Dear Past Me: A Heartfelt Message from the Future
- MJ Wynn
- Nov 25, 2024
- 4 min read
Updated: May 10
Dear Old Me,
I see you.
Not just the surface-level version you show the world—the one who pastes on a smile when people ask how you’re doing, the one who waves off concern with a joke, convincing everyone, including yourself, that you’re “fine.”
I see the real you.
The one who curls up alone at night, feeling the weight of the world pressing down, replaying every decision, every mistake, every word left unsaid. The you who hides in plain sight, wondering if anyone notices, hoping they don’t—but wishing they would.
I know how heavy it feels to carry it all. The pressure to be everything to everyone. The guilt that eats away at you because you think you’re falling short, even though you’re giving everything you have. I know how many times you’ve stared at your reflection, picking apart every flaw, convincing yourself that if you could just be better, things would finally fall into place.
But here’s the truth you’re not ready to believe yet: none of that defines you.
Not the choices you regret, not the relationships that fell apart, not the times you felt like you weren’t enough. Those moments may shape you, yes, but they don’t own you. You are so much more than the worst things you’ve been through.
I want to talk about those nights—the quiet, endless ones where the world feels too sharp, too heavy. When you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and every memory feels like a weight pressing on your chest. Those nights when you wonder if this is it, if this is all life has to offer. I wish I could reach back through time, take your hand, and promise you it gets better. That there’s light waiting for you on the other side of this.
But I know you wouldn’t believe me. Not yet.
I remember how hard you tried to make yourself small. You thought if you could just shrink, just blend in, the world might stop hurting you. You became a master at dimming your light, twisting yourself into shapes that fit other people’s expectations. But here’s what you didn’t realize: you weren’t supposed to fit into their boxes. You were never meant to be small. Your light was meant to shine, even if some people found it uncomfortable or overwhelming.
That’s not a reflection of you—it’s a reflection of them.
I know you’ve spent so much time replaying your mistakes, carrying the weight of choices you made when you didn’t know any better. It’s hard, isn’t it? To forgive yourself. To stop blaming yourself for the ways others hurt you. You think if you had just been better, tried harder, loved more, they wouldn’t have left, or hurt you, or disappointed you. But here’s the thing: their actions were never about you. You could have twisted yourself into a thousand different versions, and it still wouldn’t have been enough—because it wasn’t about you.
And yet, despite all of it, you kept going. Even when it felt impossible, you kept putting one foot in front of the other. That’s something I wish you’d give yourself credit for. Surviving is no small thing. It takes strength to wake up every day and choose to keep trying, even when it feels like the world is against you.
One day, you’ll understand what I’m saying. You’ll wake up and realize that the weight you’ve been carrying has started to lift. It won’t happen all at once. Healing is messy, nonlinear, and often painful. But little by little, you’ll start to feel it—the lightness, the hope. You’ll start to see yourself the way others see you: as someone worthy of love, of joy, of peace.
You’ll stop measuring your worth by the love you didn’t receive. You’ll stop trying to earn your place in people’s lives and start claiming it unapologetically. You’ll look back on those nights, those choices, those scars, and you’ll see them for what they are: proof of your resilience. Proof that you are stronger than you ever realized.
And let me tell you about the mirror.
One day, you’ll stand in front of it, and for the first time in a long time, you’ll like what you see. Not just your reflection, but what’s behind it. You’ll see someone whole. Not perfect—not without flaws—but whole.
You’ll see someone who’s learned how to take up space, how to speak their truth, how to love themselves in ways they never thought possible.
And here’s the best part: you’ll thank yourself.
You’ll thank the version of you that held on, that fought through the darkness, that refused to give up even when it felt impossible. You’ll thank the Old You for surviving long enough to become the person you are now.
To anyone reading this, thinking, This feels like my story, I want you to know this isn’t just about me. This is about you too.
I see you. I see the version of you hiding behind your own walls, carrying your own weight, fighting your own battles. And I need you to know: you are not alone. You are not your mistakes. You are not the pain others caused you. You are everything you thought you’d lost, and so much more.
If you take nothing else from this letter, take this: there is light waiting for you on the other side of this. You are so much more than the sum of your struggles. And one day, you’ll see that too.
With all the love we didn’t know how to give ourselves before,
Your Future Self
🌷 Signed, MJ
Comments