A Letter From my 10 Year Old Self

Written in 2020.

A lot of people write letters to their younger selves, or think about what they wish they knew. Lately, I wish for just the opposite.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I can learn from my younger self — from the kid within me.

Here’s what I think my 10-year-old self would say to me today.

I wish I could tell you a few things.

I wish I could tell you a few things that you sometimes forget, and in some cases, have seemed to forgotten entirely.

I wish I could tell you to explore again.

To not resist the urge to make a vision board, a new workspace —choreograph a dance or song just because. To take up a new hobby for no reason at all, remember to read books just to read them and not because they are furthering your career or your mind—not be afraid to go “off-brand” with your music, your style, your interests—your life.

I wish I could tell you to stop trying to box yourself into whatever you think you’re supposed to be doing—for your resume, for others, for society—for you. Just be—explore.

I wish I could tell you to do things just to do them.

To quit wearing an outfit for the photo, making the dinner so someone can see it—feeling the need to share your “cool” life (like literally what are you doing??). To do things because you just want to do them, learn a new hobby because you just want to learn it—go on a hike because you just want to do it. To cook or eat something delicious just because you feel like it and not because it’s nutritious or part of your plan.

I wish I could tell you to stop trying to show off your life. I wish I could tell you to think harder about what you would do if truly, no one else could see. I wish I could tell you to do whatever that is.

I wish I could tell you to live a little more.

To stop planning so much, treating your days like a perfectly planned and color-coded Google calendar—to take the time to go outside and explore. To be spontaneous with your days off, to do things because you’d like to do them—to quit living by a checklist.

I wish I could tell you that life goes on if you don’t follow your plan. That life is sometimes better when you just play—when you go outside for hours on end and make-believe and run around and get dirty and forget the clock and just live.

I wish I could tell you to not be afraid to get excited again.

To jump around with excitement when a new album comes out, to giggle when your dog greets you at the end of the day—to leap when you find out exciting news.

I wish I could tell you that it’s okay to feel big and feel hard. To not be afraid to get excited and have passion for the little things.

I wish I could tell you to dream again.

To not limit yourself to what you have always done or thought you should always do. To give yourself permission to go after the things you want—even if those things change.

I wish I could tell you to not be afraid of your own evolvement—your own heart.

I wish I could tell you to believe again.

To believe in yourself and your dreams—that you are doing the best you can.

I wish I could tell you to believe that you can do whatever it is you set out to do, that you are beautiful, capable, and have the best intentions.

I wish I could tell you to truly, fully believe that life will work out the way it’s supposed to. That what is meant for you, will find you.

I wish I could tell you that you are perfect the way you are.

To stop comparing yourself so much to those around the globe, because those in your every day, are quite enough.

I wish I could tell you that your hair, your body, your eyes, your clothes, your mind, your dreams, your heart—your soul—those are enough. Those have always been enough.

I wish I could tell you to remember to be a kid again.