
One of the tasks this week has been blowing my mind.
Week 4 is all about “recovering a sense of integrity”. One of the tasks is to imagine myself at 80. What am I like then? What did I do after 50 that I enjoyed? What would I tell myself today? What interests would I urge myself to pursue? What dreams would I encourage myself to follow?
At the beginning of the week — on Monday — when I read this task, I was excited! By Wednesday, I had a powerful urge to start writing some more of my truths: some of the stories I’ve been afraid to tell.
In one of those wonderful moments of flow, I sat down and wrote about an experience I had with an older Christian woman a few years ago. It was guided by a piece of advice I kept hearing from my 80-year-old self over and over again. All I could hear her telling me for those first few days was: “Fuck fear.”
I wrote about how a conversation with the older Christian woman has been fueling the “inner Christian critic” voice in my head. I wrote about the entire conversation, how it made me feel judged, and how I need to forgive the woman so I can finally silence the inner Christian critic.
It was such a beautiful experience for me to write that. I was taking all the wisdom I could channel from 80-year-old me — her advice to be fearless and write the story, and her insistence on operating in grace and love — and use it to break through a block. Now I know who to really listen to next time I’m afraid to write one of my truths.
The story is currently locked (for members) but if you so desire, you can check it out here:
That was Wednesday. The story “Fighting the Inner Christian Critic” was published at The Ascent on Thursday. However, I still needed to write the letter. I made some notes throughout the week, with things I thought 80-year-old me might say to today me:
“Let it go. All of that stuff from the past. All the ‘mistakes’ you made, all the decisions you regret making.”
“Remember love, it was a miracle you were even born. You have come so far. I’m proud of you.”
“Let go. Next time you’re walking down the street with music playing in your ears and you suddenly get the urge to start dancing but you’re afraid people will look at you funny: do the damn dance. You might save someone’s life. You never know.”
Etcetera.
Yesterday, I sat down to write the letter by hand. I was sitting on the ground, in my creativity space, on a green, blue and white, flowery straw mat. I was facing a mirror.
I wrote a line. Stopped and thought. Wrote another line. Stopped and thought and looked in the mirror. A rush of self-doubt came over me.
80-year-old me wasn’t having it.
“There is an endless well of beauty inside you.” she said. “When you look in the mirror, smile and say, ‘My God, you are beautiful.’ You are. You are a living, breathing work of art.”
I had to put the journal and pen down. I got pretty emotional at that point.
Women, how difficult is it for you to look at yourself in the mirror, smile, and tell yourself you’re beautiful?
I stood up as I cried and got closer to the mirror. I sat down and looked at myself. I thought about what I might look like at 80. I moved my head a little to the left and a little to the right as I looked at my dewy eyes and cheeks.
80-year-old-me told me how beautiful the lines around my eyes were. Faint, lovely sunbeams that tell a thousand stories of beauty and pain.
After a few minutes, I smiled and said, “My God, you are beautiful.”
Thank you for following the journey! It’s getting more and more interesting each week. Next week I’ll be working on “Recovering a Sense of Possibility”. Here are my posts from the first three weeks, plus the introduction if you want to check them out:

