What I’d Tell My Younger Self

So many things.

By the time you reach your fifties, the life lessons stack up like stones along a winding path. Some smooth, some jagged, each one carried and placed with care—or sometimes dropped on your foot. And I know this much: even if I could travel back in time to whisper encouragement, warnings, or wisdom into the ear of my younger self, she probably wouldn’t listen.

Oh, she was so sure of herself. And at the very same time—so insecure, so lost. Funny how we can be both.

But if I could catch her eye for just one moment, I’d tell her what she could never quite believe: how deeply lovable she is. How her beauty is not determined by the number on a scale or the angles of her face. How worthy she is of chasing her wildest, most audacious dreams.

And here’s the conclusion I’ve landed on at almost 53 years old:

Start before you think you’re ready.

I’d tell her:You’re smart enough, even if you don’t believe it yet. You know just enough to begin. You’ll learn the rest along the way.

Because the truth is, it takes experience to know yourself. And the only way to gain that experience is to begin—even if the world tells you otherwise.

The moments I wasn’t ready—but grew anyway

When I look back, the biggest growth in my life came in the very moments I felt least prepared:

• Moving to a tiny village in Alaska

• Becoming a mom

• Quitting a job that felt safe but suffocating

• Starting a business with no roadmap

• Booking a one-way ticket to Africa

• Hiring someone before I thought I could afford it

• Saying yes to a coach

• Adopting a dog

• Buying a house

• Stepping into group fitness, yoga, yoga therapy, and life coaching (if you’d told my 20-year-old self that, she would have laughed you out of the room)

And yes—there were things I did too late: leaving a toxic relationship, ending friendships that drained me, believing in myself sooner. But all of it shaped me.

The truth about facing yourself

Here’s the hard part I’d want her to know: turning toward yourself isn’t always pretty. You’ll see the things you’d rather avoid—drinking too much, smoking, the judgmental voice, the gossip. But facing those truths will be the doorway into becoming the woman you can love and trust.

Pride—not the puffed-up kind, but the grounded kind—comes from that work. The kind that lets you cheer on others, too.

Because when you learn to be proud of yourself, you stop comparing. You stop sitting in the cage of victimhood, rattling the bars and blaming others for what you don’t have. You realize you’ve had the keys in your hand the whole time.

What I’d tell her now

So, to my younger self, I’d say this:

You have the keys. Use them.

You already know enough to begin. You already are enough to begin.

Go toward what lights you up, what gives you energy. Dream beyond the gas station counter. Dream beyond what others say is “realistic.” Take one small step, then another.

The path will unfold in ways you can’t yet imagine.

And here’s the best part: I am your older self. And I am living proof that it works.