When I was a child, I was chubby, had a perpetually flushed face, and was the least athletically coordinated human on the planet, or at least the worst at Saint Joseph School. In the nine years I attended Catholic school, wearing plaid skirts, knee socks, and black Oxford shoes, I can fondly remember playing with my friends and excelling in academics. But I also remember my struggles. I think about the advice I wish I had, and the advice I hope to pass on to my daughter. I wish I knew that what is written on your report card doesn’t matter in adulthood. I wish I knew that most of my classmates were feeling just as awkward as I was. I wish I knew that they made lasers for red cheeks that burned brighter than the fire of a thousand suns. I wish I had these gems of knowledge tucked in my back pocket, or more accurately, tucked in the elastic band of my knee socks. So here it is: the advice I would tell my younger self. Listen up, Little Jessica.

1. Get comfortable saying “No.”
“No” is the most powerful word in the English language. When you say “No,” it doesn’t mean you don’t want to help, that you don’t care about the needs of others, or that you dislike someone. “No” is putting your needs first, and not over-committing to everyone else’s requests. “No” is setting boundaries that you are comfortable with, and acknowledging that it is not your responsibility to make everyone else happy. “No” is asserting yourself to not be coerced into actions, thoughts, or beliefs that don’t suit you. “No” is a part of life, and a freeing part, at that. So say it to the playdates you don’t want. Say it to the group member who won’t do their share of the work. Say it to the lunch lady who gave you mashed potatoes when you asked for fries. Say it kindly. Say it confidently. Say it with respect. But you must learn to say it.

2. If you believe you can’t, then you’re right, you can’t.
One of the greatest tools I have discovered is the ability to manifest, which is the ability to create ideas into reality. You can literally speak your every desire into existence. New cars, healthy relationships, even a cup of coffee. I do it every day. Manifesting is the greatest key to unlocking every hope and dream you have for your life: but you must believe. So make sure your attitude is one of gratitude. Count your blessings. Literally count them. I list 10 things I am thankful for every night before bed. The more you’re thankful for, the more you find you have to be thankful for. The big things, the little things, the seemingly insignificant things. Be thankful for passing your spelling test, the butterfly you saw during recess, or for arriving safely home from school. Being thankful and appreciative is a critical component in the positive attitude that creates continued blessings. So count up those blessings, and manifest a few more while you’re at it.

3. Know your worth.
This is the hardest for me, as it seems to be for many of us. If you asked people what it means to know their worth, they may all have very different answers. For me, it means realizing that you are deserving of respect. It’s having the self-confidence to be able to walk away from a toxic person or situation because you know that you deserve better. You have the ability to determine your worth in every situation: with your friends, your family, and one day at your job or in a relationship. Acknowledging that you are worthy of respect is the greatest gift you can give yourself, and it is truly the gift that keeps on giving. You will walk a little taller and speak a little louder because you have the confidence of self-worth. Remember, you are deserving of all the blessings life has to offer, because you are worthy of receiving them.

It’s hard to be a kid. You’re always told what to do and how to do it. Sit down. Stop talking. Stand in line. Don’t touch that. Play with these people. Kick a dodgeball like you have any athletic ability whatsoever. I’m sure today’s kids have it harder in a world of iPhones, TikTok, and 9-year-olds with contoured makeup. I thought we had it rough in the late ‘90s, when my greatest envy was my friend with her own phone line. Truthfully, I’m grateful that chapter of my life is over. No more gym class, no more math homework, no more plaid uniforms. To this day, I can’t stomach an Oxford shoe. So when I think of Little Jessica, wading through childhood angst in nine long years of “Catholic plaid,” I want to assure her that there are answers to her problems. All that she worries about, has a solution. I want teach her to be humble, to learn to meditate, to appreciate the power of prayer, to learn to laugh at herself, to wear the sunscreen, and to remember that pooping in a public bathroom is not nearly as mortifying as she thinks it is. But mostly, I want to kiss Little Jessica on her bright red cheeks that she hates so much, and say to her, “Sweetheart, they have lasers for that.”

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