If I Had Known Then...
What I Know Now

"Life must be understood backwards. But it must be lived forward." Soren Kierkegaard.

Are there moments when you've wished you could go back to the woman you were 5, 10, 15, 20 years ago? I have. I think often about the woman I was in my 20's and 30's.

Sometimes it's good to sit down and write a letter to your younger self. Tell your younger self what you wish you'd known then but didn't.

Mind you, I don't miss being twentysomething and thirtysomething. Reliving those years does not interest me. Spare me all that drama. Being fortysomething suits me just fine. I like the woman I've become. But I do wish sometimes that I could go back and bless myself with the love and confidence I desperately longed for back then. I was wracked with anxiety in my twenties, and there were lots of reasons for that. But if I'd known then what I know now I could have spared myself all the recriminations I heaped on myself. I wouldn't have been so hard on myself.

Here's the letter I recently wrote to my twentysomething year old self.

Dear Renita,

I see you standing on a crowded #3 subway train in Manhattan clutching the strap, trying to hold on as the train jerks and lurches, trying not to fall over into the lap of the man sitting just beneath you. You are trying with everything in you to stand there with poise,trying not to jerk and lurch with the train, but it's hard. So hard.

Appearing sturdy is important to you. You're afraid someone will figure out that you're really scared and unstable. You're trying to stay on your feet, but you have so few models for doing so. You're watching others to see how it's done. How do I tell you that years from now others will be watching you to see how it's done? And you'll have to tell them about all the lurches and jerks that threw you across the train and bore you to where you are today.

You don't believe this right now. You are your mother's daughter, but you are not your mother. Your secrets will not die with you. You will not die thinking you are unlovable. You will not die thinking what you've done can't be forgiven. You will not die unconvinced of your own strength and beauty. You will not waste away unable to talk about your life. You will find your voice and will spend your wise woman years helping other women – in memory of Ms. Carrie your mother– find their own God-given voice as well.

So hold on, if you can. But know this: it's alright if you fall down. You'll get back up again.

Renita J. Weems, Ph.D.