The Rush, The Realization, The Reset

If I could sit down with my 25-year-old self, here’s what I’d tell her. Staying in the now isn’t always easy, but it’s the engine that keeps us moving—one foot in front of the other, one choice at a time.

There are plenty of things from my 20s and 30s I don’t miss—things I’ve outgrown or simply no longer have the energy for. Late nights at the club that bled into early mornings, clawing my way out of credit card debt, and setting an aggressive countdown clock for every milestone. Looking back, I was in a hurry—a hurry to hit promotions, income goals, achievements, to check as many boxes as possible.

For what?

No one else set those timelines—it was me, pushing myself, maybe harder than necessary. I feared that if I slowed down, the bottom would fall out. Independence was something I learned early. As a product of the latchkey generation, we were built differently: gritty, self-reliant, masters of “if you want something done right, do it yourself.” So I kept going. Kept reaching. Kept improving.

That drive paid off—a solid career, steady promotions, three degrees, a first home. But that same drive left little room for reflection. I was always asking what’s next?

Then a shift happened. In my mid-30s, a colleague once asked me something I’d never considered:

“Have you ever thought about just being still for a bit?”

Still? The concept was completely foreign to me. Autopilot was all I knew. Being still felt like failure. That question stuck—and it’s stayed with me ever since. It’s my sanity check when I start to feel out of sync.

It became a quiet turning point. I started to realize I could be proud of myself without chasing the next goal. I could celebrate where I was, and how far I’d come - not just where I was headed. That small shift changed everything.

Over time, I’ve come to believe everything happens for a reason—not in the cliché sense, but in how each detour, delay, and rejection shapes who we become. Some lessons were painful. Others stretched my grace or patience. But all of them brought me here—with more clarity, compassion, and courage.

So what would I tell my younger self?

You are exactly where you’re meant to be.
Don’t rush it. Everything will work out.

Regret often speaks in the language of if only.
If only I had…
If only I knew…
If only I’d tried sooner…

I like to flip that script—from if only to what if.

If only I had taken more risks → What if I still can?

If only I had chosen differently → What if I choose differently now?

That tiny shift opens the door to possibility instead of guilt. It means moving forward with purpose. It’s how we honor who we’ve been without letting her hold us back.

Staying in motion doesn’t mean running from the past. It means carrying what we’ve learned forward.

When regret whispers, flip the script and let it remind you not of what’s missing, but of what’s still possible.

Now the question becomes:
Where do you want to go next?

Until next time – be a good HUMAN ✨