Still Packing

The house is an obstacle course. In the past few days I've managed to repeatedly injure myself. None of these injuries are bad (in fact the worst happened outside the home), but they consistently remind me to be careful. Bags of clothes are on the floor, surrounded by boxes, surrounded by school bags. Some of these things are packed, some need to be sorted, others haven't been touched yet. I know doing a bit each day is the smart way to do this, but it makes for a different type of stress.

In other packing related news, I've come across quite a few things from my past that have given me hope for the future. Positive reminders about who I once was, what was once important to me, and what I still have in common with that girl from years ago.

I wish I could contact her, and say don't worry Past Maile, it get's better. You become comfortable in your own skin, and the things that make you self conscience turn out to be the things you love about yourself. You will make friends, true friends. You will share your writing with others. You will go back to school. You will meet a guy who cares. You'll even move to San Francisco, just like you wanted. You will get through the growing pains. And, p.s. Past Maile, they're totally normal. Everyone has growing pains, even the people who appeared to have it all together.

I wish I could tell her not to worry so much. Hell, I wish I could tell Present Maile not to worry so much.

If you could contact your past self, what would you say to them? What words of wisdom would you offer yourself at 10? At 15? At 20? How have you changed, and in what ways have you stayed the same?

I think exploring this is one of my favorite parts about the moving process. Even if it can be painful at times.


Past Maile, before she became a ball of insecurity.