Who, in their right mind, likes getting mail? From my experience, mail is just another form of debt collection. Even during this very merry time of year, mail is just a deck of cards shuffled with bills and color-coordinated families wishing me Happy Holidays, or, if they are so bold, a Merry Christmas.
I opted out of sending a family card this season. When I started stressing, in September no less, about locking in a photographer to take a winter-themed picture of my family, I knew I was biting off more than I can chew. I then downgraded my idea to a JCPenny photoshoot, thinking I’d make up for the fake canvas background with a pricey metallic-gold card stock, but before I knew it, Thanksgiving had come and gone and I had yet to book the appointment. From there, I settled on using my son’s picture-day photo, but it still didn’t solve for the hours I’d waste crafting and ordering the card. In the end, I bought a pack of cards from Rite Aid and haphazardly signed each with ‘The Ralph’s’. Not ‘Love, The Ralphs’ or even a ‘Warm Wishes, The Ralphs’. Just ‘The Ralphs’. If I had the energy, I would have signed them ‘Regards, The Ralph’s’, a true complimentary closing to my current mood. But instead, I popped them in the mail to my family and to people who I know keep score on this kind of thing, signed ‘The Ralphs’.
I crossed ‘Mail Christmas cards’ off my to-do list, and dedicated my 2024 New Year Resolution to doing less.
When I was 26, I received a weathered business envelope in the mail. It was strange to be receiving anything other than a bill or a past due bill, but more strangely was who it came from - me. I was looking at a letter sent to me, from me. Where did it come from? Is the matrix real? I was living in Las Vegas at the time, so I couldn’t completely rule out a black out party night where I may have written myself a letter just to mess with myself.
I open the envelop and find a letter I wrote junior year of high school. It was an English class project, where I had to write a letter from my future self, a decade ahead to be exact, to my 16 year old self, about what had become of me. My teacher stored these letters for 10 years, and mailed them to us when the time came. Pretty cool, right? I thought so, too, until I read the letter and realized I had not measured up to my teenage expectations.
I start the letter talking about how much a gallon of gas goes for these days, and what a cheeseburger at McDonalds cost, both requirements of the assignment to see if we could guess the amounts, but then I get into what I was up to.
I told my 16 year old self that after college at Hofstra, I landed a high-paying job at an advertising firm in Boston. I was working with some of the brightest minds out there, myself included, to craft inspiring and revenue-driving ad campaigns for Fortune 500 companies. I had a boyfriend that worshipped the ground I walked on, and we’d travel to exotic places like Easter Island. Neither of us wanted children, because a child would stifle our growth. So I had a cat instead, a fancy designer cat, a Ragdoll. I was living my own Lifetime movie.
I read through the letter a couple of times, feeling horrible about my current status. The truth is, I did get into Hofstra, but my parents made a power play for an in-state school. I wondered if that was the catalyst for the outcome, the fork in the road. After college at Penn State, I did try to land a marketing job in Boston. I applied for a position called Sales and Marketing Director at a small Boston firm, and even interviewed, but after spending a day in the field to understand the role, I realized it was a pyramid scheme of street soliciting spa packages. So I took any job that seemed stable and would have me. At 26, I found myself working for an insurance company in Las Vegas, and I hated it. I moved into a house with two South African men I found on Craigslist, which is where I also found my free cat - a black and white devil of a cat with a missing leg - and was as single as a dollar bill. I was dating, but dating in Las Vegas is rough terrain (REWORD). Finding a guy with a stable job was the benchmark, I wasn’t even thinking about a man that would worship me.
As I stacked my future self and my actual self side by side, the only thing I got right was my view of kids. I still found them stifling.
It’s been 14 more years since receiving that letter, and a lot has changed. For starters, I have a kid now, and he has been stifling from time to time, but I’m okay with it. I think back to my time in Las Vegas. Shortly after receiving that letter, I decided to start studying for the GMAT. I started saving money. I was creating a game plan to save myself. While my future self didn’t come to fruition in the slightest, I have to thank her for coming back to give me a swift kick in the ass.
