A Letter Across Time: What I’d Say to My Younger Self and Why You Should Try It Too
As I approach 45, I’ve been doing the kind of reflection that sneaks up on you in the middle of brushing your teeth. A quiet, unplanned audit of life. Not about accomplishments or goals, but about perspective. How I see things now, and how wildly different that view is from the one I had at 18.
A few weeks ago, I was listening to CBC Radio One (because I’m old like that), and one of the guests mentioned an interesting exercise she would recommend: write a letter to your younger self.
It sounded a little dramatic at first and a bit too “hippie” for my taste, but the more I thought about it, I figured it would be interesting to see how that conversation would look. At 18, you’re pretty headstrong and think you know it all, so I was interested, now that I’m a little more “seasoned,” how that conversation would look. This is the first I’ve mentioned to anyone that I’ve done this, but I sat down, opened a blank page, and wrote to 18-year-old me. (Yes, it was paper and not typed.)
No, I won’t share the letter here. Even in this day and age, it’s nice to keep some things private. I will say, I went in thinking it would be a 44-ish-year-old person who knows very little talking to an 18-year-old who thought he knew everything. But I’ll tell you this: the process was way more interesting than I anticipated. It was funny, introspective, and surprisingly refreshing.
So what is the biggest lesson I learned? You don’t need to have it all figured out to move forward.
Seriously. At 18, I thought life came with this giant, invisible checklist, and if you didn’t hit certain milestones by a certain age, you were doing it wrong. Turns out, life isn’t a checklist. It’s more like a scavenger hunt. We spend so much of our early adulthood trying to project certainty. We pretend to know what we’re doing because everyone else seems to. But now, at almost 45, I’ve realized most of us are winging it. Just with better jobs, worse cardio, and slightly improved coping mechanisms.
To put it bluntly, in life, you get a bit of horseshit and a bit of honey (hopefully more of the latter). Writing to my younger self reminded me of the winding detours life took, and how each one, even the ones I’d rather forget, shaped who I’ve become. If you’ve never done this kind of exercise, I highly recommend it. You don’t have to write it like a Hallmark movie. Be honest. Be sincere. Most importantly, be fair to yourself. Don’t try to rewrite the past. Just acknowledge it.
Because in the end, the past isn’t something to fix. It’s something to understand. And maybe even appreciate, for all its awkward, uncertain brilliance.
So here’s to coming up on 45. Older, yes. Wise? Maybe. Still figuring things out? Definitely. But I’m coming to realize… that’s the point.
Go Oilers Go.
Thanks for reading. - Robin Nasserdeen
