried
coming into this world.
Cry.
Breathe.
Eat.
Sleep.
Wake up and keep going.
Failure is relative only if you compare yourself to someone else.
Don't look.
Your life is about you.
Keep your head down, focus on your technique.
Anchor your goals to a noble cause,
and every stumble will just be that--
a stumble in a long battle
to better a world
that has turned for billions of years,
and will keep turning for billions of years
after I'm gone,
after you're gone,
after humans are gone.
On love:
I wish I could give you advice about love,
but I don't think that's something
that ever happens the same way twice.
I can tell you to critically think about your actions
while pursuing love--be fair, be generous, be honest,
be open-minded to people of all degrees of sexuality and genders.
Don't rush into relationships.
It is okay to be cautious.
Don't confuse being open-hearted with being fool-hardy.
Keep your eyes open.
Don't hang your hopes on any one person--
unless it is yourself.
Fall in love.
Fall out of love.
Fall in love again.
And when you're in between,
don't give into the fear of being alone.
Take that time for introspection.
If you find yourself
tempted to
fall in love with the damaged one
who has "so much potential"--
the one that the nurturing, tender
part of you wants to protect
and nurse back to health--
stop
step back and take a look at yourself.
Take in your reflection,
peel back your skin and look inside yourself.
(This is hard to do. I know.
And I know, even with this warning
you will fall for
the spontaneous,
showering of attention,
and worship,
the brilliance,
reckless, flamboyant spirit, and the
deep, holy fucks that take you into the depths of your soul,
and the moods that drive you insane
and keep you coming back just another taste
of that sweet, honeyed passion laced with a little
bit of temper
and need, and dependency.
You just can't live without them.)
stop
Is loving that person a mal-adaptive act of self-love?
Are you with them because then it means
there is hope that someone will come
and rescue you with love?
That perhaps you appear as exotic to the world?
Do you want to be a brilliant star?
Practice true self-love.
Rescue yourself.
Exoticism shares a border with objectification.
Do not look to others to confirm your brilliance.
Build yourself deep and strong
with rebar of confidence in yourself
in cement pillars of truth and knowledge and introspection,
so that when the fully formed person
that will be a true partner arrives in your life
you will not be busy looking at yourself.
And you will have the capacity to look
deeply into them and recognize those qualities.
Challenge yourself to fall in love with the person,
not the body--trust me,
in the end of the day, we're all loose and saggy and mottled.
(Perhaps this piece of advice is futile warning for the youthful.)
One day, you may find that the awkward features
have become your most beautiful.
Speaking of bodies and aging:
STIs are a disease, just like diabetes, or lyme, or mono--
you don't want it,
but don't despise people who have it.
It's just a virus.
The longer you live, the more viruses you'll pick up.
Use protection. Get tested often.
Get treated if you have it.
There is life after.
Have consensual sex as often as you'd like.
Don't let anyone shame you for being sexual,
or for choosing not to be.
Don't let anyone--any god--
shame you for being you.
But none of that is actual advice about love.
So, I'll just say: love yourself
as much as I love you.
It will happen.
Don't let the fear cripple you from moving,
from trying,
from fighting.
Fear is just a feeling.
You can drown it it,
or you can use it to propel you forward.
If you stop failing,
you've stopped living.
Every thing you've done in life
was once completely foreign to you.
The first time you tried to pick up your head,
the first time you tried to crawl,
to hold a toy,
to feed yourself,
to talk,
to walk,
you were a mess.
Failure is just a moment in life--
perhaps many, consecutive moments in life--
perhaps many times.
Sometimes you know it's going to be a disaster
before you even start.
It's okay.
Life is like that.
Take a breath. You know how to recover.
You have known know to recover
since the moment you cried
coming into this world.
Cry.
Breathe.
Eat.
Sleep.
Wake up and keep going.
Failure is relative only if you compare yourself to someone else.
Don't look.
Your life is about you.
Keep your head down, focus on your technique.
Anchor your goals to a noble cause,
and every stumble will just be that--
a stumble in a long battle
to better a world
that has turned for billions of years,
and will keep turning for billions of years
after I'm gone,
after you're gone,
after humans are gone.
On love:
I wish I could give you advice about love,
but I don't think that's something
that ever happens the same way twice.
I can tell you to critically think about your actions
while pursuing love--be fair, be generous, be honest,
be open-minded to people of all degrees of sexuality and genders.
Don't rush into relationships.
It is okay to be cautious.
Don't confuse being open-hearted with being fool-hardy.
Keep your eyes open.
Don't hang your hopes on any one person--
unless it is yourself.
Fall in love.
Fall out of love.
Fall in love again.
And when you're in between,
don't give into the fear of being alone.
Take that time for introspection.
If you find yourself
tempted to
fall in love with the damaged one
who has "so much potential"--
the one that the nurturing, tender
part of you wants to protect
and nurse back to health--
stop
step back and take a look at yourself.
Take in your reflection,
peel back your skin and look inside yourself.
(This is hard to do. I know.
And I know, even with this warning
you will fall for
the spontaneous,
showering of attention,
and worship,
the brilliance,
reckless, flamboyant spirit, and the
deep, holy fucks that take you into the depths of your soul,
and the moods that drive you insane
and keep you coming back just another taste
of that sweet, honeyed passion laced with a little
bit of temper
and need, and dependency.
You just can't live without them.)
stop
Is loving that person a mal-adaptive act of self-love?
Are you with them because then it means
there is hope that someone will come
and rescue you with love?
That perhaps you appear as exotic to the world?
Do you want to be a brilliant star?
Practice true self-love.
Rescue yourself.
Exoticism shares a border with objectification.
Do not look to others to confirm your brilliance.
Build yourself deep and strong
with rebar of confidence in yourself
in cement pillars of truth and knowledge and introspection,
so that when the fully formed person
that will be a true partner arrives in your life
you will not be busy looking at yourself.
And you will have the capacity to look
deeply into them and recognize those qualities.
Challenge yourself to fall in love with the person,
not the body--trust me,
in the end of the day, we're all loose and saggy and mottled.
(Perhaps this piece of advice is futile warning for the youthful.)
One day, you may find that the awkward features
have become your most beautiful.
Speaking of bodies and aging:
STIs are a disease, just like diabetes, or lyme, or mono--
you don't want it,
but don't despise people who have it.
It's just a virus.
The longer you live, the more viruses you'll pick up.
Use protection. Get tested often.
Get treated if you have it.
There is life after.
Have consensual sex as often as you'd like.
Don't let anyone shame you for being sexual,
or for choosing not to be.
Don't let anyone--any god--
shame you for being you.
But none of that is actual advice about love.
So, I'll just say: love yourself
as much as I love you.
