Dear EFY girls.

Lately my days are filled with teenagers clawing at the windows and door of my office, acting as if it doesn’t exist, or waving vigorously at me in hopes of response, like I did when I was five to cars behind ours. Their hairs are perfectly coiffed and their lips are perfectly glossed. It annoys me. I wish to invite every single one of them in and have a heart to heart about all the life lessons they need to learn, and quick! Let the rest of your life get started, for heaven’s sake. For your sake. I am only annoyed with them because I used to be one of them and those threads still run through my blood and guts and I can’t get rid of them.

Teenagerism was such an unfortunate time. I’m so glad I’m past the waking up at unholy hours just to do my hair for boys who didn’t notice me. I’m glad I can say no to kisses I don’t want and parties I could care less about. This chunk of me aches for that chunk of me—she went through so much, and for no real reason. Self-inflicted torture that was absolutely purposeless. In the wee small hours of the morning she was mourning in journal pages about deep stuff and horrifically not-deep stuff, regular old boring teenage thoughts of the most lemming brand.

How, how did we come out unscathed from the pit of poop that was early high school?

And now I can say that, of course, because I’m above it and out of it and can wrap my brain around it. When you’re swimming in that tar, it doesn’t seem toxic and stupid. It’s just your life. No one is around to tell you otherwise.

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Dear EFY girls,

I hope this week is wonderful for you. Don’t feel obligated to answer when people ask you who your COW is. Please focus on the spiritual nourishment you are receiving and not the boys who are escorting you. You don’t have to be in charge of their salvation. Don’t pick up project boys. They do not change. It is silly and you are far too smart for that; also, don’t worry if boys don’t ask you to slow dance all that often. You’ll never see them again, plus they are sweaty so you don’t even want that so bad, do you?

I lied about the never seeing him again part. He might be in your BYU ward later on, where he is still the heartthrob of the universe. It still doesn’t matter. Just be in charge of your own life and keep your sweat to yourself. Expect others to do the same.

My, how your life would be different if you focused on your gifts instead of how everyone else is digesting your outfit.

Love,

Brooke