What would you tell your younger self?
Like many people, my husband and I have spent a lot of this weekend watching Glastonbury highlights on the BBC. On Friday evening we tuned into Elbow’s 2011 performance on the Pyramid Stage, and I found myself flooded with nostalgia. You see, I was lucky enough to be in the crowd for that moving and memorable sunset set 9 years ago. I stood in that field and sang along with Guy Garvey, surrounded by all of my friends and my now husband, who I’d been dating for around 8 or 9 months at the time.
It wasn’t my first trip to Worthy Farm, but it felt like a poignant one - I’d just finished uni and I could see my new life creeping in across the horizon. In fact, it was while bellowing out the lyrics to One Day Like This that I found out my degree results, the trusty 2:1 that I’d worked so hard for now firmly in the bag. I remember how juxtaposed I felt that weekend - on the surface, I was embracing the Glastonbury spirit, dancing, laughing, staying up to watch the sunrise, but deep down, I felt all at sea. A change was coming, and I felt full of fear and apprehension at the very thought.
I don’t think it’s uncommon to feel like that when you’re 21. It felt like I’d only just started to find my feet, figuring out who I was and what I liked, and suddenly along came all of this pressure to launch a career and find a place to live and become the sort of person who understands tax and savings and how to build a great reputation at work. I’ll admit that this pressure didn’t really come from anyone other than me, but for some reason, I’d internalised the idea that the end of uni meant the start of real life, and that meant that I had to get serious. I was wearing sequins and dancing on the outside, but on the inside it felt like the countdown clock to adulthood was loudly ticking.
Falling down that rabbit hole of memories and reflecting on how I felt on that sunny June weekend in 2011 got me thinking about what I wish I could tell 21 year old Sophie. About what advice I’d give that version of me who was so serious and scared and nervous about what the future would hold. I think I’d start by telling her not to worry - I’d let her know that everything would work out just fine. Because it has - 21 year old me would be so proud of what my life looks like right now.
I’d tell her to loosen the grip a little, to let go of the plan, to let life unfold in it’s own unique and curious way instead of always trying to control everything. I’d remind her that life isn’t a big game of Monopoly, that there are no prizes available for picking up all of the shiny achievements and milestone moments as quickly as possible. Instead it’s an experience - something to be savoured and enjoyed and felt.
I’d remind 21 year old Sophie that she was still so very young, that she didn’t have to have everything figured out just yet. I’d tell her to trust her instincts more - to listen to the nagging feeling in her stomach, even when it goes against everything that we’ve been taught. I’d encourage her to follow her curiosity, to have more fun, to stray from the beaten path every now and then.
It’s strange, but in many ways it feels like I’m coming back to that younger version of me at the moment - the person I was before I dove headfirst into a corporate career and everything that came with it. It feels like I spent the majority of my twenties pulling myself in a different direction - trying to be the serious, sensible, successful person I thought I had to be. And now, at the beginning of my thirties and 6 months into my new career as a coach, I feel like I’m coming home - re-embracing the very essence of that person I was at 21.
It’s funny, but I feel younger now than I did when I was 23 or 24. I’m more fun, because I have more time and energy to be. I’m more creative, despite years of trying to bury that creativity deep down within me. I’m more authentically me than I have been for a very, very long time, perhaps ever. I wish I could go back and show 21 year old me this version of adulthood - a version that feels so much more carefree and exciting and energising than I knew it could be. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have been so scared if she knew it could be like this.
I’m curious to know - what do you wish you could tell your younger self? What knowledge or wisdom have you acquired over the years that you wish you could share? And what lessons can you cling onto, whatever phase of life you find yourself in?
