I Met My Younger Self For Coffee
To celebrate my birthday last Sunday, I channeled the poet, Jennae Cecelia and imagined meeting up with my younger self for coffee. This week’s post shares how it went.
She was late and a bit frazzled.
As she pulled into the parking lot, I heard the wheels of her minivan squeal.
I immediately recognized the blonde bob—the one with the bangs, the one that would turn orange in the Florida sun if she didn’t keep up with the monthly maintenance.
“You’re a brunette,” she says, looking surprised.
“Yeah, it was part of my get real strategy,” I tell her.
“Huh,” She is dismissive as she orders a chai latte.
“I can’t figure out if I like coffee,” she tells me.
“You will,” I say, pointing to my extra large house brew.
“How have you been?” I ask her.
“Really good,” she tells me.
I know she is lying, even if just to herself.
She told me she’d be happier -once the business was making real money, the kids got into school, and she had more time to herself.
I asked about her family, her friends, and her marriage. She gave me the standard canned answer: “Everything is great.”
“It seems like there is a lot to do for everyone,” I tell her.
“There is.” She is matter of fact.
“You don’t have to do all of it, you know. It’s okay not to do it all.”
She tells me it’s not worth it. She doesn’t want to deal with the fallout.
“It’s easier to go along and keep the peace.”
“For now, it might be,” I tell her. “But it won’t always be that way.”
She wasn’t sure.
My heart filled with compassion for her. She was so worried about doing it wrong and getting it wrong. What a burden she carried—burdens that were not even hers.
She assures me things will get better once he gets a better schedule, once she can figure out the summer plans, and once this ‘busy time’ is over.
once he…
once they…
once it…
She is always waiting for tomorrow.
She doesn’t yet realize she is not considered in her marriage and other key relationships in her life, and no amount of calendaring or organization or showing up will change that.
“You cannot get blood from a stone,” I say.
She looks confused and tells me she knows that. But she doesn’t know that.
“Some people in your life won’t be able to love you the way you need them to, the way you want them to. No amount of doing for them will change that. It’s ok to walk away from things that aren’t working for you."
It’s ok to go your own way. You can trust your instincts and intuition.”
She stares blankly, then looks away.
“You will leave him,” I tell her.
“I would never do that - break up my family - I would never.” She stutters.
She doesn’t know yet that she ends up doing almost everything she swore she’d never do in spades.
“You lose your intact family, but you find yourself. You will dig deep and unearth who you really are- the person the world has buried - shovel after shovel of dirt and mud and sticks and debris- with every expectation and rule you’ve been told to live by.
Your life will change drastically from where you are now- or it can anyway. You’ll need to make some difficult decisions; things you never thought possible, things you thought were long gone and out of reach, will be unearthed along with your very soul.”
I knew it was too early to tell her she was running scared right now - running from her pain, from herself - that she had created a whole life out of this sprint.
“You’ll stop drinking,” I tell her.
“That’s unlikely,” she says flatly. “Why would I do that?”
“You decide you want a life so much bigger than numbing and hangovers. You decide you are tired of running.”
She tells me she has to leave.
“I only have two hours between the last drop-off and the first pickup,” she says.
I remember.
We stand, and she hugs me - an obligatory thing she does out of habit because it is the polite thing to do. I wonder if she even wants to hug me. I can tell I’ve opened something up in her. She’s shaking slightly.
She feels resentful - it’s hard for her to be close to others when she feels vulnerable.
“You don’t have to try so hard,” I whisper in her ear.
I have nothing but compassion and love for this young woman who is simply doing her best.
She leaves- I sit down, finish my coffee, and admire how far she’s come.
LYLAS -
S
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