Letter to My Current Self

My younger self is long gone, and my older self is not here yet. 

Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

I want to write a letter to myself. 

I know that there are many letters written to our younger selves. This is great in terms of things learned and advice possible.

 But I also know that advice is a gift that is not easily received. Timing is everything. I believe that we each need to go through our own journeys in life and to learn our own lessons at our own pace.

So, with that in mind, perhaps my current self might listen to things that my Wiser Self may have to say. I mean, we are both the same age and are very close, most of the time. So, why not?

So, self, these are some things that I want to tell you.

You are exactly where you need to be right now.

The regrets that you ruminate over are a way of continuing to punish yourself and to stop you from living your fullest life in the present moment. You made mistakes, yes. You did the best that you could to figure out what to do at the time. You can’t go back, so continuing to beat yourself up doesn’t change anything, cannot undo what was done. You need to forgive yourself. I know that is easier said than done. But this self-flagellation is not serving you. It’s not allowing you to fully inhabit your life. Time grows short. Hear me on this one. 

Your body is changing. It’s hard to accept, I know. You didn’t appreciate the body of your youth and what it was. It’s too late for that. You have a body that is your present home now. No, it’s not as smooth, toned, fit, or agile as it once was. It still deserves your love, attention, and affection. It still carries you around, lets you experience this sacred earth, lets you feel the warmth of the sun, the softness of touch, the feel of rain, the grass beneath your feet. 

You have always been a quieter person, and felt somehow less than because of that. It’s time that you learn to embrace that in yourself and come to appreciate the power in that quietness. You were not heard in your youth, not listened to as much as those that might have been louder. It’s true. But to not listen to yourself now and to not appreciate that being quiet is a perfectly wonderful way to be, that would be tragic. When quiet speaks, it usually comes from depth. 

You are afraid of getting older, afraid of dying. I understand that. Really, I do. And you are somewhat surprised to have reached this age. But you did. You are still alive. You still have time on this earth. You are still here. 

You fret about not having enough time or energy to do the things that you always wanted to do. And sometimes you get too depressed to even try to do some of those things. The weight of that is heavy in your body and your soul. I can feel that. 

Listen to me.

You write and paint now. You can get into berating yourself for not having done these things sooner. You don’t feel that you are good enough in these things. You compare yourself to those more seasoned and educated in both art and the written word. 

But you are painting. You are doing it. You are even in an art association that participates in art shows, and you are daring to show up for those. Good for you. Stop comparing yourself. It’s not a contest. It’s an expression of who you are that has longed to come out for your entire life.

The same with writing. You sometimes feel like saying what’s the use? The use is that you are letting your voice out, the voice that has been shut down for so long. You are telling your truth. Again, this is not a contest. This is you finally coming alive to your essence. And have you noticed that you get responses from some who are genuinely touched by your writing? 

You have not been a fan of conflict and have done much to avoid it in your life thus far. There was no room for dissent growing up in your family, but that didn’t stop you from having your own feelings and opinions about things, even if you didn’t express them. You are expressing them now. You did what you had to do to feel safe and to survive. And you did survive. Give yourself credit for that. 

You have been called too sensitive. Oh, how you didn’t realize that this is one of the greatest compliments of all. To be sensitive, to feel the pain of others, the joy around you, the suffering in the world, the whisper of the wind through the trees. This is a precious gift. It is something that others love about you as well. That is an honor to be trusted by others with their vulnerabilities. To be trusted to hear them and to hold those precious parts of them tenderly inside you. 

Your kindness has been ridiculed in the past.

 Your kindness is a superpower. It is kindness that can heal, that can bring people together. It is so very underrated. Embrace and celebrate your kindness. We need much more of that in our world today. 

Boundaries. This has been a tough one for you. Boundaries were not allowed growing up. Consequently, you struggled with that. But you are setting them now. You say when you have had enough. You say when something is not ok. So what if it takes you a bit of time to think about it and respond? That’s ok. We each have our own time and rhythm. You take your time. That can be good, in that you end up saying more of what you really feel and really mean, having had time to clarify it all for yourself. You speak your truth in your own time. And your time is perfectly fine. 

Relationships. You can get into berating yourself for a marriage that ended in divorce. But you were married for 12 years. You learned, you loved, you grew. And you had to leave to keep growing for yourself. You berate yourself for other relationships that you have been in and that you are no longer in, comparing yourself to those that have been together most of their lives. That is wonderful for them. It was not your path. There were things you needed to learn, and to learn them on your own. You have learned.

You question your ability to really love. 

You have loved deeply and then loved differently when the relationship ended. There has been love, which will always remain in some form or another inside you. Each relationship that you have been in has been valuable and important to get you where you are now. You needed to go through what you did to get to where you are. 

You have a deep love, more and more as you age, for the earth and its plants and animals. You feel their presence inside you. You connect quietly with the soul of the Universe. You become one with it. There are so many ways to love and so many forms of love. Do not judge yourself by one standard only. There is more to you than that. 

You have been afraid to be all that you can be. You fear your own light and power and aliveness. You learned to dim yourself.

There is time enough for dimness when you are no longer here. It is time to finally allow those parts of you to shine, to express themselves, to simply be. To give yourself permission to be all that you can be. To fulfill whatever purpose you are here for. To be your unique, authentic self. 

So, I say to you, let’s do this. I am with you. Let’s truly live this one precious life that we have, however long we have left. 

And through all of this, remember that you are loved.

8 thoughts on “Letter to My Current Self

  1. I’ve said many of those same words to myself. I have berated myself for not doing some things and for doing others. I also am still learning how to appreciate what I have learned. I know what you mean. It’s an ongoing process for sure.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Recently I listened to a novel wherein one character is trying to explain why he is no longer contemplates suicide. After considering whether there is any afterlife, he decides that this life–the one he has now–is the only life he’ll ever have, that to believe in an afterlife is too risky. He might be wrong, and he’ll have wasted the time he has left. I am trying that philosophy on, seeing if it fits. This character (who is dying of pancreatic cancer) also asks rhetorically: Why should I regret a mistake I made 30 years ago when I have so little time left? I want to embrace that way of thinking since I (still) spend too much time berating myself for mistakes I made and cannot unmake.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Yes, I think that keeping our “companions” of grief and mortality close by helps us focus on living in the present…and truly enjoying what we can while we still can. Absolutely! Thanks, Marie!

    Like

Leave a comment