What I Wish Someone Had Told Me
Time moves forward quietly—until one day you wake up and realize you’ve crossed all your “firsts” and most of your milestones. For much of my life, I was seen as the “young one,” the one who still had so much ahead of her. But now, I’ve lived through 10, 18, 25—and beyond. And I’ve learned things I wish I could pass back to my younger self… or maybe to someone standing where I once stood.
Writing has become my way of doing that. Every piece I write is a letter—not always to a specific person, but to the next one coming up behind me. It’s my way of saying, Here’s what I learned, here’s what I wish I’d known, and here’s what I hope helps you.
At 10: Innocence Without Tools
At 10, I didn’t think much about “advice.” My world was small and safe, wrapped tightly in the rules and boundaries my parents set for me. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t given the tools to fail or adapt—only to avoid mistakes entirely. That kind of protection feels warm at first, but it leaves you unprepared for the moments when you have to think for yourself.
If I could tell my 10-year-old self something, I’d say: One day you will fall, and it will hurt—but you are strong enough to get back up. You don’t need to be perfect to be loved. And sometimes the most important lessons come when no one is there to tell you the answer.
At 18: Freedom With Consequences
Eighteen felt like stepping into sunlight after years in a locked room. I left home for a private university, enrolled in pre-pharmacy, tasted my first sense of freedom—and ran headfirst into overindulgence. Smoking. Parties. Frat houses. Drinking too much. It was like I was trying to live out every missed teenage experience in one sprint.
I went from high school salutatorian to failing classes for the first time in my life. The bubble I’d been raised in didn’t prepare me for this. My parents’ perfectionism meant there was no space for trial and error, so my failures felt catastrophic. And when I was told maybe I should “just” go to technical school instead, it stung in ways I can still feel.
If I could sit with my 18-year-old self, I’d say: Own your failures. They’re not the end—they’re the training ground. You will fail again, and it will feel awful, but what matters is the muscle you build to stand back up. These are your choices now, for better or worse. Learn from them. Claim them.
At 25: Stamina Over Spark
By 25, I thought I’d have it all figured out. Instead, I was working in a steel mill, covered in flame-retardant clothing, scrolling social media during breaks and wondering why my life didn’t look like everyone else’s. My job was steady. My pay was decent. But I felt like I was spinning my wheels.
This is the age where follow-through becomes everything. Opportunities are everywhere, distractions too. The challenge isn’t finding something—it’s committing to it long enough to see it through. For me, showing up every day in that mill, doing work that wasn’t glamorous but that built my career foundation, was a kind of discipline I didn’t appreciate until later.
To my 25-year-old self, I’d say: Your life won’t look like anyone else’s, and that’s okay. The magic is in what you stick with, even when it’s not exciting. Don’t confuse a slower path with a wrong one.
The Thread That Connects It All
As I look back now, I see that every age held its own lesson:
- At 10, I didn’t yet know how to stand on my own.
- At 18, I was learning the weight of my own choices.
- At 25, I was learning how to endure.
If there’s one thing I wish I’d known all along, it’s that life is less about having the perfect plan and more about living it—really living it—mistakes, detours, and all. You can think about life and watch other people live, or you can step into it.
And if you’re at a milestone right now… step in.