Me and Older Me

Sometimes I think about sitting across from the older version of me. 

The healed me. 

The wiser me. 

The me who survived what I thought would break me.

I wonder what she would say.

Would she smile softly and tell me to stop carrying things that were never mine to hold. 

Would she remind me that not every thought deserved agreement?

Not every feeling deserved authority. 

Not every wound deserved a permanent home.

I think she would tell me that healing was slower than I wanted, but deeper than I imagined. 

That I spent too many years measuring my worth by who stayed, who called, who noticed, who approved.

And then one day, I finally learned to breathe without needing permission.

Older me would probably say: “You were never ruined. Never forgotten. Never too far gone.

You were learning how to become whole.”

Body. Soul. Spirit.

Coming into agreement with who God created you to be.

Today I look at her and say: “Thank you for not giving up on us.”

God wins.