I'm a senior, about to graduate college, about to step into the real world. I'm taking what will be my last class of my undergraduate career (I hope). It's strange and I've been reflecting on all the things I've learned. One of the questions my professor asked the class is what we might say to a new writer who's not sure if they're cut out for writing. I started thinking about who I was as a freshman and a new writer and what I wish people had told me. So, I decided to write a letter saying what I would tell myself if I could.
Dear Nathan,
I know you are just starting on your college journey, whereas mine is almost finished. I know all the hopes, fears, joys, and wonders you will experience. And I know exactly what you're feeling right now.
"Oh. Crap. What have I gotten myself into?"
You see all the kids around you, all the peers, the upperclassmen, the future novelists. You see all their work, all their abilities, and just like that, you feel woefully inadequate. You feel like a fraud. You don't write 15,000 words a day. You don't have 50 novels bouncing around your head. You don't even have a single novel written yet!
Guess what: that's okay.
You don't have to be them. You don't have to be a star child for your major. You don't have to be anything except yourself. And I need you to listen to me now because, while I am about to pull the "God card," it's still what you need to hear.
God didn't create you to be anyone but yourself.
He didn't create you to be your parents, who seem so smart that you feel like an idiot around them, depending on the subject. Yes, Mom was in the Talented and Gifted program and read the dictionary twice because she was bored. Yes, Dad started his first business when he was twelve and created bikes from scrap metal at the same time. But you're not them. You were never meant to be.
He didn't create you to be your peers, who scare the crap out of you with their well-thought-out political views and novels they write in their spare time, while you feel like a horrible writer who doesn't belong looking up at them. Look at them again. They are not you. You are not them, and you aren't meant to be.
He didn't create you to be your unborn twin, Thomas. I know you like to live in the land of "What If," especially in your darker moments, fantasizing about what a truly wonderful life he would have had if he'd been born instead, and how much better than you he'd be. Hear me when I say this: He. Is not. You.
You weren't created to be all the people you compare yourself to. You were meant to be who God created you to be. You were created with a special purpose in mind. Not your mom's purpose. Not your big brother's purpose. Your own purpose.
I can't tell you what that is. I'm still figuring it out for myself. But God made you for a reason. He created you wacky, a guy designed to fit in a very special part of his plan. Don't try to be someone else. You weren't made to be anyone other than you. And you will change and evolve. That's okay. But remember, at your core, you are designed for a reason. No one else can fill the role you're supposed to play.
So be you, and no one else.
Best wishes,
Nathan
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Dear Nathan,
I know you are just starting on your college journey, whereas mine is almost finished. I know all the hopes, fears, joys, and wonders you will experience. And I know exactly what you're feeling right now.
"Oh. Crap. What have I gotten myself into?"
You see all the kids around you, all the peers, the upperclassmen, the future novelists. You see all their work, all their abilities, and just like that, you feel woefully inadequate. You feel like a fraud. You don't write 15,000 words a day. You don't have 50 novels bouncing around your head. You don't even have a single novel written yet!
Guess what: that's okay.
You don't have to be them. You don't have to be a star child for your major. You don't have to be anything except yourself. And I need you to listen to me now because, while I am about to pull the "God card," it's still what you need to hear.
God didn't create you to be anyone but yourself.
He didn't create you to be your parents, who seem so smart that you feel like an idiot around them, depending on the subject. Yes, Mom was in the Talented and Gifted program and read the dictionary twice because she was bored. Yes, Dad started his first business when he was twelve and created bikes from scrap metal at the same time. But you're not them. You were never meant to be.
He didn't create you to be your peers, who scare the crap out of you with their well-thought-out political views and novels they write in their spare time, while you feel like a horrible writer who doesn't belong looking up at them. Look at them again. They are not you. You are not them, and you aren't meant to be.
He didn't create you to be your unborn twin, Thomas. I know you like to live in the land of "What If," especially in your darker moments, fantasizing about what a truly wonderful life he would have had if he'd been born instead, and how much better than you he'd be. Hear me when I say this: He. Is not. You.
You weren't created to be all the people you compare yourself to. You were meant to be who God created you to be. You were created with a special purpose in mind. Not your mom's purpose. Not your big brother's purpose. Your own purpose.
I can't tell you what that is. I'm still figuring it out for myself. But God made you for a reason. He created you wacky, a guy designed to fit in a very special part of his plan. Don't try to be someone else. You weren't made to be anyone other than you. And you will change and evolve. That's okay. But remember, at your core, you are designed for a reason. No one else can fill the role you're supposed to play.
So be you, and no one else.
Best wishes,
Nathan
Hey Nathan, thanks for sharing this. This spoke to me right where I was at. Thanks for being a great role-model. I know that God has incredible plans for you as you graduate and move out into the world, and I wish you the best. Never live in fear of being your spontaneous, quirky, thoughtful, and unique self. Thanks for reminding me to do the same.
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