Hey T.
If I could sit beside you for just a moment. You with your stubborn determination, your tired joints, and your quiet questions about the future. I’d tell you something simple: breathe. You don’t have to have everything figured out yet. You don’t even have to pretend you’re fine. You’re learning things early that most people won’t understand until much later, and that’s not a burden. It’s shaping you in ways you can’t see yet.
And yes, just so you know, you’re still going to laugh at your own jokes when you’re older. Someone has to.
You’re going to roll your eyes at me, which is fair, because you’re excellent at that. But here’s the truth: you’re doing better than you think.
I know it feels like everyone else got the instruction manual for “how to be a normal kid,” and you’re still flipping through the table of contents. But trust me, you’re not behind. You’re just learning a different curriculum. One that requires patience, grit, and a sense of humour you don’t even know you have yet.
You won’t believe this now, but one day you’ll look back and realize you were building strength in the most unglamorous ways. Those waiting rooms, early mornings, adaptations, reinventions and the quiet moments where you kept going even when you didn’t want to? That’s what we call prep work.
And all that quiet strength you’re building? It’s leading somewhere you can’t imagine yet.
Your life is going to be bigger than the small world you’re living in right now.
One day, you’ll travel across Canada, wander through cities in the US, explore Europe, soak up the sun in Mexico, and even find yourself in the West Indies wondering how on earth you got so lucky. You’ll build a career that fits you. Yes, you. The kid who feels like she’s always catching up. You’ll find your niche as a Project Manager, where your attention to detail and quiet persistence become superpowers.
You’ll sing lead in a band (I know, wild), play a role in charitable organizations, and meet people who change your life in the best ways. You’ll be Mom to a fabulous daughter who fills your world with more joy than you thought possible. And you’ll be surrounded by friends and family who show up for you again and again. A support network that stays steady through every chapter.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not suggesting that it will be all smooth sailing. There will be challenges. But you’ll meet them with the strength you’re already learning.
Your condition won’t stop you from living an ordinary life. In fact, because of everything you’re learning now; the strength, the stubbornness, and the quiet determination. You will end up living an extraordinary life.
Also, please stop worrying about looking awkward. You are awkward. But in a charming way. Mostly. And the people who matter will love you for exactly that.
So here’s what I want you to hold onto: nothing about your life will be small. Not your joy, not your resilience, not your adventures, not your love. You’re going to build a life that is full and rich and beautifully yours. Not in spite of what you’re carrying but shaped by the strength you’re learning from it.
And when you look back, you’ll realize you weren’t fragile.
You were just growing in a different direction.
Author’s Note:
After finishing a heavier series, this piece is a gentle pause. A moment to look back with humour, kindness, and a little disbelief at how far life has taken me. A reminder that even in the hardest seasons, there are futures waiting for us that we can’t yet see. This note to my younger self is a small celebration of the unexpected, ordinary, extraordinary life that unfolded anyway.
If you’d like to revisit those early chapters, you can explore my Early Years series, where all three posts are gathered in one place.
`