When life gets tough — when putting one foot in front of the other feels harder than staying still — I find strength in imagining what my future self would say to me right now.
It’s become a powerful tool. A way to lift myself from the heaviness of the present and reconnect with the bigger picture — to see my life beyond this moment of pain or struggle. Because although now feels like everything, life has taught me something important: everything is temporary — even the hard parts.
Sometimes, the hardest moments are actually stepping stones toward something better — something we can’t yet see from where we stand.
So, if you’re struggling to cope with life right now too, I want to share this personal insight and the practice that’s helping me heal. Maybe it will help you, too.
Dear me,
I know right now feels heavy — like you’re holding your breath and trying to hold everything together at once. But I’m writing to tell you: You make it through this.
I’m here, living the life you’re fighting so hard to build — the one with more peace, purpose, and support. It didn’t happen overnight, but it happened because of everything you’re doing now, even when it feels like nothing is working.
I can’t tell you exactly what will happen — because not knowing is part of our journey. But I can tell you this: your strength, your drive, your resilience — that’s what gets you through. I know you’re hurting. You’re carrying a weight no one should bear alone — and yet, you are. And not only will you survive this, you will thrive.
I write to you from a future where work is meaningful and aligned with your dreams and values. A future where your strengths make a real difference in other people’s lives. You may not have everything you ever wanted — but you’ll have something better: everything you truly need.
I’m in awe of what you’re achieving in such difficult times. And I want to thank you. Thank you for not giving up. Thank you for pushing toward the future we dreamed of — the one I now live in, and the one you’re walking toward with every brave, exhausted step. Thank you for chasing your vision, even when it felt like no one thought it possible.
Without your light, your strength, your courage — I wouldn’t be here today.
The redundancies won’t matter. The people who tried to break you only made you more determined. And it’s been a long time since you even thought about them.
I know it feels lonely right now — like you’re fighting on too many fronts. But unlike most, you have a rare gift: you see light in the darkness, opportunity in chaos. You don’t surrender to dread. You pick up the pieces and do something meaningful to get us out — again and again. You do the hardest part alone, but you always have your family and friends walking beside you to help you carry whatever load you’re able to share.
You adapt. You grow. You find light even in collapse.
And here’s the truth — things might get harder for a while. That’s because you’re not just releasing the toxic or the painful — you’re breaking generational patterns. You are carrying not only the weight of your own life, but also what came before you, and what comes after. Your strength will inspire those who came before, and your courage will spare those who come next. You are doing the hardest work — for all of us.
I am so proud of everything you’re holding — and everything you’re finally releasing.
Even if you can’t see the bridge from the old life to the new, trust that it will appear when the time comes.
And even through all this — all the uncertainty, the pain — you still show up for your child. You turn into a pirate ship, a crazy horsey. You give voices to toys, dance like there’s no tomorrow when your daughter’s favourite song plays in the living room — all of that to make her childhood more special. That’s what she’ll remember. Not the times you cracked. But the times you kept showing up.
I know being alive right now feels like a burden. But keep your dreams close to your chest — because they’re about to become real, and sooner than you think.
You are not failing.
You’re transforming.
I’ll be here waiting, with sunlight already on our face.
With all my love,
Your future self
(The one who rested. Who healed. Who built a life that finally feels like home.)
What would your future self say to you right now? What words of love, wisdom, or reassurance would you want to hear?
Feel free to share in the comments — your voice might be exactly what someone else needs to read today. And if this post touched you, please consider sharing it with someone who might be going through a hard time too. You never know who could use a reminder that they’re not alone, and that better days are coming.
If you want to know more about my journey — from navigating neurodivergence and parenting, to experiences with domestic abuse, mental health, and eating disorders — keep an eye on this blog, launching on July 2nd. And don’t miss my podcast Intersecting Voices, launching July 9th, where I’ll be sharing inspiring stories of identity and resilience from many incredible guests.
The Intersectional Hub 
Leave a comment