Issue 5: What I Wish I Knew at 22

I took my younger self to coffee and gave her some cold, hard truths.

If you're on social media, you've likely seen the heartwarming trend of users who post about meeting their younger selves for coffee.

It’s formatted in a poem, which follows a straightforward pattern: You (older you) arrives at a coffee shop. Your younger self arrives to the same coffee shop. You note their timing, and what they order.

Then comes the conversation. Your younger self asks your older self questions about her future: What does life look like in 10 years? Are you happy? Do you still care about the same things? Do your insecurities melt away?

Are you OK?

After several friends posted their own versions of this trend, I began to reflect on my own version of the poem.

emma_enroute

A post shared by @emma_enroute

Here’s what I ended up with:

I met my younger self for coffee.

I arrived 5 minutes early.
She came 15 minutes early.

She sat across from me, with an iced coffee.
I ordered a cappuccino.

She told me about the fears that come with living in a new city.
I told her she’d still be here 10 years later.

She asked if I made a group of friends,
I told her I did, yes, but I also kept my old friends close.

She asked me what I was doing with my life,
And I told her we were at the same job, but had taken on much more responsibility.

She asked if I have a boyfriend.
I smiled and said I have a family — a wonderful husband, and two sweet kitties.

She told me she was insecure about herself.
I told her “healthy and strong” is a whole lot better than “tiny” and “skinny.”

She told me she is worried what everyone else thinks.
I told her that she’ll still care, but a whole lot less.

She asked me if I was happy.
I gave her a hug and told her I was, and she will be, too.

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I have to admit: Writing this poem opened the floodgates.

It brought me back to an extremely emotional and challenging chapter of my life — moving to Los Angeles at the age of 22 and into a studio apartment that drained my bank account, all while attempting to make friends, trying to succeed in my first “adult” job at the company my dad worked for (and constantly battling imposter syndrome in the process), clinging to an up-and-down, long-distance relationship that didn’t serve me, and succumbing to an all-consuming desire to be thinner, hotter and prettier in a city that puts a premium on external appearances.

Above: 32-year-old Emma — happy with herself, confident, excited for the future. Below: 22-year-old-Emma — insecure, obsessed with perfection, seeking external validation.

I am amazed at how far I’ve come in 10 years.

After meeting my younger self for coffee, I began to think about all the other things I wanted to say to her:

You can still care what people think, but don’t let it consume you.

You’ve always been a people-pleaser. After meeting someone for the first time, I know you over-analyze the interaction (“Did she think I was weird?” “Why did I say that?”). You are so caught up in whether the person liked you, that you have trouble forming an authentic connection.

While it’s healthy (to some degree) to care what others think, you can’t let it rule your world. You can’t control other people’s opinions (positive, or negative), and if you fumble in a social situation, give yourself the benefit of the doubt.

Being “perfect” is unattainable. Being authentic is empowering.

What does it mean to be perfect? For you, it’s to be liked, to not make mistakes, to be consistently firing on all cylinders. It was to excel at work, keep up with every relationship, pack weekends with activities, and to have high follower counts and a certain number of “likes” on every photo.

But you’ll learn: It’s less about perfection, and more about authenticity. To be vulnerable and to connect with others. To open up and share true feelings and opinions, and to be OK doing “nothing.”

Focus on your health, not someone else’s idea of beauty.

Throughout your 20s, you thrive on being “tiny.” When people mention that you look thinner (or, even too thin), you swell with pride. You’re terrified of gaining weight (and, ironically, you’re so worried about being judged at the gym, that you never really go.)

Let me tell you: About 3 years into a steady and consistent workout routine thanks to two virtual trainers (thanks, Dylan and Mike!), you’ll soon be in the best shape of your life. You’ll weigh more you ever have before, but you’ll feel strong, healthy and proud of the muscle you’ve built. Work hard to be consistent, and don’t worry if you fall out of the routine. Just pick yourself back up and try again tomorrow.

Don’t sit around and wait for the phone to ring.

When you moved to LA, you dreaded the weekends. They stretched on, often without plans, and you felt too intimidated to go do things alone. You’d hang out at home, feeling lonely, and calling friends who lived thousands of miles away.

Something will finally click with you after hearing piece of advice from Mom: “If you sit around and wait for the phone to ring, it never will.” Push yourself to go out to networking events, to start a book club, to ask coworkers out to lunch. Many of the friends you’ll make in these early years will still be friends a decade later.

Your voice is powerful.

As the youngest employee in your office, I know you’re terrified of speaking up. You get so nervous before meetings that your heart races and your palms get sweaty. Sometimes, even when you have something to contribute, you talk yourself out of speaking up.

You’re terrified of negative feedback, and you’re terrified to ask questions.

But, I encourage you to take on more responsibilities at work. You’ll start hosting a podcast, and realize you’re actually pretty good at it. You’ll learn more about the industry you’re in, and you’ll step out from under your dad’s shadow in the minds of your coworkers. You’ll begin to connect with employees outside of your small LA office. Slowly, your confidence levels will rise, and you’ll realize that you do, in fact, have a well-deserved spot in the room.

Keep good money habits (and feed that 401k).

The best thing you can do financially is to open up a 401K and set up auto contributions. I know you don’t have a lot of salary to spare. But start small, even 3% of your paycheck. Build it up over time.

Don’t be afraid to say goodbye to relationships if they don’t make you happy.

You will lose some friends in your 20s. Some of them, you’ll hold onto for way too long, refusing to give up on them even when they don’t make you happy. Other friendships will fizzle out, and you’ll agonize over the “why” and the “what if,” often blaming yourself for why you grew apart.

What you’ll realize is that you get to choose who stays in your life, and that’s one of the most powerful things you can do for yourself.

You’re known by the company you keep, so choose wisely.

Lean on your strongest friendships. Nurture them, watch them grow and change.

I dig into this in a previous newsletter, Issue No. 3: The Long-Distance Friendship Handbook.

Simply put: Hold your close people close. Let them change, and change with them. Celebrate their accomplishments, lend an ear when they need one.

It’s ok to get help.

This one will be hard to hear. You’ll get to the point where you hit rock bottom, and you won’t want to admit it to anyone else. But reaching out for help will be the best thing you’ll ever do for yourself.

Find a therapist you like, and stick with her (hint: it won’t be the first one you try). Force yourself to go to sessions, even if you don’t want to, or you think you are feeling OK. Get to know every side of yourself, and identify your own patterns of behavior. Use the tools you learn in therapy to move forward.

You’ll ask, “Am I OK?” and I’m here to tell you, “Yes, you are.”

What would you say to your younger self? Comment below and let me know.

Wishing everyone a wonderful week ahead,

Emma Stern