A letter to my 16-year-old daughter

A few things I wish I knew back when...

You asked me to dye your hair Manic Panic purple — so I did, because purple is your color. Not necessarily your favorite color, but the color of the jacaranda blooms that lined the streets the weekend you were born.

I never dyed my hair a bold color as a teenager. I wanted to, but I didn’t ask. I kept a lot of things to myself — like a little lockbox I wasn’t quite ready to open.

The truth is, a lot of who we are at 16 never leaves us. The parts of us that feel what resonates with us. The secret dreams we carry. Some people bury those parts as they grow up. They think adulthood is a time to get serious. Sensible. Stable.

But the people who seem the most lost, the most unhappy, are often the ones who stopped listening to the whispers that guided them.

There’s the work we do for money. Then there’s the work we do because we can’t not do it. And sometimes, with a bit of luck and persistence, they merge. That’s where the magic lies. Not everyone gets there. But it is possible.

You can’t ignore what you love. You can try, but it’ll keep showing up — a longing, an aching. That yearning exists for a reason. It’s leading you somewhere, even if you can’t see the full picture yet. Everything is a clue, leading you down a road in which you may discover something you never knew existed in you.

A few things I wish I knew back when…

Don’t wait for gatekeepers. If no one opens the door, go rogue. Don’t spend your life waiting for permission. Give it to yourself. Go all in.

A no is not the end. It’s a gift. It means those people or opportunities weren’t yours. Keep going. The right ones will find you.

Look for the glimmers. When something hard happens, search for the small, quiet good thing that follows. There’s always something — an experience, a shift, a light.

Try not to talk smack about people. Most people act out of pain. Even when it hurts, remember — it’s usually not about you.

Keep a few good friends close. They’re gold. And build a community. Don’t isolate. Loneliness sneaks in quietly and stays too long.

Share what you love. Show yourself. Let people see you so your people can find you.

People might judge you. That’s okay. They’re probably comparing themselves to the world and feeling like they don’t measure up.

Get outside every day. Take at least 15 minutes to be still. Listen for the whispers. Then turn your music up loud. Dance like no one’s watching. Always.

Love,
Mom

P.S. I’m finally going to work on a story you inspired me to write when you were little. I hope to gift it to you one day in the near future. I’ve given myself permission. 💛

Feel free to pass it on. ✨