Past Me Was Reckless, Present Me Is Tired

MJ Wynn
Jul 8
3 min read

I’ve been sitting here for like an hour now, just… thinking. About how so much of my current chaos was handcrafted by a younger version of me who was equal parts unbothered and completely unprepared. Like damn girl, you were bold. Reckless. Full of audacity and ☕ caffeine and zero backup plans.

And now I’m 34. Sitting in the middle of all her “I’ll deal with it later” choices. Guess what? It’s later. And I am, in fact, very tired. 😮‍💨.

not judging her, just… observing 👀

To be clear, this isn’t me roasting my past self. I’m not mad at her. I get her. I’ve been her. This is more of a soft stare across the years — like, “Hey babe… maybe we could’ve thought this through?” I’m writing this surrounded by unopened mail 📬 I’ve been dodging like it’s emotionally contagious, a laundry basket 🧺 I’ve tripped over three separate times today, and a budget spreadsheet that feels more like a breakup text. 💔

But I don’t want to shame her. I want to sit next to her. I want to say: “I know you were doing your best with what you had. I just wish you’d saved me a little more grace.”

younger me had vibes but no vision 🌀

If we’re being real, she wasn’t wild in the fun way. She was wild like… emotionally feral 😅. She thought being young meant never needing to care. And maybe there’s some beauty in that. Some soft spot where freedom and ignorance overlap. But honestly? I didn’t just make mistakes — I threw parties for them. Made them playlists 🎶. Let them move in rent-free.

She didn’t think about me. Not the me curled up on the kitchen floor at 2:00 a.m. wondering if rent’s overdue again 💸. Not the me feeling crushed under the weight of her name attached to too many numbers in red. She couldn’t think that far ahead. She was too busy surviving, and I can’t really blame her.

But surviving and ignoring aren’t the same thing — and eventually, everything you ignore finds a way to circle back 🔁.

maybe future me deserves something gentler

I’ve been trying to take care of myself in little, almost invisible ways. Not just for right now me, but for the version of me who wakes up tomorrow morning ☀️. Or the one who gets home from work and just wants peace. Sometimes taking care looks like lighting a candle 🕯️ and journaling. Other times it’s just putting away the damn laundry because I know future me won’t have the energy.

We talk about self-care like it’s always pretty. Like it’s skincare routines and soft music and Instagram aesthetics ✨. But sometimes it’s cleaning out your inbox 📥. Sometimes it’s flossing. Sometimes it’s not texting back, because peace is louder than a reply.

And sometimes? It’s just asking: what does she need from me?

i want to love the woman i’m becoming 💖

That’s really what all this is about. I want to love her. Not just when she’s thriving, but even when she’s overwhelmed, behind on life, trying her best not to shut down completely.

I want to make choices with her in mind. Like, okay — maybe she needs rest 😴. Maybe she needs structure. Maybe she just needs me to stop being so hard on her for not having it all together. She’s not some stranger I’ll meet years from now. She’s me. Just a little later. And if I can hold space for her now, maybe she won’t feel so alone when she gets here.

we’re not broken — just tender

It’s easy to spiral. To feel like it’s too late, like everything’s too messy to sort out. But I don’t think we’re broken. I think we’re rebuilding — and not in a dramatic, glow-up montage kind of way. In small, sleepy, human ways. One dish 🍽️. One deep breath 🌬️. One tiny choice at a time.