Every scar has a story. “Letter to My Younger Self” invites you into the reflective hearts of people who've walked winding roads—offering gentle truths, bold lessons, and encouragement for anyone still figuring it out. These weekly letters are full of grace and grit, showing how setbacks shape wisdom and how the past still holds power to teach. From nurturing curiosity to embracing mentorship, each piece is a tribute to growth through lived experience.
Ben Githae* Not his real name pens this week’s heartfelt Letter to My Younger Self.
Dear Younger Self,
It’s me, your future.
Sitting here, many years down the line, I'm looking back at you with a mix of fondness, a little bit of longing, and a whole lot of insight I wish I could beam directly into your eager mind
There’s so much I want to tell you, not to change the past, for every twist and turn has brought me here, but to offer you the wisdom that only comes from living through it.
I know what’s coming for you, or rather, what has just happened.
You’re 23, and you’re about to embark on the most profound, terrifying, and utterly beautiful journey of your life: fatherhood.
And let’s be honest, you’re doing it with almost no meaningful source of income.
It was, as you remember, a daring decision, a leap of faith into the unknown with very little safety net beneath you.
The sheer weight of responsibility is settling on your shoulders, and honestly, you're not ready.
Not by a long shot. The fear is palpable, the uncertainty a constant hum beneath every thought.
But what you don't realise then is that this singular event, this seemingly 'not ideal' step, will forge the very core of the man you are to become.
It will demand more of you than anything else ever has, and in doing so, reveal strengths you didn’t know you possessed.
Looking back, I see the path not taken, or rather, the paths you rushed past in your youthful eagerness and sometimes, your youthful naivety.
I wish you had used those precious, unburdened years – your late teens, your early twenties – to simply learn.
To explore without the crushing pressure of immediate consequence.
To delve into subjects that fascinated you, pick up new skills just for the joy of it, and yes, to make more mistakes.
Not catastrophic ones, but the kind of missteps that teach you resilience, problem-solving, and reveal the vast landscape of your own potential.
You were so quick to chase the immediate, to react to circumstances, when you could have been deliberately building a stronger foundation for yourself.
Imagine the confidence you would have gained by truly understanding a craft, by having a broader intellectual curiosity, by simply failing at something and picking yourself back up when the stakes were lower.
That period of unadulterated self-discovery was a luxury you unknowingly forfeited, and its absence sometimes made the early years of fatherhood even more challenging as you learned on the fly, with far greater personal responsibility.
Oh, how I wish someone had taken you under their wing!
You needed a guide, a wise voice to paint a clearer picture of how life really works beyond your immediate horizon.
Someone to gently steer you, not dictate, but illuminate the myriad paths available.
In relationships, you often navigated by instinct, leading to unnecessary heartaches and miscommunications.
Imagine someone teaching you about emotional intelligence, about healthy boundaries, about the true meaning of partnership, loyalty, and commitment.
And in approaching life itself, a mentor could have instilled a sense of purpose, a framework for decision-making that wasn't solely based on reactive survival, but on proactive growth and contribution.
This wisdom, if offered and absorbed, would have saved you so much pain and accelerated your journey significantly.
But here's the thing, Younger Self: while those "what ifs" linger, the path you did take, however difficult, was not without its profound lessons.
That daring decision at 23, the relentless grind for income, the constant balancing act – it forced you to become incredibly resilient.
You learned resourcefulness in ways you never would have otherwise, squeezing every drop out of every opportunity.
You discovered a depth of unconditional love for your child that became your unwavering anchor, your primary motivation.
You learned to live with uncertainty, to adapt, to push past your perceived limits, and to find solutions where none seemed to exist.
You understood the true value of hard work, the importance of showing up even when you felt like giving up.
This intense pressure cooker forged a strength within you, a determination that has served you well in countless situations since.
It taught you that love isn't just a feeling; it's an action, a daily commitment, a constant negotiation with life's demands.
It made you who you are, and for that, I am grateful. So, what do I tell you, now, with the benefit of hindsight?
Firstly, seek knowledge relentlessly. Read, observe, ask questions of everyone you meet.
The world is a vast library; don't be afraid to pull books off the shelves and immerse yourself.
Secondly, cultivate financial discipline, no matter how small your income.
Even a tiny amount saved or invested early on can snowball into something meaningful and provide a crucial buffer.
Thirdly, actively seek out mentors. Don't wait for them to appear; identify people you admire, learn from their experiences, ask for their guidance.
Most successful people are willing to share their wisdom. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, be kind to yourself.
You're going to make mistakes, stumble, and feel overwhelmed.
That's part of being human. Learn from it, forgive yourself, and keep moving forward with an open heart.
Embrace the journey, even its unexpected detours, because every single step, ideal or not, is shaping the person you are destined to become.
It's a tough road ahead in many ways, but it's also filled with immense joy, profound love, and ultimately, a wisdom you could only earn through experience.
Trust your inherent strength, lean into your responsibilities, and never stop learning.
You're going to be alright, my younger self. More than alright. Already, you're becoming incredible.
Everyone has a story worth sharing. If you’ve ever wished you could talk to your younger self—with wisdom, forgiveness, or clarity—we invite you to write to us. Your real, heartfelt letter might just be the encouragement someone else needs today. You may remain anonymous if preferred, but your truth matters. We don’t pay contributors, but we believe in the power of shared experience. Join us in building a collection of life’s hard-earned lessons and gentle reminders.
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