Things that piss me off

Searching for my glasses.
I'll be the first one to admit, I am not an organized person. For some damn reason, my brain refuses to remind me to put stuff in the same place every time. ESPECIALLY SHIT I NEED TO SEE TO FIND. Hence, the pickle I put myself in when I have no contacts in and I can't see an inch in front of my face. For those who are blessed with good eyesight, guh'head and blur your eyesight on purpose, to where you can no longer distinguish shapes. Now look for something you really need. YOU ARE NOW FEELING A FRACTION OF MY FRUSTRATION.

"I know they are here somewhere"

Well written, well thought out, hilariously clever, and consistent blogs
Only because they are more well written, more thought out, and more hilariously clever than mine. Also, they post regularly instead of just during a full moon. And truth be told, I love funny blogs, I just feel like less of a writer after I read them.

This is essentially my face when I read funnier blogs than mine.

Incidentally, this image is from one of the funniest blogs of all time and I 

follow it religiously. Check out www.booksofadam.com

Carbs

Oh, carbs, you nasty little minx, you. I hate you, I really do. NO. I TAKE IT BACK, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! Carbs make me fat. Carbs slow my athletic performance down. Carbs make my brain fuzzier than it should be. Eating carbs for me is like how I imagine a bad one night stand with Zak Bagins would be: momentary euphoria and bliss, followed by intense feelings of regret, remorse, and self loathing. I fervently wish I could say "I had such a bad day, I can't wait to go home and eat celery and swiss chard to just MELT my stress away." Instead I come home and inhale an entire pizza like I've never had one before.  

I swear this is the last Books of Adam image I am going to use.

The underwear I'm wearing at this moment

Every time I stand up, I get a wedgie. I pull it out, do my bizness, and sit down, only to repeat the process again. And yet, when I pull those undies out of the dryer, do I think to myself: "Nope, I will never put on the wedgie panties again." or do I think: "Maybe THIS time I won't have any problems."? I never claimed to be the smartest person on the block.

I understand, my brethren.

Victory rolls

I get lots of compliments on my victory rolls when I wear them out in public. People love them. What they don't know is the fucking commitment it takes for me to get them that way. It's about 45 minutes per roll of screaming, frustrated grunting, rolling and unrolling, and pieces of hair sticking to my fingers when I FINALLY get it and pulling the whole damn thing apart. I am not good at victory rolls, you guys. When you see me with the finished product on my head, you are looking at someone missing a piece of their sanity.

Expectation                                 Reality

People who don't find sarcasm very funny

Get over yourself.

Whatever predator is out there eating my chickens.

Fucking stop already. This isn't KFC. I know circle of life and all that shit but if I catch you sneaking up on my chickens again.....

Not ending my blogs the way I want

Speaking of funny and well written blogs, (this is not one) how do people end blogs like this? I sat here for six minutes trying to think of the perfect way to tie this all together in a neat little concluding package, but I'm drawing a blank. So instead, I will leave you with this picture that really confused me when I googled "funny".

I can't think of a clever title, so I'm just going to make an old school horn noise: AWOOOOOOOGA!!!

In the last two weeks, I attempted several paleo meals with 90% success! All of my meals came from PaleOMG and they were REALLY GOOD, with the exception of one. I made Honey Dijon Pistachio Encrusted Steak, and it was REALLY GOOD. I also made Bacon and Spinach Stuffed Chicken and it was also REALLY GOOD. The last thing from that blog I made was Beef Spare Ribs and it was NOT REALLY THAT GOOD, BUT OK. Honestly, I am pretty sure it was an ID10T error, as my crockpot was turned up too high and it sucked all the juices out of the ribs and made them dry as the bones they were stuck to. I followed the recipe exact, but I think if I had made 3X as much sauce it would have been better.

Also turned down the heat.

Ok, moving on!

Riding that there paleo train, I also joined a gym that's basically called "Edge (not quite Cross Fit but Kinda Like Cross Fit) Performance Fitness". I have been to two classes so far and I gotta say, it's pretty damn amazing. It's not an open gym like 24 Hour where you just go whenever and work out by yourself. There are group sessions at designated times with a trainer who watches and corrects/makes adjusments as necessary. There are usually several stations that each person spends a couple of minutes at and then rotates. And it kicks my ASS! You guys, I'm gonna get buff so fast. It's hard to get into a routine, however, especially considering what a busy person I am. I'm learning to make time for the gym, and hopefully soon I'll be there 4 days a week. Now if I can only work on that self control in the office, when days like today happen and I have easy access to homemade cinnamon rolls, cookies, and homemade pumpkin cake stuff. Days at my office are going to totally negate my days at the gym and those jelly rolls are gonna stay firmly slapped onto my sides.

Not to mention, my station partner in crime was an old dude, estimated age between 78-202 and that badass was charging up the stairs, throwin' dem' ropes, and pounding that medicine ball better than most of the younguns in the joint. I was shamefully shamed, in the most shameful way. I'd like to say I was inspired, but I wasn't. I was shamed.

This weekend, myself, Rowan, and my bro and his wife are stuffing ourselves in a rental car and driving down to southern Idaho for my grandma's birthday. And by stuffing, I mean sitting comfortably in an Infiniti M37. Yep, we picked that little number up last night and I gotta say, it is PLUSH. I am hella excited to drive that thing for 16 hours this weekend, and I don't say hella, EVER.

Go ahead. Bask in it's glory. BASK IN IT, I TELL YOU!

It is by far the nicest car I have ever driven. Now, how am I going to convince the ol' ball n' chain to buy one for me?

In the roller derby world, things are moving steadily but surely. I'm eternally happy that I can finally get to practice every week. We were invited down to SoCal to bout against the Renegades down there, and I really want to go, but I'm unsure how I'm going to get there. I think it would be fun to go with Mo and have a pleasant weekend in another city but plane tickets are OUTRAGEOUS! If we can swing a last minute fundraiser to go, I may be able to. But I get the feeling I'm sitting this one out. Boo.

Until next time, puppies.

My foray into paleo, toddler past life regression, itchy skin flakes, and other boring things no one wants to read about

Whenever I see a bandwagon of any kind, my natural tendency is to RUN. RUN FAST THE OTHER WAY. Being a 4 on the enneagram, I also tend to get highly superior about avoiding said bandwagons and tend to proclaim this loudly in case anyone didn't hear me the first 8 times I said it.

I also tend to be highly annoying.

That being said, I have avoided the whole Crossfit/paleo phenomenon as long as I could.

"Crossfit is a cult." I said.

"Paleo is unhealthy and boring and expensive." I said.

I was so tired of seeing posts by friends who started crossfit, as it seemed like EVERY FUCKING POST was about Crossfit, and what they lifted that day, and other numbers that made sense to nobody. And they were all accompanied by that stereotypical picture of them posing next to a chalkboard with those same ridiculous, non sensical numbers, usually flexing. Wonderful, you are the best at exercising. Get over it already. (are you sensing that superiority yet?)




Today, the only thing stopping me from joining Crossfit is money. I honestly can't afford the monthly payments they want. Say whatever about Crossfit people, they get results.

However, one thing I've tentatively started trying is paleo. After reading about the extensive health benefits of this lifestyle, I'm slowly working my way into it. After gaining over ten pounds since the beginning of the year, I definitely need to do something that I can lose weight in a healthy way and support my athletic lifestyle. (Yes, derby girls are athletes. We train with the best of them and we drink with the best of them. You can do both. I said so.)

Grains, even whole grains, wreck havoc on your system. They cause all sorts of allergies and gut problems, not to mention your body basically treats grains like sugar and they spike your glucose level, only burning the carbs and not the fat in there.

I know myself better than to immediately jump into this, as I am wont to do. I've been browing paleo websites looking for recipes that are easy and don't have any crazy ingredients that will go to waste in case I hate the food. I found a great paleo blog called PaleOMG and I'm learning you can eat paleo and not want to stab yourself repeatedly in the mouth with a hot fork just to taste SOMETHING. I'm going to try her recipes and see how it goes. I will update this blog regularly, because I know that is what people really want to read, all the things I ate.

Also I'm lying about that last bit.

Moving on, I've been thinking a lot lately about some of the strange shit Rowan says to me. Granted, he's only 4.5 so he says a LOT of strange shit.

Gems such as "I named my poop Larry!" and "

But a couple of things he's said made me really re-think my opinions about reincarnation. I don't want to get all hippy dippy on everyone, but really, is this a possibility? Or is my weird kid just getting weirder... at any rate, he's said random stuff like "One time, when I was a girl..." or talks about siblings he's never had or parents that are definitely not us. He's never straight up said "Before I was born when I lived with my first family, I died." or anything, but I'm now wondering if it's likely he had a life before this one? Ahhhh I don't fuckin know.

And lastly. You guys. My tattoo fucking ITCHES. Is this normal? I've had a lot of tattoos, and they've all taken about a week to get past the itchy, flaky phase. I've had this one for over two weeks now and it's shed more skin than a fucking boa constrictor. It's GROSS, dude. But hey, no one can ever tell me I'm not dedicated to my league, right? Right? Guys?

An open letter to the future mother of a boy

My dearest friend,

Someday, your little man is going to call you his best friend.

He is going to show you everything about his world.

What he found outside, the scribbles on his scrap paper, the dog across the street that barked at him once and scared him.

He's going to end up sleeping in your bed every night.

You're going to complain a LOT about that. But secretly, you're going to hope it never ends.

And you'll be heartbroken when it does.

He's going to embarrass the fuck out of  you when he poops on the front lawn.

He's going to make you prouder than you've ever been when you watch him ride his bike for the first time.

He's going to scream at you, tell you he hates you, and attempt to run away but only make it a block.

Only to tell you he loves you, that very same evening.

He's going to bring you shit from outside. And you're going to LOVE it, even if it's just a clod of dirt. You're going to tell your husband you're throwing it out, but you'll end up with a secret stash.

He's going to insist on a bandaid long after his wound is healed. You're going to keep putting one on there.

He's going to get really sick. You'll end up taking him to the doctor. You'll lose sleep at night, because your instincts won't allow you to sleep while your child is sick. Every tiny noise from his room will wake you up and you'll be going in there all night just to make sure he's breathing.

While he's an infant, you're going to be terrified of SIDS and all the other monsters waiting to take your child from you. Stay strong. It sucks. But you get through it.

While he's a toddler, you will have to learn when to protect him, and when to stand back and let him learn his own lessons. You will misjudge this from time to time. It's ok.

You're going to say and do silly shit you never thought you would do, and surprisingly, you're going to laugh your ass off while you're doing it because he is laughing his ass off too.

At some point, you'll probably endure him getting seriously injured, or have to be put under for some reason. It's the world's worst feeling, seeing your baby laying there unconscious while the doctor works on him. I'm not telling you it's going to be ok, because it won't. You're going to cry and not let go of him for hours and hours. That feeling will pass, but not entirely. You'll remember it forever.

Every now and then, a news story or article about something horrible happening to someone else's baby will strike you the wrong way, and you're going to sob uncontrollably and want to never let go of him. It's ok, it happens to everyone.

You're going to love him like you have never loved anything in your life. Your love is going to be fierce, it's going to come out of nowhere, and it's going to make you a great mom.

I love you. Congrats, mama.

On being a Mommy Martyr

Being as involved in the natural birth/parenting world as I am, I am constantly seeing great articles about giving birth at home, cooking organic food for your family, not vaccinating, and homeschooling. What I don't see however, are enough articles and posts about the self-sacrificing rut I like to call "Mommy Martyrdom".

Many moms, and especially first time moms, throw themselves into the worlds of their children with enough force to knock of their pantyhose. Myself included. When my son was born, I became a stay at home mom. I quit my job, and filled my days with OMSI, playdates, the Zoo, the Children's Museum, parks, strolls, activities, you name it, I did it. My kid was my whole world. He became my identity. I was no longer "Cierra", I was "Rowan's Mom". Whenever I left the house, I had the giant diaper bag full of snacks and other assorted items I would need throughout the day to make sure my kid was content. I didn't even have my own purse anymore. I spent more time getting him and all his crap ready than I did on myself. I became "that mom". You know the one I'm talking about. Don't even pretend you don't. The mom in the grocery store wearing gross jeans, an over sized sweatshirt, hair up in a ratty ponytail, no makeup, and glasses. Rowan was already a pretty great kid in public so I never had to worry about looking out of control, but I definitely looked like I had given up. I did everything around the house as well. I spent hours making my own baby food, I kept the house as clean as I could, I tried to find wholesome and educational things to do with Rowan. If I got sick, I would simply buck up and plow through it. It would take me three times as long to get better, but I didn't have the luxury of calling in sick and taking a whole day to rest and heal.

And little by little, I lost myself more.

The person I was before I was a mom became a shadow. I rode motorcycles  I belly danced, I spent time with my single, non-parent friends. I took classes, went on hikes, painted. I did STUFF. I did lots of STUFF. All of that got put in the closet the day Rowan was born. I rarely did anything for myself. Everything I did was for my family. If I did spend time away, I spent most of that time checking my phone, making sure everything was already. I was wracked with guilt for being away from home. I felt like I was abandoning my family by going to a birthday party or having a drink with a friend.

I think I finally "woke up" around 2 years after I gave birth. I finally did something for myself and joined a roller derby league. Slowly but surely, I started gaining my identity back. I started taking extra time to put on makeup again. (and fuck you to anyone who wants to give me shit about that. It makes me feel GOOD.) I tossed out my ratty clothes and started buying cute, new clothes. I would go to events and try to ignore that nasty feeling that I should be at home, and when I actually got home, it turned out my family functioned just fine without me.

I will admit, I delved into it a little too much at first. I spent too much time away from home, and trying to find a balance between my social life and my home life was really hard. Especially considering my derby league wasn't exactly the most supportive environment to those who have kids. My requirements for getting drafted to a team were strict, and made it really hard to fulfill while still making my family a priority. I eventually got the handle of it, though, partially due to leaving that league and helping start a new one, one that caters more to families and busy lives and still makes it possible to skate. I learned how to say "no" and make my family a priority, but also stay involved and help the league.

My whole point to this blog post is: Do not sacrifice your identity to become a mother. You can be a GREAT mom (or dad!) while still maintaining your sense of self. Your kid is NOT you. You are you. You have wants, needs, interests, passions, and talents. Utilize all of them. In fact, your child will grow up watching a parent who is independent  self sufficient, and does what they need to do to be happy. And they will emulate that. Make your facebook picture an actual picture of you, instead of a picture of your kid. Post shit about your day or what you are doing, not what your kid is doing. Stop sacrificing your health and happiness for your kids' happiness because guess what? They're going to be happy anyway! Stop worrying about looking like a mom, and be yourself again. I'm covered in tattoos, I have crazy hair sometimes (I even had a mohawk for awhile) and I have gauged ears. I wear makeup every day, even if I don't leave the house. I'm goofy, I dance with my kid in public, and I laugh at people who choose to scowl at me for not being a "normal" mom. I play roller derby, I've been an extra on a tv show, I take photography classes, I'm even considering trying Krav Maga and Aerial Acrobatics.

And I love it. I love my life, I love my happy, healthy, unique son. He's goofy and silly with me.  It's much more fun being this way than before, when I was so stressed out about being the perfect mom. I can never be the perfect mom, I will fuck up from time to time. I will make mistakes. Even today I caught myself berating myself because Rowan has a cavity and I don't brush and floss his teeth twice a day. Whatever! I try the best I can! Those teeth are going to fall out anyway and when he's old enough, he'll be brushing his own damn teeth!

Get your fucking identity back, it's the best thing you can do for your kid, I promise.

So, a lot has gone on in the days since I posted last. Commenting on a friend's blog sorta reminded me I have one of my own. Usually I try to make them somewhat lighthearted but this one won't be.

Over the summer, I worked my ass off and lost almost 40 pounds. It was amazing. I eliminated all simple carbs from my diet, worked out at least an hour a day, and within a couple of months I had already dropped 20 pounds. It was amazing. It gave me motivation to keep going. Once July hit, I was at my smallest I have ever been, even before having Rowan, at 129 pounds.

Then everything came crashing down.

The depression that had been lurking in the dark corners of my conscious mind suddenly made it's appearance. I won't elaborate as to what, since I only want my closest friends to know, but there was a situation that I engaged myself in that, I believe, was partially caused by my depression and the thoughts that were circulating around in my head. I don't blame my mental illness completely, but it certainly made things worse than they would have been, had I been in a normal, healthy state of mind. I look back at myself and who I was then and I don't even recognize that person. Pictures from that time period show a happy, thin person, but all I see is that darkness lurking there behind my eyes. It all came to a head in November, after I moved out of my house and left my family. I had started cutting again in September, right after I moved out. I had so many intense emotions, and so much internal guilt for what I was going through, and I had nowhere to put any of it. I was punishing myself. I finally cut myself so bad, I should have gotten stitches but didn't go to the hospital. I told a friend of mine, Mo picked me up and took me to the ER and I landed myself in the psych ward. From there, the nurses recommended I admit myself into an intensive outpatient therapy program at Providence, and I started going to group therapy every day, six hours a day, 5 days a week. I did that for 8 weeks.

The first few weeks were rough. I was numb, I felt no joy in anything. I was constantly berating and punishing myself for my feelings. I was conflicted about moving back home, I couldn't trust my own feelings anymore because they had betrayed me so bad for so long. I cried nearly every day, at the drop of a hat. Any feelings of happiness or joy were completely squashed, because I felt I did not deserve them. I  had several crisis meltdowns, in which people tell me they had whole conversations with me that I do not remember. The things I said to them didn't make sense. It was a struggle to get up every day and go to therapy, but somehow I managed it. Maybe because I felt like I had nothing else. I had ruminative thoughts swimming through my head: "You're a terrible person. You're a failure as a mother and as a wife. You're selfish, lazy, stupid, and fat. Not to mention ugly. All you do is cause pain and suffering to those around you. You fuck up everything good that happens to you and it would be best for the world if you took yourself out of it. Rowan is going to grow up fucked up as well, just like you, if you stick around. It's better if you were not here because everyone you know would be much happier without you." I felt heavy, just walking around and holding my head up was an effort. I wanted to lay down and die. Just curl up and let myself go. I cried because I didn't do it.

Slowly, slowly, I started pulling out of it. A combination of many skills and tools I learned from therapy helped me keep the meltdowns at bay. I still felt joyless, but I didn't feel hopeless. I moved back home in December. I got a car. I got a job. Things started looking up. Mo and I started attending couple's counseling together to try to work out issues we had suppressed for far too long. Life is not any easier than before, but I have learned perspective and context, and now it seems more manageable.

My depression is back in its corner, lurking. It is still waiting to come back out, and sometimes I let it. Sometimes I get so tired of keeping it at bay, I just give up and let it consume me. Those days, I sob, I cry, I punish myself (not physically anymore) and I berate myself. I still struggle to find joy in my every day life. I am envious of people who naturally find it without effort. I have to work really fucking hard not to explain away the little things that are supposed to give me joy, like my family. I will literally find a reason to convince myself not to have happiness in those things. It's more of an effort to remember why those things bring me happiness than to explain why they don't. And it's all about me, not them. If I find happiness snuggling with Rowan, the thought "you are fucking him up right this SECOND by being near him" is always there. It's a fight to push that away and enjoy the moment.

Maybe someday it will get easier. Maybe someday I will finally be free of the need to physically injure myself to place my emotions somewhere. Maybe someday I will be able to feel joy and happiness freely, without convincing myself I don't deserve them. I really hope so.

There is a lot of heavy stuff in this post, which I almost didn't write because of the personal nature of it. But I firmly believe we need to be more open about mental illness and the effects of it, and I want people to read it and come away with more understanding of what goes on inside a depressed person's head. The world needs to know more about mental illness, it NEEDS to be talked about, not shushed away like it's the 1950's and something to be ashamed about. Depression happens in about 25% of Americans. That means 1 out of 4 people you see on the street are struggling with the same thing I just wrote about. Half of Americans are currently in counseling for one reason or another. Depression, mental illness, etc, are all part of our daily lives. It's not something to be ashamed of, or something to hide away and pretend it isn't there. It's something that needs to be openly discussed, as if it were normal, because it is. If less people were ashamed of their illness, there would be less people suppressing their feelings and more people seeking help.

There are SO MANY good resources out there to get help for depression, anxiety, PTSD, etc, that nobody should be going without if they need it. Hell, there were homeless people in my outpatient therapy, so it can be done regardless of income. NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Illness) is free, and there is a group therapy for any mental issue you can think of.

Life will get better for me. I know that now, in my rational mind. I have a hard time remembering it during a crisis, but I am positive I will get there. I just need to be patient with myself and lean on my loved ones to help me get there.

An open letter to my teenage self...

As I near age 30, I look back at myself throughout my teenage years and literally fucking cringe. Although completely normal, I was a serious hot mess. If I could go back in time, sit myself down, and have a serious man to man talk with myself, here's what I would say:

At 13: I know you're totally embarrassed by your family and hate hanging out with them. That's normal and I wouldn't ask you to change it. But please, treasure them. In a few years that family will no longer be whole and your heart will break.

Also, yes the internet is a new and wonderful thing, but just be careful mm'kay?

Don't listen to the bullies. They're mean spirited and they will crush that very thing that makes you, YOU. You are a bright, funny, unique person and if you let them get to you, it's going to hurt you for a long long time. Lean on your friends because they love you and they'll help you get through it.

At 14: You can't have a new best friend every 2 months. One night of uncontrollable laughter and pixie sticks does not equate a best friend. Similarly, one disagreement over something trivial doesn't mean the bestie-ship is over. You CAN have more than one best friend, as each person brings a different and awesome thing to the friendship. This is something I didn't learn until MUCH later in life and it's caused a lot of problems. Also, it is perfectly fine and normal to have crushes on girls. PLEASE, for the love of all that is holy, don't suppress it because your religious upbringing says it's wrong. It's not! Love yourself, and remember that love knows no gender and if you want to ask that girl to the dance, DO IT! Many people love both boys and girls, and the longer you deny that this is you, the more bitter you will be when you're older.

DO YOUR HOMEWORK!! I know your lame parents seem like they hate you for making you do it, but this really is teaching you valuable lessons for later in life. It's not the actual lesson material, it's teaching you about deadlines and being responsible in making them. I still haven't learned how to do this properly.

At 15: Not every boy you encounter is your dream guy. GURL STOP. YOU DID NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM. You are 14 and your hormones are raging and all you see are boys (and girls, see above) around you. Please be more selective.

Don't count the lines in the plays you are cast in. Don't be miserable for too long when you DON'T get a part in the plays. Disappointment is a part of life even for adults. Learn to channel those feelings into kicking ass the next time around. ALSO, that guy you keep making out with backstage? He's a douche and as soon as the play is over he'll want no part of you. Kick him to the curb, right now.

At 16: This move to Oregon is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you. I'm so glad you are excited for this change. Don't lose touch with the people you left behind though, otherwise it will take YEARS to get back in contact with them and you'll have lost a lot in that time. It's called social networking and it's at least 5 years away still.

When you get to your new school, you will get sucked in to the "I don't care what anyone thinks so much, that I'm going to make every effort I can to show them how NOT like them I am."

Now, while I totally get this mindset and support it wholeheartedly, your method of approach makes you look like a fool. I love how unique you are and how you have no desire to fit in with the popular crowd. That is such a great personality trait to have. But do not let it define your life. Keep dancing, making art, loving, living, and really HONESTLY do not care what people say about you.

Get off your ass! For God's sake stop lounging around eating marionberry pie in your room and do something active. Your metabolism is still at its peak and if you let it go to waste now, you'll have a hell of a time keeping weight off as an adult.

Listen to your mom. She's right. About everything.

At 17: Alright, almost an adult now. You are becoming more aware of the life outside of your little high school bubble. You are starting to see the world for how it really is. You'll be graduating high school this year.

You met your future husband over the summer. I honestly don't know what to tell you here. On one hand, I want to tell you to run, fast, the other way, and don't look back. On the other hand, I believe your experience with this will shape who you are and how you deal with life from now on. I really do think you love him, for now. I guess just be careful. Let the guy down easy in a couple of years. Don't leave him in the same way I did. And don't start dating again until the process is long over, otherwise you'll introduce drama that will make things so much worse.

Find a job right after graduating. You'll move out of the house the minute you turn 18 and not having a job will mean living in your car and then couch surfing in some very uncomfortable situations until you can get that first apartment.

This is the year you'll go to France. And I have to say this is my biggest regret: Take LOTS OF PICTURES! Keep a journal and document every little thing you do. You have a terrible memory and everything you did will fade away until you are left with scraps. And don't puss out because you're sick and sit in the hotel while everyone else goes to the top of the Eiffel Tower. That is an idiotic thing to do.

At 18: Guess what? You STILL don't know everything. You think you know all about how life works and what your plan is, but you won't have it figured out even at 30. Life is a continuous surprise... don't nail down your future or commit to any ideas right now because they can (and should!) change. And don't judge others who are travelling on a different life path or think THEY know everything. Don't say the things you are thinking in your head, and just remember everyone has a different future set for them.

At 19: Happy Marriage! Or not... that's for a future date. Right now, learn as much as you can about living life on your own. You are still struggling to figure it out. Get it together. Pay your damn bills on time. Watch your credit closely and DO EVERYTHING you can to keep it in good standing. Even if it means not spending money on things you want for awhile. Your credit will come back to haunt you again and again, and you are already setting bad spending habits for yourself. Save that shit, stop buying crap because guess what? You won't even know where it is 5 years from now.

So that's pretty much the best advice I can give. Most of it is all stuff I wish I had paid attention to when I was younger because it would have helped me set better habits for myself as an adult. I'm sure 10 years from now I'll be writing the same open letter to my 20's self, but if we're being honest here, I really do know everything. :-)

Peace out.