Yes, I've hopped on the 'I met my younger self for a coffee' train
And no, I don't regret it
I met my younger self for coffee…
She was 20 minutes early. I was 10 minutes early because change can only go so far.
She was 23, I was 32.
She walked in wearing black skinny jeans, a jumper, and a denim fleece-lined jacket, her bleached blonde hair falling past her shoulders. I sat there in flowing white linen trousers, dangly earrings catching the light, shorter styled hair with a long fringe and a chai latte warming my hands.
She ordered a large cappuccino and banana pancakes. I smiled—of course, she did. I had avo toast.
She couldn’t believe I was still single. I couldn’t believe how much she thought her happiness depended on a romantic relationship.
She was surprised I didn’t own a house, wasn’t married, and had no kids. She thought I’d have “grown up” by now. I told her I had—just not in the way she imagined.
I told her we lived in London for eight years, made memories that will last a lifetime, dated men but never settled, and one day, we walked away from it all. We quit the high-flying job, packed a bag, and travelled solo again—this time, on and off for over a year. And in that time, we fell in love—with ourselves.
She stared at me, wide-eyed, taking it all in. “We did what?”
I told her we own an online women’s magazine, that we work with brands we actually care about, that we’re a marketing strategist and breathwork teacher for female founders. We built a life on our terms. A life that feels right.
I told her we don’t exercise because we think we have to anymore. We move because we love to. We surf regularly now, feeling the rhythm of the sea, letting it carry us rather than trying to fight it. We appreciate nature in ways we never did before.
I told her we’re becoming more spiritual, that the more we practice breathwork, the less anxious we feel. That the constant hum of overthinking has faded, replaced by something softer, something more certain. That we no longer have a hand tremor. That our OCD has loosened its grip. That our asthma is gone.
That we aren’t really scared of much anymore.
She was stunned into silence, surprised by how confident we had become. I was stunned by how much she still doubted herself.
She asked about Mum, Dad, and my brother. I hesitated. “It’s complicated,” I said. Mum has a brain tumour. Dad’s getting a pacemaker. Our brother is married with three kids. Life looks different now, but there is so much love there.
Her face softened. “But… we’re okay?”
I smiled.
“We finally feel confident. Sexy. Alive in our own skin.”
“We’re better than okay. We’re free.”
_
Some images from my first solo travel trip aged 23 - in Bali, Australia and New Zealand. I look so young but also a little self-conscious. The sense of self through fashion is not there - simply put, I had no idea who I was.
Here are a few images from the last few months whilst I’ve been travelling in the same places - Bali and Australia. What a difference 9 years makes - hey?!
Healthier now than then, more glowing, fitter and stronger, so much more confident but eyesight is significantly worse!!
