Dear Former Me,

You’ve spent most of your life feeling like you were too much.

Too loud.

Too emotional.

Too dramatic.

Too sensitive.

Too ambitious.

Too expressive.

At least, that’s what people told you.

You were told that nobody cared about your feelings.

That nobody wanted to hear what you had to say.

That the world didn’t revolve around you.

And maybe they’re right.

Maybe the world doesn’t revolve around you.

But does that mean you’re not allowed to exist in it?

Does that mean your voice doesn’t matter?

Does that mean your dreams should be ignored?

Somewhere along the way, you started shrinking yourself.

You stopped speaking up.

You stopped sharing your thoughts.

You stopped believing that what you had to say was important.

You learned how to make yourself smaller so other people would feel more comfortable.

You learned how to dim your light.

And the saddest part is that after a while, you started doing it to yourself.

You became your own critic.

Your own bully.

Your own limitation.

But lately, something has been waking up inside of you.

A desire to create.

To write.

To perform.

To express yourself.

To be seen.

And every time you get close, that old voice comes back.

Who do you think you are?

Why do you need attention?

Why can’t you just be normal?

But maybe wanting to be seen isn’t the same thing as wanting attention.

Maybe wanting to share your gifts isn’t selfish.

Maybe wanting a little corner of the world where you can fully be yourself isn’t arrogance.

Maybe it’s human.

Because if we’re being honest, you’ve spent enough of your life making yourself smaller.

You’ve spent enough of your life asking permission.

You’ve spent enough of your life waiting for someone else to tell you that you’re worthy.

I think I’m going to do something crazy.

I think I’m going to do something radical.

I think I’m going to say yes to myself.

I think I’m going to stop waiting for permission.

I think I’m going to stop asking whether I’m allowed to take up space.

I think I’m going to get back into music.

And honestly?

That terrifies me.

Because what if I fail?

What if nobody listens?

What if nobody cares?

What if they’re right about me?

But what if they’re wrong?

What if there’s more waiting for me on the other side of fear?

What if there’s a version of me I’ve never met because I’ve spent so much time trying to stay small?

What if, for once, I choose myself?

Not over my children.

Not over my responsibilities.

Not over the people I love.

But alongside them.

What if I finally give myself permission to dream again?

We tell our children every day that they can become anything they want to be.

We tell them to believe in themselves.

To use their voice.

To follow their dreams.

To never give up.

So why don’t we offer ourselves the same advice?

Why do we stop believing?

Why do we stop trying?

Maybe believing there’s more out there for you isn’t delusional.

Maybe it’s hope.

Maybe it’s faith.

Or maybe it’s the part of you that remembers who you were before the world convinced you to shrink.

Maybe this next chapter isn’t about becoming someone new.

Maybe it’s about becoming who you’ve been all along.

And maybe it’s finally time to take up space.

Love,
Evelyn