A Letter from Eighteen Telling Me Off

Synopsis

On my thirtieth birthday, my wedding was canceled. More precisely, my fiancé informed me, "Let's put the wedding on hold. You're not in the right state to get married right now." I stared at my phone screen for a long time, stunned. Half an hour earlier, I had just left the office. My project had been canceled, my team disbanded, and my boss told me to hand over the final proposal to the newly hired deputy director. I had worked on that proposal for nine months. On her first day taking over, she said at the meeting, "Thanks, Jo, for laying the groundwork. Next, I'll make this project truly youthful." Everyone clapped. I clapped twice along with them. That was just great. I was thirty, jobless, losing my marriage, and I still had to clap for the person who had taken the fruit of my labor. That evening, back in my rented apartment, the property management called and asked me to come downstairs to pick up a package. The cardboard box was covered in dust. The sender read 'Joanna Shaw at eighteen'. I opened it. Inside were a stack of letters, an old MP3 player, and a Polaroid photo. On the back of the photo, my eighteen-year-old self had scrawled in bold handwriting: [To me at thirty: If you've turned out amazing, praise me. If you've turned out pathetic, listen to the first recording.] I pressed play. In my earphones came the clear voice of my eighteen-year-old self. She said, "Joanna Shaw, if you've let men, bosses, or some damn sense of dignity turn you into a doormat, I will come through time to yell at you."