letters to our past selves

introducing a new series

Hi my beautiful friends,

I’m coming to you from my little place by the Ligurian sea. It’s been thunderstorms on repeat for the past few days, and I can officially admit that nothing helps a low pressure headache more than a face mask and hot chocolate.

So much has changed, hasn’t it? So much has changed from 6 months ago, a year ago, two years ago, twelve years ago, fifteen years ago…

The characters in our life look different. A lot different. Family members, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, partners - they’ve come, they’re gone, they come back, or they’ve never left. We’ve built careers when we’ve had no choice but to start from scratch, we’ve found new hobbies that give us something, left the countries and cities we were born and raised in, looking for hope. Looking for magic. Looking for more.

Time moves us. And I’ve realized something. To change is a privilege. And to grow is a privilege, too.

I think it’s hard to appreciate how far we’ve come, and I think we should do it more often.

In 2021, I started seeing a new therapist. And I’ve had a few different therapists over the past 7 years. One really helped me to focus on grieving, entering the new single world, and how to navigate family and friend conflict. Another one helped me when I was re-entering the working world. She really helped me to acknowledge and embrace my need for creativity and freedom, and as terrifying as it was at the time - she really encouraged me to start regularly posting about my feelings.

Now, this therapist is different. She’s young, bright, and funny. The first thing I told her that I wanted to work on when I started was having self-compassion. I told her that I’ve realized (and my friends had also mentioned this to me) that I am so incredibly hard on myself. I told her I have a hard time accepting help, I want to do everything on my own, I’m scared of upsetting people, and I’m scared that I’m always a burden.

So, thus began my journey with my 5-year old self in therapy.

“Remember, what would you do if your 5 year old self came up to you right now? Crying for help? Or wanting to celebrate something with you? Would you turn her away? Or shut her excitement down?”

We are all made up of different experiences. But there are some things that never change. Who we are at our core. That 5 year old, that 6 year old, that 12 year old, that 16 year old self.

I know that I’m still that 5 year old girl who’s eating 2 plates of pasta at her nonnas, with tomato sauce covering every inch of her little arms.

So, for this next monthly series, I want to have someone write a letter to their younger selves At whatever age they feel they need to talk to the most. To tell them how proud they are of them. To tell them every little thing they’ve learned. To remind them to not give up. Any of it, and all of it.

I can’t wait for you to read tomorrow’s letter, and tomorrow’s first instalment of this series. It’s an honour for me to share these stories. Thank you for trusting me with them.

I love you, I really do.

Emily