An Open Letter to 17-Year-Old Me

The one thing I wish I knew then

So, you’ve got it all figured out, huh? I’ll admit, you’re damn convincing. Raking in the 90s in school, early acceptances to university (including that University of Guelph sitting number one on your list), working close to 30-hours a week, playing that sport you love so much, all while maintaining a social life with friends you think will be there until the very end.

I still don’t know how you did it. Maybe it’s better I don’t ask.

I have some bad news, though: things will change (and we both know how much we like change).

You’ll go to U of G with your best friend – one of the very few people who will stick by your side through everything, by the way, so never take her for granted – and you’ll struggle. You might want to study a little more for your first psychology midterm… but then again, failing something for the first time will probably do you some good.

When you get your first English paper back, save yourself the frustration and embrace the 72. In three years, you’ll treat it like the 90s you got in high school.

In the middle of October, you won’t be able to tough it out anymore. You’ll call your dad and he’ll pick you up after your night class, no questions asked. Next will be a breakdown at your kitchen table in front of your parents about how you think you’ve taken the wrong path – and you have, but everything happens for a reason.

You’ll learn that later.

Hating your classes won’t be something that goes away – it probably just gets stronger, actually. You’ll struggle to find your place, and there will be a stretch of time where you’ll give up without even knowing it. You’ll lose that passion, that drive, and whatever it was that kept that naive and annoying I-can-do-anything attitude on fire.

First-and second-year will come and go. You’ll get more 70s, learning that 60s aren’t uncommon either. But there’s good news. You’ll stop letting numbers on a piece of paper define what you’re capable of. If you ask me, that’s one of the best things you’ll take away from your first two years in university.

For whatever reason, it takes turning 20 to reevaluate some things. Two weeks after your birthday, you’ll send an email, generated by curiosity for the path you never gave a fair chance, and it’ll change your life.

You’ll head full force into a year you’ll remember forever. It starts with filming simple interviews (something I’m now convinced reignited that drive) and counting out Buffalo Wild Wings cards (you’ll become very familiar with these, I can promise you that).

You’ll be thrown right into an environment that, in the irony of it all, you’ve been exposed to your entire life, yet don’t have a clue about. You’ll embrace it, though. Actually, you’ll make it your own. You’ll excel in more ways than I can explain (that’s something I’m still trying to figure out, too).

You’ll experience magic at it’s finest, getting to witness first hand what success truly is. Breathe in every second of this, by the way. It flies by, and no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to relive it.

A family of sorts will take you under their wing, and they’ll treat you like gold found on the other side of the rainbow. Never forget to thank them, and several times, at that. They’re only the biggest of reasons as to why you’re finally chasing down what you now know you’re meant to do.

Don’t expect the perfect storybook ending, though. It’ll break your heart. Some people deserved that storybook ending. You’ll know that. But life isn’t perfect, or fair, and a little bit down the road you’ll recognize that they’ll get their ending eventually – one way or another. Add this to the lessons you needed to learn along the way.

You’ll head into your final year of university with a pocket full of accomplishments. Be proud of them, but don’t use them as a gauge for this year. It’s going to be about as tough as they come.

We’ll be right back to where we started, just four years later – a full course load, welcoming the approaching graduation with wide-open arms, working two time-consuming jobs, while somehow trying to find time to sleep.

You’ll have a couple more heartbreaks, and, believe me, they’ll take a toll. You’ll be questioning a lot of things, mainly because for the first time in your life, you don’t have the next five years laid out perfectly. Despite your colour-coded day-planner (you need this to survive this year, take my word for it), you barely have the next two months planned out.

What happens after graduation? Where will I work? Where will I live? Has it all been for nothing?

Those are just a few questions that will literally keep you up at night. You’ll go sleepless a few times, so have your Netflix at the ready.

I still don’t have the answers to these questions, either.

I’m weeks away from closing out my undergraduate degree, and I’m about as clueless as you are about what’s next for this soon to be 22-year-old.

But somehow, I’m slowly realizing that maybe going on without answers isn’t the worst thing.

While a plan is comfortable – there’s no doubting that – giving myself a blank space for the first time is just like failing that psychology midterm. I’m learning how to live, and how to move forward, without a plan; it’s another thing I needed.

At the end of it all, life isn’t about numbers on a transcript, failures, accomplishments, or plans. It’s about everything that happened along the way. It’s about the person you became along the way.

The next four years will teach you more about your dreams and goals, more about life, and more about you than I can ever explain. You’ll learn that nothing can really stand in the way if you want it badly enough. You’ll learn that life isn’t going to make it easy, and you can bet it isn’t going to be fair. You’ll learn that you’re tougher than you think. You’ll learn just what you’re capable of, and you’ll surprise yourself every time. You’ll grow up.

You’ll meet people who will inspire you, the ones who will only bring the very best out of you. You’ll lose people you once called best friends, and you’ll miss them from time to time, but you’ll know it’s for the better. You’ll care more for things than you ever thought possible. You’ll win and lose. You’ll shoot and miss – but keep going anyway.

You will live.

That’s what you should always recognize: You chose to try, to aspire, to believe in something.

Never change that. Never lose that.

Through it all, that’s the only thing I wish I knew then.