If you could go back in time and give your younger self advice, what would it be?
Most people know immediately what they would say. They would tell their younger self not to worry so much, or to walk away from certain people sooner, or to hold on tight because everything will eventually turn out fine. They would offer warnings, shortcuts, and gentle words of reassurance to soften the blows of what lies ahead.
For a very long time, I thought I would do the exact same thing. I imagined rushing into the past, finding that young girl sitting in an empty room or waiting by the front door, pulling her close, and handing her a roadmap out of the heartbreak.
Yet the more I sit with this question now, the clearer my answer becomes.
If I could go back in time and give my younger self advice, I would say nothing.
I would not warn her about the day our mother walks out the door. I would not tell her about the twenty five years of silence that will follow. I would not whisper that the house we are living in will soon stop feeling safe, or that some adults make promises they have no intention of keeping. I would keep every single secret locked quietly inside my heart.
Instead, I would simply stand beside her and watch.
I would watch my younger self in every moment that she was happy, struggling, and hurting. I would watch her in the moments when she is genuinely, uncomplicatedly happy. I would let her eat breakfast in the morning without the heavy shadow of loss hanging over her head. I would let her walk the familiar path to school, laughing with her classmates and watching the golden fields sway in the wind, completely unaware of the grief waiting around the corner. She deserves to have those joyful moments without fear. She deserves to enjoy happiness freely, without the terrifying foreshadowing of a sad and dark future.
Just as fiercely, I would let her struggle and hurt.
I would let her feel the confusion, the sharp sting of rejection, and the terrible ache in her chest when people leave, and as painful as it would be to witness her heartbreak, I would not step in to rescue her from it.
I would let her hurt because that struggle is where she learned how to pick herself up. It was in the middle of that darkness that she discovered how to survive. Every single tear, every sleepless night, and every moment of feeling completely abandoned taught her how to stand on her own two feet when nobody else was coming to save her. That pain is what made her survive the darkness. It is what made her stronger.
I would not leave her to face it alone, though. That is the one gift I would offer her. I would walk into the room, take a seat, and accompany her through every single chapter. I would stay beside her through the quiet mornings, the terrifying nights, and the long seasons of silence. I would accompany her to face it all, but I would not say a single word.
Because even if no one was ever there to give me advice back then, I still made it through. I had to figure out how to navigate the darkness on my own, and in spite of everything that fell apart, I turned out well. I survived the things that were meant to break me, and against all odds, I have come to love the life I am creating today.
If I changed a single step of her journey, I might change the woman who is sitting here today writing these reflections. Her pain brought me here. Her endurance carried me forward. Her refusal to give up built the foundation of the peace and happiness I now protect.
So I would let her live through all of it. Every smile, every tear, every struggle, and every quiet victory. I would hold my silence, watch over her, and trust the strength of the little girl who made my life possible.
If You Found This By Accident
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