Notes to a former self

A good friend of mine recently found this photo of me that she’d taken when we were at university. The photo caused a flood of memories — not so much around the specific moment as I don’t remember where the hell it was taken or what road trip we were on — but about that younger version of myself, and what I have, and haven’t, wised up to since then.

I feel like these months have stripped me bare, having lost so many of the trappings that I use to prop up my ego. Some weeks I feel lost in it all and have a hard time feeling focused or positive about anything. Other moments feel like a ray of light comes out showing me the way forward. But through it all this sense of being raw. This kind of vulnerability reveals the throughlines of self.

So what would I tell the me in the photo? That she can relax and play more. She will find love, marry, and create a family. That a beautiful, creative, and eclectic home in California waits, and then it will be outgrown and reborn in completely unexpected ways in Italy. That the group of friends she met at college who felt like family would not be the first or only experience of such connection and that I’d be lucky enough to have people in my life who see me as I am and still love me. I’d tell her to take more risks. Fall in love more often. Look up more often. And above all, that striving for perfection is no life at all.

Sounds so easy when I look at the photo. But here I am, with the same unnamed fear somewhere behind my heart that she had, and a familiar litany in my head that differs in specifics but not in tone — I haven’t used this time to grow our business, blast Itch into the millions of readers and film and book deals, lose weight and get in the best shape of my life, become fluent in Italian, pick every weed in the garden, and more. And thus I am somehow less than.

And here we come to the wising up part. Mostly I am thankful that this period is tough as the times I change the most are when being the same is too hard. I feel like it is time for the ultimate showdown with the boring voice and its litany of ways I’m not perfect. That it’s more interesting to be in the moment and to celebrate the things that make me who I am and bring me pleasure.

I am spending time with the discomfort, attempting to meditate, reading a lot, and comparing notes with others. I’d love to hear from any of you who are confronting discomfort what is working for you.

Because when the future me looks at a photo of the current me I want her to say “That’s when you learned to trust and relax inside. When you really started to have fun, love yourself and be completely who you are.” And I probably won’t arrive there this week, or next month, as the voice of perfection would like, but I am closer than I was.