What I’d Tell 2019 Me

If I could travel back in time and pour some truth into you over a glass of wine, here’s what I’d say:

First of all—breathe. You’re carrying so much right now. You feel like you need to have it all figured out, like every decision you make is a make-or-break moment. Spoiler alert: it's not. You're going to zigzag a little, and that’s okay. The straight line isn’t coming—but the growth, the clarity, and the grit? Oh, that’s on the way in full force.

Let’s talk about work. I know you’re trying to make your resume scream “hire me,” while also quietly wondering if you’re meant to be your own boss. You don’t say that out loud yet because imposter syndrome has you in a chokehold. But guess what? One day, you’re going to take bold steps in both directions. You’re going to build something from scratch, pivot, fall, and still keep rising. And eventually…you’re going to be both boss and student, leader and learner.

You’re going to walk away from things that drained you—jobs, relationships, people-pleasing, trying to prove your worth to folks who already made up their minds. You’re going to cry in parking lots, laugh in new places, and find peace in your own company. And no, it won't always feel good in the moment. But it’ll be worth it.

Also, can we talk about your kids for a second? You think you’re messing them up every other week, but you’re actually showing them what resilience looks like. One day they’ll tell you how proud they are, and it’ll hit you in the chest. You’ll realize you weren’t perfect, but you were present. And that’s everything.

Oh, and about that one thing you’re afraid to admit out loud—that you're tired of surviving and want to thrive? Lean into it. You don’t owe anyone an apology for wanting more. Wanting rest. Wanting joy.

I wish I could shield you from the hard seasons coming. The uncertainty. The loss. The slow burns of disappointment. But I wouldn’t, because those moments? They’ll shape you. They’ll stretch you. They’ll teach you how strong, creative, and unstoppable you really are.

You’re going to walk into rooms you once dreamed of. You’re going to find your voice. And you’re going to realize that your story—messy, beautiful, unfinished—is exactly what someone else needs to hear one day.

So chin up. Keep showing up. Keep writing, keep praying, keep trusting. Your future self is so dang proud of you.