I often wonder what my mom would have told her 60-year-old self when she was 80.
Mom passed at 82, and although we had many conversations, I don't remember us having this one - but I'd venture that we did, and I've simply forgotten.
Now that I'm in my mid-60s, I often think about that. What would I tell my 40 or 30-year-old self?
Because even at this age, I certainly haven't learned nearly all there is to know. I imagine my mom at 80 had realizations and wisdom that didn't resonate when she was my current age.
It makes me think that no matter how old we are — 20, 40, 60, or 80 — we're always able to look back and see what we didn't know then versus what we know now.
So, this piece is about being in my mid-60s and reflecting on how every decade carries its own lessons. I'm sure if I'm blessed enough to reach my mid-80s, I'll see life through an even more seasoned lens — maybe not entirely different, but definitely deeper. That's how I tend to live: tracking the markers, assessing the growth, and asking myself what stuck, what didn't, and what I still need to learn.
What I'd Tell My 30-Year-Old Self - I'd Have to Laugh Mid-Conversation!
If I could go back and whisper something to my 30-year-old self, I think the first thing I'd do is laugh — because she would've never believed we'd make it through half of what was coming!
There was a time when I used to say, "If I could go back, I'd change schools, or take a different major, or move to a different city." And while that sounds practical, it's also impossible — because those kinds of changes would have altered everything. I wouldn't have the kids I have, the family I have, or even the same path that shaped me.
So I've grown past that kind of thinking. That was the younger me talking. The version that thought life was supposed to go according to plan.
Today, I understand that my life unfolded the way it was meant to — not easily, but meaningfully. I accept that I chose this life for a reason. My spirit wanted growth, and, well, it got it!
Sometimes I joke that before we’re born — if that’s how it works — maybe we’re up there somewhere making our life plans like a bunch of overachievers. And there I was, hand in the air, saying, “Give me all the lessons. I can handle it. I’ll do a thousand lifetimes in one. Let’s go!” Honestly, that's my character, so I can legitimately believe I would do this!
And then somewhere around my 50s, I did yell back, "Okay, that's enough now — who approved this plan?!" Because honestly, I think I signed up for a little too much growth.
Still, I can laugh about it now, and that's a kind of wisdom all on its own. Laugh, cry, feel it all.
What 65-Year-Old Me Would Tell Me 30-Year-Old Me:
If I could actually sit across from my 30-year-old self, I'd say this:
“It feels insurmountable right now, but you’ve chosen this path for a reason. Keep moving forward. Speak up more often. You’re going to discover strength beyond your wildest imagination. You think you know what strength is now — just wait. You’re about to master it, my Queen. Hold onto love, and you'll survive it all.”
I wrote the song lyrics in the above video in my late 30s, possibly early 40s. I was struggling then, deeply. And that struggle, as hard as it was, gave me this creative voice that I've used before and ever since.
I've written countless things since then — including a book of poetry that spans fifty years of my life.
Most of those poems mirror the ups and downs, the lessons, and the love I've found along the way. I originally published that book for my children, so when my time here is done, they'll still have a piece of me to hold onto, if they need it.
What Would You Tell Your 30-Year-Old Self?
Now, what about you? Have you ever asked yourself that question?
Would you tell your 30-year-old self to make this turn instead of that turn? To choose a different path, or avoid certain detours? Or would you simply congratulate yourself for surviving it all — for learning what you needed to learn, even if it came the hard way?
We all have our own version of that conversation. Maybe that's what life really is — a series of quiet talks between who we were and who we're becoming.
Closing Thought
So, here's to every version of us: the 30-year-old who was trying to figure it out, the 60-year-old who's still learning, and the future self who will someday look back and smile, realizing that somehow, through it all, we did okay.
