Today, I will talk about why we should sometimes write a letter to our past selves—the ones who were young but already possessed a power they couldn't explain.
For a long time, I couldn't decide whether it made sense to write a letter to myself – to that younger version of me who is long gone, but still lives somewhere inside me. I didn't know if it served any purpose, if it would help, or if I would even be able to be honest with her.
But today, I feel differently.
I think it's right to look back – not to judge, but to embrace. Sometimes I catch myself talking to myself. About what was, what I would have liked to know then, how it all connects to today. And when you connect that with your feelings and the awareness that every step – even the difficult ones – has shaped your inner strength, you feel that it would be really nice if you could say something to yourself. To yourself. Back then.
That's why I'm writing this letter today. As an exercise, as a reminder, as love. Maybe one day you'll write one too.
My dear 10-year-old self,
sometimes I wish I could hug you—not because you weren't enough, but because even then you were too special to be fully understood. You may not have known it, but even then you had extraordinary intuition. And even though you sometimes struggled, it didn't mean you were incapable. It just meant you were different. And that difference is your greatest gift.
Everything you set out to do, you succeeded at. Because you were stubborn in the best sense of the word. Even back then, you knew deep down that you were destined for great things. If someone had told you that seriously, you would probably have raised your voice and set boundaries. But they didn't understand – not even when you started behaving differently at 18, realizing that from now on you were responsible for yourself. They didn't understand that you weren't losing yourself – you were finding yourself.
I want to tell you that your courage is greater than you have ever admitted. You followed your dreams, even when you were afraid. And you never worried about the price if you got your inner peace in return.
I remember how severe stage fright could paralyze you. In front of the class, in front of people, before performances. Your heart was pounding and your legs were shaking. But look at you now – you stood tall in the theater and proved that you don't overcome stage fright by hiding, but by facing it head on. By showing that you can do it. And you did.
That's when you started dreaming about theater. Maybe not out loud yet, but enough to catch the train in time and live that dream for four years. Your teacher said you were in love with theater—and she was right. You were. And you're still in love with creating.
Perhaps this is another difficult period – a new environment, new people, new questions. But remember: better days are coming. Bigger things are coming. Even bigger than you can imagine today. And yes – success is coming too. In many areas.
If I could whisper something to you today, it would be: “I'm sorry you doubted yourself. And thank you for never giving up.”
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Hugs,
Eva.
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