30 Days Of Radical Honesty Journalling Challenge Day 7: What Would I Tell My Younger Self If I Could Whisper Into Her Ear At Her Lowest Moment?

I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could crawl through time, kneel down beside you in the quiet and the pain, and brush the hair from your face with a tenderness almost no one ever gave you. I wish I could look into your teary eyes and whisper, how you feel right now is not forever.

Everything they said to you—all the ways they tried to shrink you, silence you, carve away at your light with their jealousy and fear—it doesn’t last. I know it feels like it will. I know it feels like you’re trapped inside a story written by people who never bothered to know your heart. But you don’t stay there.

You grow. You rise. And you become someone extraordinary.

You grow up to be clever and accomplished, radiant and thriving. You find love—not just any love, but the kind you never dared believe was real. He is tender and brilliant, and yes, he is smoking hot with an Australian accent that will still make you swoon thirteen years in. You outdo yourself with this one.

You find a family—one born not of blood, but of love and intention. They see you, the real you, and they wrap you in a kind of acceptance that heals parts of you you didn’t know were still aching.

You build businesses. You build brands. You build safe spaces and beautiful things and words that crack people open and make them feel seen. You do work that matters. You change lives. Including your own.

It takes you a long time to silence those early voices. To stop flinching from the memories, the manipulation, the moments where you thought you were the problem. But you get there. And oddly enough, it’s another act of violence that becomes your undoing and your awakening. Don’t fear that moment. It will change everything. It will set you free.

And those people—the ones who clawed at you, who gnawed on your joy like it was theirs to consume, who tried to drag you back into the pit every time you found the light—they don’t matter. Not now. Not ever.

They chomp and gnash their rotting teeth from the shadows as you rise. They scream and flail and hurl their words like weapons, but you? You soar. You laugh. You live. You write.

And oh, how you write.

It just gets better from here. Every word, every sentence, every truth you claim—sharp, soft, funny, real—it all finds its place. You become a writer so honest and raw and brilliant that people stop to breathe you in. It seems impossible, even now, but I am looking at the numbers, and I am telling you, it’s true.

But more than anything, here’s what I need you to know:

The only person you ever needed to impress was you. And you become someone you are so proud of. Not just for what you accomplish, but for who you are. For how you kept going. For how you turned your pain into art, your fear into fire, your silence into song.

You make it, baby girl. And you are magnificent.

Peace, Love, and Inspiration,
~Britt Wolfe💚