I would go back and do things differently.

If I could advise my younger self, I would tell her to avoid some things or choose a different path.

My younger self didn’t know any better. 

We should be gracious with our younger selves and forgive them their bad or impetuous decisions.

I’m working on forgiving my younger self.

I confess to thinking or saying some of these phrases. I have heard them or some variation many times during my life, spoken by friends or those who come to me for counsel. We have this idea that we need to embrace the version of ourselves that lived years or decades before and extend that person forgiveness for their bad decisions.

A few weeks ago I lamented to a friend of mine via DM on Instagram that I wish I had been braver when I was younger. I was not moaning about a lack of knowledge then. On this particular issue I had as much understanding then as I do now, rather I lacked the courage to act on it. I whined that I could have been of better service to my peers and those younger had I the gumption at the time to live according to what I knew. My friend exhibited her usual patience and wisdom, replying simply, “I don’t know. I think the journey is important.”

This too I have spoken on more than one occasion to others, but rarely extend that level of insight to myself. What this friend understands about me is that I, like she, tend to hold myself to much higher standards and expectations. Adept at extending grace to others, I withhold it from myself because I wrongly believe I should know better than everyone else. I accept everyone else to be nothing more than their marvelous human selves. Me on the other hand? I demand of myself much, much more. Where I would gently reprimand a friend for judging their past actions too harshly, I would view the same actions in myself as utter mistakes and foolish travesties born of my own stupid ignorance and failings.

I push and push myself beyond any reasonable expectation for a reasonable level of performance or capability and scorn the concept of burnout for myself. I do not take my own medicine in any way. I encourage friends and clients to pace themselves, take rest when needed, practice self care, and moderate the standards to which they hold themselves. I however should not need such things and find ample excuses to forge onward. I bought a t-shirt for myself this summer that reads, “I will figure it out. -This woman daily.” I wear it to chastise myself with humor. The motto emblazoned on the front has occupied too much space in my mind and been uttered with excessive alacrity from my mouth.

Arrogant and hypocritical, isn’t it?

I have assigned myself the homework of healing from this toxic behavior. I like the many variations I have read or heard on the following idea: Don’t say anything to yourself that you would not say to your friend. That goes for advice and criticism. This simple concept helps me begin to reframe the “shoulds” or expectations to which I hold myself.

For this reason, I fight against the idea that I need to forgive my younger self. I don’t want to forgive her. Forgiveness implies wrongdoing and sinfulness. The word pushes one into shame and to that I say, “No, thank you.” Mary at 13, 15, 18, 23, etc. does not need to address Mary of today on bended knee with a contrite heart. And Mary of today does not need the false ego boost of this image playing in her mind. My goal is to move away from arrogance about my abilities and perceived wisdom, not towards them. 

Younger me deserves no forgiveness because she didn’t mess up. Younger me did not willfully step onto ill-advised paths or choose paths that screamed “Bad Idea!”. No, she did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time.

I don’t want to seek charity for her or ask for contrition. Her path led me to where I am today, and that’s not so bad. Sure, I have and will continue to ride over rough patches and dip down into potholes. I cannot escape the inevitable steep drops or mountainside that loom ahead. I simply no longer wish to hold past, present or future Mary to any standard that belies the fact that I, in fact, do not hold all worldly knowledge and insight inside my brain. 

I suppose I need to win from myself forgiveness for being unrealistic and harsh, especially regarding my own abilities. Or perhaps I need forgiveness for an ego that assumes too much of myself. 

Sometimes with my children I talk about the “bully in my brain”. We all have ADHD and negative self talk presents as a near universal symptom. Mine rears up predictably at the most inopportune time. She loves to tell me I’m a horrible mother, should have been a financial genius or at least less of a failure, I’m lazy for not waking every morning at 5 to lift weights and run for 1.5 hours every morning, I should have more self discipline to enforce strict vegan diet on myself for better health, and more. She’s good at her job, employing often her favorite weapon: imposter syndrome.

But what do we know of bullies? Neither yelling back nor cowering heal them. You don’t out-bully a bully. The taste of their own medicine yields zero healing. Bullies instead need love and affection, same as the rest of us. Understanding, patience, and a willingness to examine more difficult truths from past experiences quiet their booming voices because those actions actively heal both bully and victim. 

No, I won’t be forgiving my younger self. I no longer will gaslight her to believe she should have known the impossible or anticipated what never could have been seen. Instead I make a promise to her to turn my attention to the bully who would call her out and make her shrink. I need to afford the bully less authority and more patience. Her bluster betrays her insecurity and I have ignored her for too long.

How about it? Care to join me in this work? I imagine I am not alone in this sentiment or experience. I wager most of us truly are our own worst critics.