Dear Younger Me (and Everyone Feeling a Little Tired Right Now),

So… first of all: hey.

I know you weren’t expecting a letter, especially not from yourself. But I figured you deserved a little heads-up about how things turned out — especially since you’ve spent so much time wondering what being an adult would actually feel like.

Spoiler alert: You were right to be confused.

You had a lot of questions. You weren’t sure if adulthood was supposed to make sense. You thought by the time we hit our grown-up years, life would feel clear — maybe even simple.
Honestly? It doesn’t.

Life has been... a lot. It swept me away from things I love — like writing. Blogging used to be my favorite way to breathe, to make sense of everything, to feel like myself. But somewhere between survival mode, endless group chats, surviving my pre-teen daughter (and my adult daughter — yes, both are their own adventures), and pushing through “just one more thing,” I stopped writing.

And I’ve missed it. Deeply.

So — I’m back.
(I know, I’ve said that before. But this time I mean it... maybe. I’m human.)
I’m returning to the one thing that has always made me feel the most me — and I’m doing it by writing to you.

Let's Catch Up.

First of all: no, we don’t have flying cars.

We do, however, have cars that charge you monthly for heated seats.
Everything is a subscription now — music, TV, food deliveries, therapy apps, meditation sounds, storage space for all the photos you’ll never look at again… Honestly, peace of mind might also be a monthly upgrade.

You were hoping for hoverboards.
I think everyone was hoping adulthood would be a little more Jetsons, a little less “12 open tabs and a dead phone battery.”

Instead, we got high-speed Wi-Fi and more ways to feel overwhelmed — and more disconnected from each other.

Adulting? It’s Not What You Think.

You imagined freedom — finally getting to do what you want, when you want.
Technically, yes. But practically? It looks a lot like exhaustion with better skincare. Wishing we had taken those naps in preschool. Or even planning our financial future instead of playing with blocks and riding bikes after school. 

Adulthood is:

• Sending emails where “just following up” means “please respond.”

• Googling how to master the perfect plank... again.

• Budgeting for fun things like tires and insurance deductibles.

• Getting way too excited about an organized spice rack.

• Pretending you know what you’re doing while secretly texting a friend:
  “Do I need to unplug my Wi-Fi to reset it?”

The Internet: Therapy, Chaos, and Capitalism

You’re going to spend more hours than you'd like to admit reading deep-dive threads on things like “Why Tony the Tiger is secretly a corporate propaganda tool.”

Social media turned into a chaotic mashup of therapy, news, capitalism, and personal branding.
Everyone has a podcast. An opinion. A brand. And above all — everyone’s tired.

We post less now, but we scroll more.
We consume everything and retain almost nothing.
And when we try to unplug? We end up watching “how to stop doomscrolling” videos... while doomscrolling.

It’s exhausting — and honestly, it’s not just you.
It’s all of us.

(And yes — doomscrolling fatigue is real. I’ll be writing about that next. You’ll want to read it.)

When Did Self-Care Get So Complicated?

We thought being adults meant being free.
But a lot of the time? It just means being burnt out in cute sweatpants, messy buns, and glasses — because everyone wears them after a certain age. LOL.

We live in a world that expects us to do it all —
Work hard. Be emotionally intelligent.
Mind our business, but stay aware of everyone else's.
Hit the gym. Drink water. Practice mindfulness. Stay calm.
Every day feels like a performance review we didn’t ask for.

You’re not lazy — you’re overwhelmed.
There’s a difference.

Self-care used to be simple: naps, music, your favorite snacks.
Now it’s “optimized” morning routines, expensive spas, $42 candles, gratitude journals with push notifications, and guided breathing apps that stress you out more than they calm you.

Some days, the best self-care I’ve found is just turning off my phone and lying face-down in silence.
No candles. No mantras. Just… quiet.

What I Hope Never Changes About You

Here’s what I love about you — and what I hope never fades:

You noticed the noise.
You felt the disconnect.
You questioned everything that didn’t sit right.

You weren’t trying to be rebellious — you were just aware.
And in 2025? Awareness is rare.

Everyone’s numbing. Scrolling. Avoiding.
So don’t ever feel weird for being the one who feels too much.
For asking the questions no one else wants to say out loud.

It’s your greatest strength.

Here’s the Truth (In Case You’re Still Wondering)

If you’re reading this from wherever you are in time, wondering if life will make more sense “later,” here’s the truth:

It won’t.
Life gets more confusing and more expensive.

But you’ll grow stronger anyway.

You’ll learn:

• That rest is not laziness — it’s sacred.

• That boundaries aren’t selfish — they’re survival.

• That “no” is a complete sentence.

• That not everything needs to be posted, optimized, or monetized.
  Some things are better kept private — just for you and your inner circle.

And most importantly:
That writing — your outlet, your lifeline — will always be there, waiting for you to come home to it.

I’m back now.
Writing again. Feeling a little more like myself again.
And it all starts with this letter.

This isn’t just for me.
It’s for all of us who feel like our day-to-day can be too much sometimes.

Next time, we’ll talk about the scroll — the endless feed — and how it’s reshaping our brains.
You’ve probably already felt it.
It’s called doomscrolling fatigue, and it’s creeping into everyone’s life whether they admit it or not.

But we’ll get to that soon.

For now, just know:

You were right to be confused.
You’re allowed to be tired.
And you’re doing better than you think.

With love — and just the right amount of sarcasm,
Me (But Older. And Slightly Wiser.)