Sometimes I wonder what my younger self would think if she could see me now.

I think she’d be a little stunned. Maybe ask where the hell we got the money for all this. (Poverty has a way of making you very good at creative accounting.)

But mostly, I think she’d be proud.

Proud that we kept going. Through toxic environments, closed doors, scarce resources, and the exhausting business of building networks when you don’t necessarily have a seat at the table. Through the calculated cruelties of people who seemed determined to see us fail. Through the moments when getting back up felt less like inspiration and more like an administrative requirement.

And yet, here we are.

Every time life knocked me down, I found a way to rise. Not always gracefully. Sometimes with tears, a few choice words, and a truly impressive internal monologue. But I rose.

Resilience isn’t always a triumphant soundtrack. Sometimes it’s just getting up on Tuesday and refusing to let yesterday have the last word.

Does that mean I’ve forgotten everything? Absolutely not. Forgiven everyone? Let’s not get carried away. I’m a psychologist, not a saint. And frankly, sainthood sounds like a job with terrible boundaries.

But maybe that’s the next chapter of my evolution. Learning that I can honor what happened without carrying every wound into the future. That letting go doesn’t mean what happened was acceptable. It means I no longer want it taking up so much real estate in my head.

My younger self didn’t know how everything would turn out. She just kept moving, hoping the next door would open.

If I could talk to her now, I’d tell her this:

You were never as powerless as they wanted you to believe. You built a life they couldn’t have imagined for you. And you did it without becoming the person who tried to break you.

And then I’d give her a hug and whisper the quote I wish someone had told us years ago

“Revenge is living well. Healing is when you no longer need an audience.”

Maybe that’s the real victory. Not proving everyone wrong forever, but finally getting to live a life that doesn’t revolve around proving anything to anyone.

Younger me, we made it. We’re still a work in progress, naturally. But look at us. Still standing. Still growing. Still occasionally petty.

Evolution takes time.