Letter to my younger self?
I remember being in Intensive Trauma Therapy and one of our projects was to “write a letter to our younger selves.” At first, without putting too much thought into yet, I thought it would be an interesting and therapeutic thing to do. But as I started to think about what I would actually tell little Milli, I felt this overwhelming rush of sadness and fear.
You see, most of the people in my group therapy’s letters to their younger selves went something along the lines of
“You’re safe, just be patient, it’ll all be over soon.” “Just be patient, you’re going to have such a beautiful life in the future.”
Mine however, was a little different. Fortunately, my childhood was great. Little me was happy and brave and adventurous and wore her little heart on her sleeve. And so my letter, which was extremely difficult to write, was different. There was no
“just be patient, things will get better” “you’re safe and you’re going to be okay.”
No, no it was actually the complete opposite. Little Milli had no idea that her world was going to completely turn dark. She had no idea that her worst fears were going to come true. She had no idea the amount of pain and trauma she was going to have to endure as an adult.
And so I hesitated so much to write that letter to little Milli. Who was I to instill fear and dim her little light? Who was I to completely steal that happiness and bravery from her? Who was I to tell her that she was going to be far from safety and spend the rest of her life desperately looking for it?
And so I didn’t write that letter. And idk if I ever will. All I know is that I refuse to let that part of me die.
#Lemon8Diary #embracevulnerability #mentalhealthawareness #traumahealingjourney #healing
The idea of writing a letter to your younger self is a popular therapeutic exercise, often suggested as a way to gain perspective, offer comfort, or even share hard-won wisdom. For many, it's a chance to reassure a scared child or celebrate early triumphs. But what happens when your adult self carries the weight of trauma that your younger self is yet to experience? This is a question many of us grapple with, and it's far more complex than it appears on the surface. When I first heard about this exercise, I imagined it would be a simple act of empathy. Yet, as I sat down, the reality of my own journey hit me hard. How could I possibly tell that innocent, joyful part of me about the darkness that lay ahead? The thought felt like a betrayal, like stealing the sunshine from a perfect day. This isn't about regret for warning them about a scraped knee; it's about the profound impact of knowing deep pain would inevitably follow a period of pure happiness. The image of a carefree past, perhaps like a vivid sunset over untouched fields where nothing has happened yet, is something we often long to protect. Many guides suggest telling your younger self, "It gets better." But for those of us whose adult lives were shaped by unforeseen trauma, this sentiment can feel hollow or even cruel. My experience taught me that sometimes, the most profound act of healing isn't to impart future knowledge, but to fiercely protect the memory and essence of that untroubled past. It’s about acknowledging that while the world did turn dark, that bright, brave spirit from childhood is still a part of who we are, and it deserves to be cherished, not burdened with what's to come. So, if the traditional "letter to my younger self" feels impossible for you, know you're not alone. There are other ways to engage with your past and heal your inner child. Sometimes, healing my younger self means simply remembering her joy, celebrating her resilience, and living a life now that honors her spirit, rather than dwelling on the pain she would endure. It's about letting that part of me thrive in the present, unburdened by future anxieties. Perhaps it's about creating a safe space for that innocent version of yourself within your present consciousness, letting her know she's safe *now*. It's about nurturing the inner child, providing the love and understanding that past circumstances might have denied. This doesn't require a letter; it requires ongoing self-compassion and a commitment to your own well-being. Looking back at moments where I wished I could remain 11 years old and untouched by life's hardships, I now find strength in carrying that youthful spirit forward, rather than trying to warn it away from its path. It's a deep, personal journey, and there’s no single right way to approach it. What matters is finding what resonates with your healing process. For some, it might be journaling about their feelings for their younger self without the pressure of a direct address. For others, it might be engaging in activities they loved as a child to reconnect with that pure joy. The goal is always to integrate your past, present, and future selves in a way that fosters peace and wholeness, preserving the light even when dark lessons have been learned.
