^{Originally published on BabyCenter.com June 13, 2014}

I often have imaginary conversations with my 18-year-old self. The 18-year-old version of me is a kid who is stuck in the worst year of his life, suffering through an abusive relationship, and in a spiral of depression that he is not getting any help for.

He’s also a smartass who thinks he knows everything there is to know about life.

My 18-year-old self never plans on getting married and abhors the concept of having children. Marriage is just a piece of paper, and this planet is already overpopulated. Having kids means losing sleep and freedom.

Most of the time, my conversations with my 18-year-old self are spent explaining to this kid how wrong he is about the world. Yes, college is in fact a useful experience that will help you grow as a person. No, you do not forgive somebody who tries to strangle you. Realizing that you need to get out of a relationship doesn’t mean that you’ve failed.

When it comes to marriage and kids, though, my 18-year-old self is sort of right. However, he’s way too focused on the superficial parts of those things. So my imaginary conversations in those cases usually begin with, “Yes, but…”

My 18-year-old self thinks that marriage is pointless because you don’t need a ceremony and a piece of paper to know that you love somebody. And the fact is that I had been living with my wife for four years before we got married, and our relationship didn’t change all that much after I put the ring on my finger. But my 18-year-old self doesn’t know how cool the experience was. My wedding wasn’t a ceremony I had to go through, but rather one that my wife and I wanted to go through. It was a day to celebrate our love, to recognize everything we were, and to acknowledge all the family and friends who had shaped our lives. It was by far the best day of my life – up until the birth of my children topped it.

My 18-year-old self hates kids. Well, that’s not exactly true. He actually likes entertaining kids, but he’s terrified of the idea of having his own. He’s got the notion in his head that kids tie you down and keep you from living your own life. He doesn’t want the responsibility of caring for a child, he’s afraid of the consequences that come from screwing up, and most importantly he doesn’t want to lose his precious free time.

Again, he’s not totally wrong about this. Parenting is an intimidating task. And when you’re a parent, you can kiss a lot of your free time goodbye. I sleep less, I write less, and I work more now that I have kids.

But I also enjoy the experience of life a lot more. I care more about other people and about the planet I live on. I make sure to get outside and plan field trips and visit with family. I form more connections with other people. Most importantly, I get to see two fascinating children develop step by step into wonderful human beings.

My 18-year-old self isn’t wrong about marriage and kids, but he’s not seeing the whole picture. He’s a blind man touching an elephant.

I used to be able to write an entire novel in a month and a half, revisions and all. Now it sometimes takes me a month just to finish a chapter. I used to be able to sleep until noon on the weekends. Videos games used to be something I enjoyed. Now I don’t think I own a game that was even made this decade.

This situation seemed like a nightmare scenario when I was 18, but that’s only because I didn’t realize how petty and small my desires really were or what sort of wonderful things would replace them. I didn’t know how much fun it could be to take my kids to an apple orchard or help my son ride his first bike or just spend the afternoon rolling around on the floor with them.

I have these talks with my 18-year-old self because I like to imagine going back in time and providing comfort and guidance to somebody who desperately needed it. Unfortunately, my 18-year-old self never listens to me. He can’t – it’s impossible to comprehend something unless you understand it first. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. But someday, he will.

Featured Image: Chris Bloom, CC BY-SA 2.0, cropped and resized