Dear My Younger Self…

If I could sit down with my younger self — the girl who always felt a few steps behind, the one who carried too much pressure for her age and mistook perfection for love — I’d probably start by giving her a really long hug. The kind I now know you shouldn’t be the first to let go of.

Because she needed it. And she had no idea what was coming.

Younger me spent so much time thinking everyone else had the secret manual to life and she was somehow missing a page. She thought being the “eldest daughter,” the helper, the overachiever, the people pleaser meant she had to earn her place in every room. She didn’t see her own strength yet. She definitely didn’t see her future.

If only she knew.

I wish I could tell her that all the things she thought disqualified her would actually become her superpowers — her sensitivity, her determination, her desire to take care of people, her big dreams for something better.

I’d tell her that one day she’d have her dream jewelry stack — yes, that’s allowed to count as an accomplishment because younger you spent YEARS thinking that was for “cool girls,” not you. I’d tell her she’d marry the boy who feels like home and laugh with two incredible babies (plus the world’s cutest St. Bernedoodle) on a farm with a lake view so beautiful it looks like a stock photo.

I’d tell her she’d build a business from scratch, one grounded in her values, genuinely helping people and filled with clients she adores. That she’d live a life bigger than anything she was brave enough to imagine. And that she would get here not by being perfect, but by becoming herself.

I’d tell her that all those times she felt like the dumbest person in the room were actually the moments she was learning the most. That she’d grow into someone who trusts her own voice — even when it shakes. And that the life she has now? It didn’t require her to change who she was. Just to stop apologizing for it.

Mostly, I’d tell her:
You didn’t fall behind. You were becoming.
And the life you’re living now is proof that the path you took — messy, winding, imperfect — was exactly the right one.

If only she could see us now.