When she was 58, Oprah Winfrey wrote these words to her 19-year-old self: "Dear beautiful, brown-skinned girl… The truth is, he's intimidated. You don't know this, though, because you can see yourself only through his eyes. A lesson you'll have to learn again and again: to see yourself with your own eyes, to love yourself from your own heart."
As we look back at our own lives, what were the things we wished we knew? What were the pitfalls we wished we avoided? Do we have lingering regrets, or have we accepted that life is what it is — unpredictable, fraught with pitfalls but still a beautiful journey?
Check out the latest episode of Sunday Vibes @ NST to catch the hosts' light-hearted and occasionally contemplative sharing on the growing "pains" of becoming an adult!
The Sunday Vibes podcast is now on Audio+. Download the app to listen to this episode and all future episodes, as well as to access other great content from the Media Prima Audio stable. For this latest episode, go to: https://player.whooshkaa.com/episode?id=906558.
DEAR SELF
Elena Koshy, senior writer and host of Sunday Vibes podcast.
Dear 21-year-old me,
I have to level with you: things are going to be really, really, hard. Sometimes they're going to be awful, and a few times they're going to be unbearable. The only wisdom I have is that that's how it goes. But if you wait it out, it always gets better. Life has a way of righting itself. Just wait and see.
It saddens me that you're so concerned with the shape of your body and how you might someday deserve the love of a man. But I also understand (and have the proof in writing) that we're all fools, in one way or another, at the age of 21. You'll find out eventually that loving yourself is the most important lesson of all. Sometimes, that's all you'll ever need.
I can see the turmoil of early adulthood; when so much seems possible, and yet while you're trying to figure out which life door to approach and how to pry it open, a trapdoor appears under your feet, and you end up in a future you didn't plan for.
As we get older, there are less obvious choices. But know this: you'll be happy. There is a happily-ever-after in your story — only it's not in the form you've been expecting. There are no white picket fences, no Richard Dean Anderson waiting at the door with your dream children. Instead, you'll be single, and you'll have a dog called Abby. It's really not a bad deal.
The dream you had when you were 13? You'll get there eventually. You'll become a writer and let me tell you this, seeing your byline in the newspapers will never get old! So, try not to worry so much about your career, your weight, your finances, your future, etc. It all works out. We're warriors, not worriers!
I'd also have you know this: there's surprisingly very little I'd change about your life and the choices you make over the years. Some were spectacularly bad decisions (you'll be dating "Satan" in a couple of years!) and some were, thankfully, wise choices. Anyhow, they've all led you to the person I am today. And I'm very grateful.
So, hang in there. Stay cool, keep singing in the shower and dreaming big dreams!
OF BALLS AND BAWLS
Intan Maizura Ahmad Kamal, editor and host of Sunday Vibes podcast.
Growing up, I was one of those youngsters who could never get enough of sports. While my girlfriends were drooling over boys and boy bands, I was more interested in chasing balls around. No, not THOSE balls! I mean, football, netball, tennis ball… get the drift?
Much to my parents' chagrin, I wasn't interested in being a girly-girl. My idea of a good time was running around the padang with my sports-loving mates, getting sweaty and high on adrenaline, rather than being the dutiful daughter in a dress.
Throughout my high school years, netball was my main game. If I could wear my Goal Attack bib to bed, I probably would have! I loved the game so much that when it was time to discuss a career path during a Form Six career fair, I told anyone who'd listen that my ambition was to be a professional netball player.
Suffice it to say, many eyes rolled. Including my father's, who was completely aghast at my career choice. Being a legal eagle, he was adamant that I'd pursue law. And being the stubborn daughter, I was just as adamant that I wouldn't.
My favourite memories include playing for a team in a London netball league for ladies from the ages of 18 and above. I was 15. But hey, no one needed to know. I remember the first time the team's van arrived to pick me up and I came face to face with my new teammates.
As the transport screeched to a halt, I recall jauntily sliding open the door to clamber up to my seat, only to discover, to my horror, 15 pairs of eyes belonging to a sea of gigantic women from the West Indies staring at me with bemusement.
Seconds ticked before the silence was broken by a familiar Jamaican drawl: "Are you lost, child?" It was at that moment I wished the ground would've swallowed me. Or that I'd had enough swag to come up with a clever retort.
Neither happened. But guess what? After that baptism of fire, this slight Asian girl went on to be a regular fixture in this "big black girls'" team! My dream to become a professional netball player? Never materialised. If it had, I wouldn't be writing this story as an NST journalist!
But I'm not complaining. And besides, I can't still be going to bed in my Goal Attack bib at this stage of my life now, can I?
