A Letter to My Younger Self on My 35th Birthday

Image of author, age 7

Today is my 35th birthday.

I think it’s finally safe to say that I’ve entered my mid-thirties. Or, perhaps I’ve been in my mid-thirties for a year now and now I’m in the middle of my mid thirties. That is still debatable.

My birthday Substack essay from last year began with my questioning the official start of the mid-thirties. Was it 34 or 35? I posed the question to Threads and received a variety of answers, which did not help my confusion. Regardless of when they began, the mid-thirties are here.

It’s giving, “I can’t believe I’m like, grown, grown now.”
It’s giving, “perimenopause is right around the corner, sis.”
It’s giving, “I ain’t getting any younger.”

It’s giving, I need to be honest with myself.

This isn’t the life I thought I’d have

This is not what I thought life would be like at 35.

And, I know—most people don’t end up with the life they envisioned. This isn’t a unique problem. If anything, it’s a privileged one…

How lucky am I that I get to sit here on this MacBook Pro and write an essay about my life?

When you live in a society that limits access to basic, fundamental needs for many, it’s a privilege to struggle with meeting broader needs that fall under the self-actualization umbrella. That must mean that your physiological and safety needs—food, water, shelter, personal security, health, and resources—must be met.

I have water in my emotional support water bottle, my belly is full, my family is safe, and my candle is providing the perfect ambiance for writing. My children are safe, healthy, and generally happy. I have a loving husband who goes out of his way to make sure I feel loved and cared for. I know there may be women who look at my life and think, “She has it all together—The beautiful children, the loving husband, and the means to homeschool those children. She doesn’t know how good she has it.”

When gratitude and longing co-exist

I often think of this when I find myself in deep pits of this-isn’t-the-life-I-wanted-for-myself despair. How dare I complain when so many are struggling financially, with loss, or longing for someone’s arms to collapse into each night? I look around and there is so much to thank God for—so many prayers that have been answered when I was once that girl who wondered if she would ever find love or if her dream of becoming a mother to daughters would ever come true.

I feel like 25-year-old me would look at 35-year-old me and say, “Girl, what is wrong with you? Don’t you see that your life is the one I’m praying for right now?”

To that response, I would say, “Yes, of course I see that. But, dear mid-twenties Caroline. There is so much you can’t see right now—so much that I want to say to you.”

If I could, I would tell Caroline that she doesn’t realize why she is praying for marriage and motherhood more than she prays for her big dreams to be realized and to fall in love with herself. Of course, marriage and motherhood are some of the biggest desires of her heart, but she’s also lost herself in those desires because she doesn't see her own worth.

A conversation across time

Caroline, you don’t love yourself right now. And you don’t think you’re worthy of dreaming the big thing.

You’ve given up on yourself and your dreams because you don’t think you can handle it. You spent years working toward a career that would bring you joy, fulfillment, and excitement, but you walked away from it out of fear.

You not only fear failure, you fear that if you became all that you wanted to be and fully bet on yourself, your other dream of raising daughters who loved themselves wouldn’t come true. You convinced yourself the two couldn’t coexist—that, to be a good wife and mother, you must throw every other desire of your heart away. And, you believed that you would never be good enough to do everything you dreamt of doing.

So, you played it safe. You stayed comfortable. And, you allowed yourself to get stuck as you pursued marriage and motherhood, convinced that sacrificing yourself was the holy requirement that would make you worthy of love.

That's another thing—you don’t believe you're worthy of love. The abuse you’ve suffered in previous relationships has convinced you that you must prove you’re lovable. So, now that you’re falling in love with your future husband, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself so that he will marry you.

Better to sacrifice yourself than lose a love like this—what if it never comes around again? And, since you just lost the security of your father’s love with his tragic death, you will do anything to fill that void, even if it means forgetting who you are.

She stares back at me with tears brimming her eyes that she doesn’t dare let fall.

Is everything I’m about to embark on a mistake? Should I get married? Should I even bring those kids into the world? I sound so miserable in ten years!

I take a deep breath before I respond.

Of course you should.

You’re wrestling with finding yourself right now but your husband and children are the best things that have ever happened to you. You aren’t wrong for wanting to grab hold of this love. You two become a mighty strong team—weathering every storm together and allowing those storms to strengthen you for the better.

Your children adore you no matter how many mistakes you make and outbursts you have in front of them because you have shown them a love that is pure and you’re actively working to break generational cycles as you parent them.

You’re doing amazing work. You just didn’t realize that you would allow yourself to get lost in the process because you didn’t think you were worthy of being found. See, had you believed you were worthy all along, you could have been all of these things to your family without sacrificing yourself.

Right now, that woman is hiding inside of you—screaming, begging to be freed.

The tears finally begin to fall. She knows I’m right. I’m calling her out.

She’s been hiding the truth from everyone, but she can’t hide from herself. She can’t hide from me. She know’s she’s giving up on herself. She knows she’s running to marriage and motherhood to convince herself that this is better and more holy than honoring the woman she’s dreamt of becoming. She knows the truth—she’s afraid and feels like she will never be worthy of being that woman. The only thing that makes her feel worthy is self-sacrifice.

And, even though she knows I’m right, she also knows that this will be her inevitable path, and the only choice she has is to ride the waves these next ten years will force her to ride as she slowly allows herself to realize that she has been worthy all along.

“What do I do?,” she says.

You let these next ten years teach you just how much you matter.

You have to grow through this heart-wrenching process and allow it to break you open so that you learn how detrimental it is to neglect yourself.

You cannot see that right now. You’re young. And, even though you know I’m right, you’re not at a place now to truly understand what I’m saying.

You will, though. And, when you do. You will leave this version of you behind and finally step into the woman you’ve been neglecting. The past decade of ignoring her will make you even hungrier for her. You won’t allow yourself to stop until she fully emerges from hiding.

And, this will also be a process—a journey just like the last ten years have been. But, it’s a journey you are only able to take because you took the last one.

She reaches out and grabs my hand. She wants to collapse into my arms and cry, but she’s afraid. She hasn’t arrived to that place of pure vulnerability just yet. Neither have I. Perhaps, that’s something our 45-year-old self will have conquered and be able to tell us about in ten years.

For now, I grab her hand. I give it a squeeze and I smile gently at her.

You’re going to be okay. Every step you take is not only worth it, it’s a necessary part of your story.

One step cannot happen without taking the previous one.

So, just step baby girl. And enjoy the ride.

“Oh! And we wrote a book!

We’re having trouble selling it, though, because we don’t know how to put ourselves out there in between caring for kids, never having a moment to think, and still struggling to believe we are worthy of that success. We’re working on it, though.

But, we did that!

And, you don’t know it right now, but deep down, that is one of your dreams. It’s just not the only one.”