Hello you
Sitting in a Notting Hill cafe not too long ago, I wondered how different my life would be if I’d gone. To London that is. If I’d followed my teenage dreams. We’re all different people during this time in our lives, with so much to learn and overcome. Remember your teenage self? I was incredibly ambitious. I wanted to be an investment banker - can you believe that? Me, an investment banker?! I wanted to work in the city of London and very clearly envisaged a townhouse in Chelsea with a pink door and a black Porsche 911 parked outside registered in my name.
No husband, no children. This was the foundational vision of my future. Then I fell in love.
After university my friends moved to London and I stayed in the same city we’d studied in. The same city I’d grown up in. We’re still friends now and I visit them often. They’re all married with mortgages and babies. An evolved stage of life to the one we would’ve experienced together. They’d lived that. They moved when I didn’t.
Yet there I was, age 38 feeling a bit lost and pathetic as you do when you’re not sure what you’re doing in life - contemplating if I would’ve found myself, the version that did move, in that exact same cafe. Are our lives destined to intertwine no matter what? Would she have realised investment banking only consumed her soul the way so many people my age have told me. It’s usually around 35 when they can’t take it anymore and move to Bali or start their own business. Maybe both.
The trick then, is not to miss the opportunities we’re given while they’re right in front of us and even though we might feel terrified, go for it. We can soothe our old regrets by not accumulating any more.
My wondering persisted. What if we were sat opposite one another or side by side? Would we recognise one another? What would her hair be like? Her face? Would she be with her husband? Boyfriend? Children?
I came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter, there was no way of knowing - but what I did know was my opportunity to move to London had passed. I still believe it would have been wonderful, and it’s parked in the bank of novels I might write about the lives I could’ve lived, but it’s not the place for me now. Too busy. Too loud. Too expensive. I’d never catch up. Sometimes, very often we’re only served opportunities once in our lives and when they’re gone they’re gone. The version we would have been disappears too.
Every now and then I meet a woman who reflects my regret. The one who took her opportunity. At a substack party, in a writing workshop or as an editor of my work. I’ll listen or read about her move to London and I’ll ache a little inside. The particular context of her story will intrigue me and I’ll want to know more. It’s never the external having that I crave, it’s her inner world I notice. Her confidence, embodiment and unconscious mannerisms she exhibits as a result of her choices. The ones she’s unaware of because they come so naturally but stand out to me. We all show these. We’re all made up of choices. The consequences flow through us. There’s no jealousy, just intimidation. And then shame. It can take a while before I pick myself up again.
There can be grief here, and it’s been torturous at times. We can make more of just about anything in this world, except time. What’s passed is passed and there’s no going back. To sit with this reality of being alive requires gentle acceptance else we become restless.Frozen in what could have been. A dream state of the untouchable. But I’ve had to make my peace. I did this by trusting we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be and everything happens for a reason, that our soul lesson is the same in this lifetime no matter how we choose to learn it. This way I sleep at night and feel comforted.
In my last letter I shared how I’ve been doing parts work with my teenage self. Listening. Loving. Nurturing. It turns out she has a lot of educational desires. One night amidst some late pondering, we pinned our fork in the road down to one decision in particular. To take English Language at A level instead of English literature. All because I / she didn’t feel she could handle the reading? Me, who reads 30-40 books a year, sometimes more. When I checked how many books were required I was shocked to read, just 8. She also wishes she’d taken art and French. But her internal world, we decided was what couldn’t hold. Safety and practicality was favoured over her heart’s true desires. She didn’t believe that path was for people like her or that she deserved it, let alone could handle it.
Luckily our inner worlds can strengthen. And when the foundation is strong we can reach. I stopped looking backwards, opened my eyes and realised have the opportunity to make amends. Tentatively at first, I decided to pursue my education in literature. For the love of words and what I want to spend the rest of my life doing. Writing. Embarassment and second guessing soon turned into excitement. Then the ideas began to flow.
It feels like my second wedding to creativity, the first I had around the time I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic. That was when I vowed to live a bohemian sort of creative life forever and I’d never put too much pressure on my creativity to pay the bills. The result was a business that supports me. Now, I feel the need to deepen my commitment and satisfy my thirst for understanding. With a little help from AI I crafted what’s called ‘the unlived education’. A personalised syllabus to fill the gaps past decisions created. Art classes, a sketchbook practice. French school when I return to Paris.
I’m going to give the version of me standing in front of the sliding door everything now that she didn’t have then, but deserved. We’re not choosing the safety option anymore, the survival option. We’re choosing the beautiful thing. And we’re making it a life. I’m curious to see where this takes me. Us. French feels like the first language. Italian after that, in Florence maybe. And then Japanese. Greek. A level English could turn into a degree. One step at a time, as long as that step feels aligned.
It’s been a gift to realise it’s never too late for us. I understand being child free has an impact here. My mum rightly said the other day, ‘most people relive their youth through their children Jessica, you can do it with yourself.’ And I felt blessed. A little selfish but then I remembered the reason I create, and that’s not selfish at all. It’s to serve. To explore the intersection of beauty and truth, open windows that let the air in, encourage breath, start a conversation and secretly I always hope - action.
French class starts in September. A level English literature starts next week. And do you know what happened when I booked both these things? That recently frustrated protesting teenager buried within, calmed. She was satisfied. There wasn’t any moving onto the next thing or rumination. That’s how I know it’s right.
Until recently I thought the sliding doors moment was the end of that story. The door closed and that version of me stayed on the other side of it. Through the expansion of self-knowledge, installation of self-love and a mindset of abundance… there’s been a shift. Some doors, not all of them but some, open again if you’re willing to walk through them differently. Maybe they closed because you weren’t ready. You were never meant to walk through them as yourself now, and when you are ready - you’ll know. You might feel scared. But you’ll know. I’m no longer the teenager who chose safety out of fear, I’m the woman who finally gave herself the beautiful gift of courage to want what she wants.
Do you have a what if moment from your life? Which path did you choose? Do you ever think of the alternate you who chose differently? I’d love to hear.
Lots of love
Jessica xxx
Beautiful story, Jessica, and one that resonates with me. I did get married young, had two children one year apart, and divorced when they were 6 and 18 months. Since then, it's been MY life, the way I want it. Not always easy, but always exciting. I talk about my born-again single life in my post tomorrow. I think you might see yourself in some of it. Blue💙
'Sometimes, very often we’re only served opportunities once in our lives and when they’re gone they’re gone. The version we would have been disappears too.' So well put, I've so often felt this - both in my life and in my friends' too. In the early 2010s I received funding for an arts PhD, but I didn't have the self-belief to push myself all the way towards an academic career. At the same time, I wanted to explore other options like freelance writing and living abroad. My decision to leave academia after finishing the PhD was born out of fear and curiosity all at once -a real mix of good and bad! But I've learned to watch out for fear-based self-sabotage disguise as the desire to take a trip!