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Author, Louise Allan, writes a letter to her 12 y.o self

I’m very excited to welcome Louise to my blog series and so very glad she will be published next year. She has a beautiful way with words, folks. Now, say hello to Lou as she says Hi to her 12 y.o. self.

Hi Lou,

This is your 49-year-old self here. I’m a bit stouter, creakier, and have a few more creases in my skin, but inside my head, I’m still the same as you. All of the things you love—walking in the bush, swimming in the ocean, music, reading—I still love, too. You’re still here.

I’ve learnt loads in the intervening years, though, and I’d like to share a few of them with you:

Firstly, you are a good girl and you are lovable. You should have been told this from the minute you were born, so that you’d know it inside your heart. But you weren’t. If I was with you now, I’d tell you that you’re not a bad person, you’re not selfish, and you’re not a bitch, and I’d keep telling you until you believed it. You weren’t born bad, no child is. What you’ve been told is bullshit and don’t believe any of it. There’s nothing wrong with you and don’t listen to anyone who tells you differently.

That isolation and loneliness you’re feeling, it’s because of all the rubbish you’ve been told above. You are worthwhile. So march right up to those girls you look up to because you’re just as good as them.

Also, you’re an intelligent girl and you needn’t hide it. Intelligence is good. Don’t deliberately make mistakes and get things wrong so you don’t stand out in class. And tell everyone you like Mozart, love Maths, and want to study Medicine. So what if they call you a ‘brain’? There’s worse things to be called …

(There’s so much I want to tell you, young Lou, that my fingers can’t type fast enough …)

Needing time on your own and not making friends easily doesn’t mean you’re antisocial, so don’t believe that either. It will be a couple of decades before you’ll read Susan Cain and realise you’re just introverted, that’s how you’re made, there’s nothing wrong with that, and you don’t have to try to be different. The world needs introverts.

That restrictive, oppressive, Catholicism you’re being brought up with, and all those sermons telling you not to have sex before marriage—oh god, don’t get me started—don’t listen to any of it, Lou, and don’t feel ashamed of anything to do with your body. One day soon, no one will care.

I need to tell you, too, that things will get a lot worse before they get better. A really, really sad thing will happen without any warning, and it will be a long time before you’ll feel normal again. You’ll feel the deepest pain you’ve ever felt, but at the same time, you’ll feel yourself expanding. I know you don’t believe this is possible—but it is, and you will survive. Not just that, but you’ll grow from it. It will be the making of you, and you’ll put it to good use. Forever after.

I’ll tell you something else, too: you will fall many times over the next decade. You’ll make mistakes from which you think you can’t recover. But each time, you’ll face up to it, claw your way through, and learn big lessons.

One day, in the not-too-distant future, you’ll meet a wonderful man with whom you’ll make your own family and you’ll be happy. Except every now and then, your mind will slip into a deep, dark place and want to stay there. You won’t understand why it does this, and you’ll try everything to comprehend and prevent it.

It will take a long time, but with the help of a book and a wise person, you’ll realise all the lessons I’ve just told you in this letter, and they will sink in. After that, you won’t visit that dark place ever again.

And beside you will be that wonderful man you married and your four children, and you’ll look back at your twelve-year-old self and your 22-year-old self and your 32- and 42-year-old selves, and you’ll see how you’re still all of those people, the same yet different. And you’ll see that everything happened for a reason and led you to where you are, and you’ll be at peace.

With lots and lots of love,

Lou xx

PS. On the Monday after the end-of-term pub crawl in third year, don’t forget to look at the window on the left when you enter the Medical Sciences building. He’s left you a note. I didn’t look and missed it.

PPS. And the next day, on the Tuesday, don’t dally like I did when you leave the lecture theatre because he’s waiting for you in the hall outside.

PPS. Your daughter will share a birthday with Mozart. Sorry about the spoiler, but I knew you’d be excited by that.

Louise AllanABOUT THE AUTHOR:Louise Allan 12

Louise is a Perth writer whose first novel will be published in September 2017 by Allen and Unwin. It was shortlisted for the 2014 City of Fremantle-TAG Hungerford Award and prior to that, she was awarded a Varuna Residential Fellowship to work on it.
You can read more of Louise’s writing on her blog, or catch up with her on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

 

[bctt tweet=” What advice does author @louisejallan give her 12y.o self? #LetterToMyself https://www.jennjmcleod.com/blog/a-letter-to-myself-author-list” username=”jennjmcleod”]

To see the list of authors taking part in this letter-writing blog series: CLICK

Wanting to honour the lost art of letter writing through this blog series, I also opened my fourth novel with a character writing a letter. And not just any letter. It’s a story — perhaps the most important he’ll ever tell.

The Other Side of the SeasonReady for a sea change

Life is simple on top of the mountain for David, Matthew and Tilly until the winter of 1979 when tragedy strikes, starting a chain reaction that will ruin lives for years to come. Those who can, escape the Greenhill banana plantation on the outskirts of Coffs Harbour. One stays—trapped for the next thirty years on the mountain and haunted by memories and lost dreams. That is until the arrival of a curious young woman, named Sidney, whose love of family shows everyone the truth can heal, what’s wrong can be righted, the lost can be found, and . . . there’s another side to every story.

BUY now from Amazon, KoboiTunes, or

Booktopia

 

18 thoughts on “Author, Louise Allan, writes a letter to her 12 y.o self

  1. Thanks for inviting me to be part of this series, Jenn. I’m in very esteemed company! 🙂

    1. A pleasure. Love sharing book love.

  2. That’s just beautiful. I knew it would be.
    I cannot wait for your book to knock the world’s socks off next year Louise.

    xx

    1. Thanks for your confidence, Lily. Fingers crossed … xx

    2. Me too. Beautiful wordsmith.

  3. So lovely! I feel irked by the thought of talking to my 12.y.o.self. She was so idealistic…unrealistic! Louise, how could anyone ever think you were bad. You are some kind of alphabetical angel. And I too have recently realised I’m an introvert, and there’s no shame in it at all.
    Great idea JennJMcLeod. Letters are a precious thing to have and to hold. Michele

    1. Thank you, M! So you should be idealistic at the tender age of 12—cynicism shouldn’t begin until much later!
      Introversion is an asset, no matter how much the world seems to love extroverts. I’m glad the value of introversion is finally being recognised, and I’m glad to meet a fellow member of the club. Introverts of the world unite! 🙂

  4. I just loved this reassuring letter to your twelve-year old self, Louise. It’s heart-felt and beautiful. Thank you, and Thank you Jenn. xx

    1. Thanks, Marlish! It’s funny, but I wouldn’t turn back the clock—I’m quite happy with how things have turned out. xx

  5. Lou, Louise, resonated on every level, thank you. From one introvert to another, my heart is happy you have integrated your secret, dark spots and woven them into your Louise life blanket now. Well done you on writing to twelve year old Lou and sharing with us in sage, eloquent splendour.

    1. From one introverted Louise to another, I thank you! I love your description—weaving secret, dark spots into your life blanket—because that’s exactly how it is. Beautifully described. 🙂

  6. Very touching letter and I’m so glad you’re at peace with yourself and the world.

    Here’s to you and your lovely family. May success continue to come your way!

    1. Thank you for your lovely thoughts, Karen. Being at peace with myself is a nice place to end up! xx

  7. […] J McLeod invited me to be part of her series, ‘A Letter to My Younger Self’, so I wrote to my twelve-year-old self and, as it turned out, I had a fair bit to tell her. I could have gone on and on, but I cut it […]

  8. You story to yourself is just fabulous, don’t you wish we had hindsight? And yes your are kind, wonderful, smart, funny, and full of love. Lou, Lou – Louise xxx

    1. Thank you, Rae! In Medicine, we called hindsight ‘the retrospectoscope’—it’s funny how many mishaps could have been avoided if we all had one, and not just doctors. To be honest, I’m glad we don’t—(a) there’s not much I’d change, and (b) I don’t want to go back and live through it again! 🙂

  9. I have been reading your blogs Louise and love them and your letter to your twelve-year-old self brought tears. I have seven daughters and could imagine their letters. I look forward to your first book. thank you for sharing. Delores

    1. I’m sorry I didn’t see your comment earlier, Dee, but thank you! Seven daughters! Wow! I can’t imagine what your house would have been like when they were all at home! I shudder, but you must be so proud. Best wishes. xx

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