Recently, I shared a letter to my younger self of all the things I thought she needed to hear. All the warnings I had, the encouragement, the honest truths that I learned the hard way.
Today, I want to share this which I wrote later…after a little more distance and healing.
It doesn’t offer advice and it doesn’t warn or guide her.
It just sees her. No need for protection, no judgement, no excuses. Both pieces are important, necessary, true.
So, I’m sharing this, too. Because healing doesn’t happen all at once in one specific way.
It can be messy, confusing, and all over the place. And that’s ok.
You know when people say, “If I could tell my younger self one thing…” and then offer words of warning, encouragement, strength, wisdom, or sass?
Well, for a long time, I had a lot I would have written in a letter to my younger self. I would have tried hard to warn her off of certain places and people, steer her clear from certain things. I would write pages and pages – hell, I would have written a whole damn book trying to “save” the innocent girl I once knew.
I would have told the little girl who knew she was different all along that it was all going to be okay.
I would have written to the angry preteen in middle school that hiding from herself wouldn’t work out the way she planned.
I would have told the high school freshman that even though everything was about to change, that she could handle it.
I would have told the senior who stopped showing up (in more ways than one) that numbing the pain wouldn’t make it disappear.
I would have told the young adult who partied too hard and too often that she was enough…even sober.
I would have told the first-time mom that she could do this, and was meant to.
I would have told the imperfect mom and wife that struggling with mental health was nothing to be ashamed of.
And I would have told younger Kassie at every stage: You are worth fighting for, no matter what anyone else thinks or says.
And I would have also told her this (and so many other things):
Even though I can’t undo the ways I hurt others along the way…the words I said, the silence I kept, the damage I didn’t know how to stop…I carry those regrets with me.
Not to shame myself forever, but to remember. To stay accountable.
Because I can’t change the past, but I can choose how I live going forward.
But now?
I don’t think I’d say anything at all.
I think I’d just give her a hug, a soft smile, and send her on her way.
Because she was capable all along.
Because she was enough.
Because she was strong.
Because she made it through it all…without any extra preparation or warning.
She found her way.
And even if I could spare her the pain, even if I wanted to…
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
Because suffering is part of this life of ours. And while so much of that feels unfair, it’s the truth of being human.
Even the most painful and difficult experiences become part of the fabric of our lives.
They shape us. Stretch us. Build us.
Who would we be without the moments that nearly broke us?
Where would we stand without the circumstances that tested us?
We endure.
We stumble.
We learn.
We grow.
It’s the only way forward.
I found my way, am still finding it. And maybe, if you’re still in the thick of it, you will too.
You are not alone.
You are worth fighting for.
You are enough.
So if you’re carrying your own regrets, or trying to hold together the pieces of a life that’s felt too hard
I hope you know:
You’re not broken.
You’re human.
That’s more than enough.
-the mom with the forehead tattoo
Leave a Reply