If my younger self only knew.
The Letter I Wish I Could Send My Younger Self
I wonder sometimes what my younger self would think if he could see my life today.
He’d have a lot of questions, I suspect. Some of the answers would surprise him.
I didn’t picture any of this back then. I had big dreams and a pretty clear idea of what success was supposed to look like. Life had a few other ideas.
Some of what I wanted worked out. Some didn’t, no matter how badly I wanted it or how hard I worked for it. Then came the things I never saw coming, which ended up meaning more to me than anything I’d planned.
If I could sit down with that younger version of me, I think I’d mostly want to listen. I’d remember what it felt like to carry so many questions about the future and have so little idea what was coming.
Before I told him anything else, I’d tell him to relax a little.
He’s got quite a life ahead of him.
You’re going to leave
First, you’re going to get out of that town you’ve been so anxious to leave.
You’ll travel 3,000 miles to Los Angeles, a place you’ve imagined for years, and find out pretty quickly that living somewhere is very different from dreaming about it.
You’ll work hard. Really hard. You’ll chase opportunities that mean the world to you and pour everything you have into them. Some will pay off.
Others won’t. I wish I could tell you those disappointments won’t bother you. They will. There’ll be times you question your decisions and wonder if you should have taken a different road.
I wouldn’t try to talk you out of those feelings. They’re part of growing up (and, frankly, part of growing older).
What I’d tell you is this: the things that don’t work out aren’t necessarily failures. You won’t see that right away. Sometimes it takes years before you can look back and understand what an experience taught you.
I know that sounds like something an older person would say.
Well, I am that older person now. Turns out there’s some truth to it.
You’re going to lose things
There’s something else I need to prepare you for, and I’m not sure there’s any way to make it easier.
You’re going to lose everything you own.
Twice.
I remember how frightening that was. When you’re trying to figure out how to start over, you don’t want to hear about resilience or the lessons adversity is supposed to teach you. You just want to know how you’re going to get through it.
You will get through it.
You’ll find your footing and rebuild. Eventually you’ll look back on those years with a perspective you couldn’t possibly have had while you were living them.
Keep your eyes open
I don’t want you thinking the whole trip is going to be hard.
You’re going to have some extraordinary experiences. You’ll see places you never imagined and meet people whose names you’ve known since you were a kid. A few of them will be your heroes.
I’m happy to report most of them turn out to be every bit as remarkable as you hoped.
But pay attention to what’s happening around those big moments, too.
As you get older, you’ll notice that a lot of your favorite memories have very little to do with the occasion you thought was so important at the time. It’ll be the person who took an interest in you, or something someone said that stuck with you for years. An unexpected kindness. A place you almost skipped.
I wish I could tell you which moments to watch for. That’s the wonderful thing about them, though. You usually don’t know how much they matter until later.
So keep your eyes open. Be curious about people and listen to their stories.
There’s an enormous amount of life happening outside whatever you’ve put on your calendar. Don’t miss it.
Then something much more important happens
You’re going to become a dad.
I could spend the rest of this letter on everything else that’s coming, and none of it would come close to what this will mean to you.
I know how much you’ve thought about the kind of father you wished you’d had growing up.
Well, you’re going to get the chance to be that father.
You’ll build a family you absolutely adore, and they’ll adore you right back. That’s a pretty wonderful thing to experience.
I wish you could see them now.
There’ll be moments when you look at them and feel a kind of happiness you didn’t know was possible.
Work will still matter to you. A new opportunity will still get you excited about what you might do with it. That’s part of who you are, and I wouldn’t ask you to change it.
But the people in your life will give all of it a different meaning.
The older you get, the more you’ll appreciate the simple pleasure of being with people you love. A good life has a lot less to do with how impressive it looks from the outside than you once believed.
I think you’re going to like that part of growing older.
You don’t need to know how it ends
One thing I remember about being young is how badly I wanted to know what came next. I wanted some assurance that the choices I was making would lead somewhere worthwhile.
I still get that feeling. There are things I’d love to know about the years ahead, and plenty I still hope to do.
But I’ve lived long enough to see that some of the best parts of my life showed up as complete surprises.
There will be hard years. You’ll lose things you thought you couldn’t live without, and people and circumstances will let you down (occasionally, so will you).
I wish I could spare you some of that. I also know what else is waiting for you.
You’ll laugh until your sides hurt. Friends will become part of your life in ways you never saw coming, and the world will keep handing you new reasons to be excited about it.
What matters is being able to recognize the good that’s still there, even in the hard seasons.
And there will be so much good.
So, younger self
I’ve given you a lot to think about.
Probably not what you were hoping for. You’d have preferred a few clear answers and some tips on dodging the mistakes ahead.
Sorry about that.
If I could leave you with anything, it would be this.
Enjoy being young. There’s no need to rush through it.
Spend time with people you care about. Take the chances that matter to you, even when you’re not sure how they’ll turn out.
And go easier on yourself when something doesn’t work. You’ll make mistakes and change your mind about things you once felt sure of. That’s okay. I hope you always stay willing to learn.
Most of all, hold on to your empathy and your curiosity. They’ll serve you well wherever life takes you.
I can’t tell you everything is going to work out the way you want.
It won’t.
But one day you’ll look back on this life, with all its unexpected turns, and feel enormously grateful you got to live it.
And if you’re wondering whether it’s all going to be okay…
Yes, it is.
Actually, it’s going to be pretty magical.
If any part of this letter resonates with you, I hope you’ll take a little time to reflect on your own journey. The experiences that shaped you, the people who helped you along the way, and the things you still want to discover.
That’s part of what being deliberately human means to me. Staying curious, learning from life, and remembering what matters.
There’s more of this conversation.
Live Deliberately,
