Notes to My Younger Self
What Twenty-Five Years of Life Have Been Teaching Me
Learning to notice what is already there
I know that twenty-five years is just a small part of a lifetime. Many people have lived much longer than I have and have felt more joy, heartbreak, success, and failure. I still have a lot to learn, and I hope I always feel that way. These aren’t lessons from someone who has life all figured out. They’re simply thoughts from someone who has started to pay closer attention. I write them down because I’ve chosen to live what I call a literate life, where thoughts don’t just disappear, where I reflect on my experiences instead of rushing past them, and where writing helps me understand both the world and me. If any of these words speak to you, I’m grateful. I just want to share a small part of the world as I’ve come to know it.
Somewhere in these first twenty-five years, I’ve come to really love life. It’s not because life has been easy or because things always go as planned, but because I’ve learned to notice it. I pay attention to things I used to miss, like the sound of rain on the window, morning light in my studio, the smell of candles burning while I write at night, the quiet of nature before the day begins, laughter at the dinner table, and the comfort of sitting with people I care about. As an artist, I think I’ve become more aware of these quiet moments. They’ve shown me that life’s richness isn’t just in big events, but in the ordinary moments that happen every day. The more I notice the world around me, the more I love being part of it.
As I get older, I care less about reaching a certain place and more about who I am becoming. Success, recognition, and achievement still matter, but I don’t measure my life by them anymore. What matters most is if I’m kinder than I was yesterday, more patient with others, learning to forgive more easily, living honestly, and helping people around me feel seen and loved. I’ve learned that becoming a better person is something you work on your whole life, not something you finish. Each morning is a new chance to start again, and it’s freeing to know that growth comes from many small choices made over time.
Letting go of comparison has been one of the greatest freedoms I’ve found. For years, I compared my life to others, thinking they were ahead, or I was behind. But I’ve realized that kind of comparison doesn’t make sense. Everyone has their own story, struggles, gifts, chances, and dreams. We’re not meant to follow the same path. The only life I truly have is my own, and my job is to care for it, not to become someone else. There’s peace in accepting who you are while still growing into who you can be.
Being an artist has made these beliefs even stronger. Painting has shown me that truly seeing is more important than just looking. It’s taught me to slow down and notice how light changes, how colors shift, how birds move, and how beauty often appears to those who are patient. Being an artist isn’t just about making art. It’s about paying attention, staying curious, and believing that beauty can shape us. The more I watch nature, the more I learn about myself. I believe a meaningful life starts with learning to really see.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that no one lives a meaningful life alone. Every chance I’ve had come because someone believed in me before I believed in myself. My parents, family, mentors, teachers, friends, and many others whose kindness I’ll never forget have shaped who I’m becoming. Their generosity reminds me that none of us gets here by ourselves. We carry a part of everyone who has loved, encouraged, forgiven, or supported us. I hope I never get so focused on my own goals that I forget to thank those who helped me along the way.
If I could tell my younger self anything, it would be this: never lose your love for life. Keep noticing the small things most people miss. Keep spending time in nature. Keep making art, even if no one is watching. Keep writing because it helps you understand yourself. Keep saying yes to adventure, even when it feels scary. Protect your sensitivity, even though the world may try to toughen you. Be kind, especially when it’s hard. Forgive yourself for your mistakes, because they help you become who you’re meant to be. Tell the people you love that you love them often, because tomorrow isn’t promised. Most of all, always believe there’s beauty to be found in the everyday rhythm of life.
I don’t know where the next twenty-five years will take me. I know there will be times of failure, uncertainty, disappointment, and loss. But I also know there will be new friendships, paintings that surprise me, conversations I’ll remember for years, mornings full of gratitude, and many chances to keep growing into the person I want to be. For now, that’s enough. I wake up each day grateful to be here. I write to remember. I paint to see. I love it because life has shown me that love is always worth giving. If these first twenty-five years have taught me anything, it’s that the secret to a meaningful life is not to rush through it, but to notice it, cherish it, and live it fully while we can.