Dear 13 Year Old Me,

Dear 13 Year Old Me,

I want you to know, first, how proud I am of you. You are right in the very middle of some really tough years and you are living them out like a champion. I know you don't think you are, but trust me, you'll see in a few years. You're doing better than you think you are.

I think if I could tell you anything, it would be to please live your life to the absolute fullest you possibly can. Drink in every single second. Do something impulsive. Feel regret, joy, fear, pain, sadness, loss, acceptance... it doesn't really matter much, just feel. You will never feel the same way that you do right now ever again. You'll never know this exact much about the world. You'll never see through this exact lens. You'll never get to go back to this moment, so please make it count. Make it count and live like life is ice cream with a cherry on top because it is. This life is gorgeous and wonderful and it can take you from mountaintop to valley in record time, but the opposite is also true, and we are lucky enough to experience it all. Don't take that for granted, sweet girl. Live.

Pay attention to what your teachers are telling you. They are trying to teach you about more than math, and you'll catch that if you just listen. They're really teaching you about life. Read those books that they are assigning to you, too. Some of them will capture your attention in a way you haven't experienced before, and that's going to change your life. Do the assignments that seem silly, because they're fun to look back on later, and they'll bond you to the friends that you have made during this time.

That's another thing. Make those friends. Cling to the moments you have together, because they are going to pass really quickly. You'll be going separate directions in the world before you know it. And some of these people are going to walk in the same direction as you. But many won't. And that's okay, too. Stick to who you are, and you'll find that you have some phenomenal people who stick on that road with you. But accept that it won't be everyone. People are going to let you down... it's just the nature of humanity. But you get to choose whether or not you give them the chance to do it again. And there are some that are definitely worth that chance. And others that aren't. You decide. And if you pick wrong, and someone hurts you again, know that you'll be okay. You're stronger than you will think you are in those moments. Your mom tells you all the time that "true friends are few and far between". She's right. She's really always right. The faster you accept that and listen to her advice, the better off you'll be. She will help you avoid a lot of big mistakes.

Be careful who you share your heart with, but do share it. You have a lot to offer the world. And you're going to waste time sitting across from people who love you and are trying to help you with a tight-lipped expression refusing to talk about the ache that sits deep inside of you right now. I know you're feeling it. Don't hold on to it anymore. The day you walk away and leave that weight at the foot of the cross is the most freeing day you've ever experienced. And it will take a few times trying to leave it, but ultimately picking it up and carrying it out again before you truly let it go. And it won't happen in the place you think... it's not going to be inside those four church walls. At one point, you'll find that you see and feel God more in a dance studio releasing the fullness of who you are while marveling the intricacies of the body you have been given. You'll see God more on street corners in the random acts of kindness than in the pew across the aisle next to you. It's difficult to stick it out through this. But do. You'll never know how important that church family will be to you. And I know you want everyone to like you, but don't become their doormat. Stick up for yourself. Don't let yourself be pushed down into being silent. Your voice is small right now, but my dear, it matters. It matters.

Go to West Virginia. But be prepared, you're going to leave your heart there every single year for at least the next 7 years. But that makes going back that much sweeter, you see. Your heart finally reconnects with home.

Fall in love. And fall out of love. And fall in love again. And swear off love just to have it surprise you in this crazy unexpected way. You're going to experience heartbreak and it's not going to be easy all the time. But please, please fall in love anyway. Because loving is absolutely, 100%, entirely worth the risk. You'll learn that life is a lot like a baseball game and that you cannot let the fear of striking out keep you from getting up to bat. Because there will be those moments where you see the bat collide with red seams right on the sweet spot, and you'll watch in awe as the orb you just launched into space clears the fence that seems to be a million miles away. Your dad has taught you baseball your whole life. Lean into it. Let the safety of 9 innings make you smile and take you back to sticky cotton candy fingers, sunburned shoulders, and seventh-inning stretches.

Learn how to be alone. Learn what the beat of your own heart sounds like. Make sure that, when the rest of the crowd fades away, you like who you are left alone with. If you can't ever find comfort in the solitude of being alone, then you may just be in poor company. Start back over.  Create the person that you've always wanted to be. She's in there, you just have to figure out how to let her shine through. Everyone's just looking for a place in the world. You'll see that more and more as you continue to grow. Some people find their places in bottles and others in the arms of someone they claim to be madly in love with. But, please listen to me: You cannot make homes out of human beings. Let that sink in now and save yourself some deep pain later. Your place cannot be inside of someone else. You create that place. You are that place. Recognize that.

Take chances. Jump in puddles and giggle when the water completely soaks you from the waist down. Eat ice cream straight out of the carton while watching a movie marathon with your best friend. Don't count the calories that night. I promise, the memory will be totally worth every single fat cell you think you'll gain. Know that it's okay to call someone at 2am if your heart is aching, because you'll probably receive those phone calls too. And you don't mind it either. Bake and make art and burn bagel bites in the microwave and wonder how you're ever going to make it on your own. Know, though, in those moments, that you're going to be okay.

Don't take things too seriously. There's always tomorrow. And then the next day. And you get to pick your beginning. Be brave enough to start over. And over. And over. You truly are so brave and strong and smart and you're going to surprise yourself with what you can make it through. You're going to let yourself down. You'll do some of the things you swear right now that you never will. To be honest, you'll probably do most of them. You'll mess up relationships and you'll hurt people and you'll ache for just one more moment to make things right. And that moment isn't going to come. And you're going to be left holding the totally shattered pieces of a heart you thought you could protect. It's okay that you can't. Because you'll find then, too, that you take those shattered pieces and though the process may seem slow at times, you piece them back together. You find the truth at the center of the fact that it takes brokenness to make a mosaic, and that the cracks are the only places where the light can really come in. You'll find that you need to let things go, simply for the reason that they are heavy. You're a masterpiece that you created yourself. It's a constant flow of progress, but you'll see later how beautiful the view is.

Keep being brave. You've got a pretty awesome life ahead of you. I'm proud of you. Things are definitely looking alright from here. I'll see you before you know it.

-S.