Chapter 9: Letters to My Younger (and Current) Self
Sometimes the wisdom we need most is the one we wish we could send back through time. If you could talk to your younger self—the scared kid trying to please, the lonely teen begging to be seen, the person crushed by adult chaos—what would you say? What would you want them to know about codependency, boundaries, and love?
I’ve been writing these letters for years. Some are full of forgiveness. Some are tough love. Others are just me rambling, trying to hold space for the parts of me that felt invisible, unworthy, or stuck.
Letter to the Me Who Couldn’t Say No
Dear Younger Me,
I know you think “no” is a dangerous word. Like it’ll crack the whole world apart if you say it. I get it—you’ve spent so long bending, folding, and disappearing so no one feels your edges. But here’s the secret: saying no isn’t breaking anything. It’s building boundaries for your broken pieces to heal.
You are not responsible for other people’s feelings. You are not the glue; you are not the fixer; you are not the problem. You don’t have to carry everyone else’s emotional luggage because it makes you “nice.” Nice is overrated. Being real is what counts.
I’m proud of you already—for surviving, for even reading this letter. I’m the messy, tired, kickass version of you standing in the future, waving and saying, “It’s okay to be you.” You will mess up. You’ll say yes again when you want to say no. You’ll lie sometimes to keep peace. We all do. But every time you try to protect yourself, you chip away at the old story. You’re doing better than you think.
Love,
You From the Future
