- Dear 14-year-old me: spending every lunch period sitting in the chapel and crying is not normal. Tell someone, for heaven’s sake. This is called “depression.”
- Dear 18-year-old me: why would you even date a guy who’s mean to people, inconsiderate to you, and doesn’t really care much about you or anything else? I don’t get it.
- Dear 20-year-old me: learn NFP before you get married, you dummy. Don’t just say “oh, we’ll learn it when we need it.” Trust me, you’ll need it.
- Dear 21-year-old me: just give the baby a bottle. You will never regret it.
- Dear 22-year-old me: anti-depressants are wonderful. It’s about time.
- Dear 23-year-old me: I know you don’t really believe it when people say this, but it really will get easier as your kids get older. Really!
- Dear me for the last five years: just go to bed. There are very, very few things you could be doing that will make you happier than more sleep.
Come see the rest of the 7 Quick Takes at Kelly’s!