People often say: “Twenty year old me would be so proud of 30-year old me.” But really, would it be?

Would twenty year old me genuinely proud of me now?

I mean I am not a millionaire – duh.

I do not have 4 kids. 4 kids? at 30? really?

I am not that certain weight that 20 year old me wanted me to be – which now I know I physically can achieve only if I cut off my leg.

I don’t live in New York.

and, alas, I never made it to 30 under 30.

But I lived.

I lost myself, and then I found myself again. I let others decide, and slowly learned how to make my own choices. I forgot the dreams I had, and let the noises, the hustle, the social media silence them.

I found my dreams. I threw some dreams away, because they no longer served me. I kept dreams that mattered, and created new ones.

20 year old me, looking at me, for sure would judge.

But I learned not to care about judgement of others.

20 year old me, I’m sorry. But I guess… I guess I am fine.

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by Nadia P., July 2023