By Michelle Allen
If I could sit across from my 20‑year‑old self—wide‑eyed, hopeful, and carrying more questions than answers—I think the first thing I’d do is simply take her hands in mine. Not to warn her. Not to redirect her. But to reassure her.
Because she had no idea how much life she was about to live.
I wouldn’t spoil the story for her. I wouldn’t tell her about the love she would find, the family she would build, or the heartbreak that would one day reshape her entire world. I wouldn’t tell her about the nights she would cry on the kitchen floor, or the mornings she would rise anyway. I wouldn’t tell her that she would return to college at nearly 60, or that she would discover a strength she didn’t yet know she had.
But I would tell her this:
“You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to keep going.”
At 20, I thought life was a straight line—pick a path, follow it, and hope it leads somewhere meaningful. What I didn’t understand then is that life is more like a river. It bends. It widens. It narrows. It rushes. It slows. And sometimes, it carves an entirely new direction when you least expect it.
I would tell her that the things she worries about now—being enough, doing enough, becoming enough—will soften with time. She will learn that “enough” isn’t something she earns; it’s something she already is.
I would tell her that the mistakes she fears making will become the very experiences that shape her compassion. That the detours she sees as failures will one day become the stories she shares to help others feel less alone.
I would tell her that grief will visit her, and it will change her—but it will not end her. It will deepen her. It will teach her to love more fiercely, to listen more closely, and to show up for others in ways she never imagined.
I would tell her that starting over at any age is not a sign of being lost—it’s a sign of being brave.
And maybe most of all, I would tell her this:
“Trust the woman you are becoming. She is stronger, wiser, and more resilient than you can possibly imagine.”
If she could see me now—sitting in classrooms again, writing stories that reach people across the world, building dreams that didn’t even exist in her vocabulary—she would realize that life doesn’t shrink with age. It expands. It deepens. It becomes richer with every chapter.
So what would I tell my 20‑year‑old self?
“You’re going to grow into a woman you’ll be proud of. Keep going. Keep learning. Keep loving. The best parts of your story are still ahead.”
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