"Did you ever kiss a girl?" she asked

A conversation with my younger self

It was a sunny morning when I took a seat by the window. I was a few minutes early.

She rushed in fifteen minutes later, seeming a bit frantic about keeping me waiting. Her hair and make-up were perfect. Mine were not.

She loaded her coffee with cream and sugar and lit a cigarette (this is an imaginary conversation so cigarettes are allowed), I sipped my oat milk latte, watching her with curiosity and a bit of alarm.

(This is a story about meeting my younger self. It’s not an original idea, yet the questions and ideas are all ours, mine and hers. I began thinking about what we would say to each other after coming across a similar story online — sorry I have no attribution for the original essay as it’s been circulating in various forms for years. I’ve found it an interesting exercise to see the conversation through, imagining it happening. Perhaps you would like to try it and see what would happen if you had coffee with your younger self.)

This version of me lives between my younger and older self. I wonder what she would have to say?

I was a little in awe of her sense of ease and belonging. She seemed to bring energy to the table that filled our space with a hum of potential. It made me realize this unspoken realm-of-possibility no longer exists in me, or if it does it’s buried under many layers.

She asked if I had become the person she wanted to be.

I hesitated to answer that loaded question. When a younger self meets her older self, there are bound to be surprises.

She wondered about my life now and grinned when I told her I had two amazing sons and seemed surprised when I told her I had been married to the same guy for thirty years. She reminded me that she wasn’t sure she could get on board with lifelong monogamy. I replied that it’s amazing how that can change once she meets the right person.

She asked me if I ever kissed a girl and seemed quite shattered when I told her I had not. The opportunity had never really presented itself.

She asked why I hadn’t stayed in California, or Alberta, or Texas and seemed to grasp it when I told her that British Columbia is my soul-home. There is nowhere else like it, and I don’t see myself ever leaving. She was not at all convinced about the small-town idea though.

She choked on her coffee when I told her that many years ago, I made the decision to quit drinking and have stayed sober since. She could not absorb this news. It was as if I had dropped a time-bomb and she could see her partying days were limited. She loves drinking, she loves her job in the bars, she loves it all. I know she is currently unable to see her life without alcohol. I wish there was some way I could get through to her.

She loved that I followed my calling and became a chiropractor, that I’ve been in private practice for thirty years. When I told her about my other work, speaking and writing, she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t a bigger name - she thought I should be famous by now. I explained that it was never my goal to be famous or to write a book — that having a family and private practice took most of my time and I love the online community I have built that continues to grow. She wasn’t on board and implied I simply didn’t try and prioritize it enough. I laughed.

She asked if I had kept all my journals because she had just been writing in one that morning. I gently explained the difficult decision to get rid of all of them. Decades of writing - gone. She wondered if it felt like, in taking that big step, I had erased her. I stopped to think about this, to consider my intention in getting rid of everything. I explained my desire to start fresh, to bring forward the best parts of the young me and the now me. I no longer want to dwell on things that aren’t going right and, instead, move forward with a clear path. I don’t know if she bought it because she’s young, resistant and learning. Hell, I don’t know if I even buy it.

I urged her to look at things with a wider lens, to be cautious of that passive aggressive imprint from our childhood. I could tell she didn’t like it when I mentioned that because she didn’t respond (which is exactly what our Dad would have done). I hope her rough edges and sense of righteousness are softened by introspection, and she can let go of the need to people please much sooner than I did. I told her to hold on to her sense of possibility and vibrant energy because they are a beautiful part of her. She looked at me as if I was nuts because, in her mind, it will last forever and there is no other way.

Everyone always says they feel like the same person they were when they were young. I find this to be true because I don’t feel like I’m as old as I am, but it’s also not true because I’m no longer that person. I love that I’ve had the experiences she created but I am also happy with where I’ve landed in my mind, body, and soul (corny, but true!)

This was a useful exercise for me as I pondered the questions my younger self may have about my life now. It made me realize that as we move through life we might have to be more intentional about embracing a sense of possibility—more than we did when we were younger—because I really believe it’s something that’s always there, no matter our age.

xoxo Donna

P.S. I’m working on an essay about something that causes a lot of division in our world…the idea that everything happens for a reason! I’m looking forward to diving deep because it’s fascinating how polarizing the idea is. Stay tuned Hon and please fire me an email if you have an opinion.

I’d love to know if you ever met your younger self? How did it go? Years ago, in meditation, I met my ten year old and seventy-one year old self at once. It was a pivotal experience that has stuck with me. Do you think it would be useful to have a meeting with a different version of you? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

If comments aren’t your thing you can always email me at donnamcarthur@substack.com. I LOVE to hear from my readers because I think you’re awesome and I appreciate you being here.

Lastly Dear One, please drop a ❤️ because it reminds the Substack folks that I am plugging away over here.

I think you’re amazing and I appreciate you being here. May you be well.