Advice for My Younger Self

What I would say to myself if I could go back in time

I have a friend at work who loves to ask random philosophical questions to get a good conversation going while we slog through the day. Think things along the lines of “If you could be reincarnated as any animal, what would you be?” We often joke that we need to get high together one day to see just how far we can take these D&Ms, but that they probably wouldn’t be very different from our regular chats anyway.

If you have someone like that in your own life, you’ll understand that these people are invaluable.

Last week, this friend asked me if I would have dinner with my younger self, should I be miraculously presented with such an opportunity. I thought about it for a while and said that I would. He asked what I would say and I replied that, firstly, I would laugh, which he found hilarious. I explained that it would be my natural reaction to all of the stresses and worries and anxieties of teenage Dylan, very few of which have followed me into my late twenties.

Then I told my friend that, if I could give one piece of advice to my younger self, it would be to fail as much as possible. Try everything and settle for nothing. Explore and wonder. Don’t just see and hear, touch and taste. I spoke recently of how I abandoned my adolescent dream of pursuing a career as a performer, but still choose to dabble in the hobby every now and then for pure enjoyment. My only regret is that I don’t have enough failures to learn from.

I was at my worst between the ages of 13 and 23, in terms of both character and stability, but it was also the most formative decade of my fledging life. You’re going through enough changes in puberty without the added complications of figuring out who you are and navigating the strange outside world. Yet it’s an experience that we all must have in order to be prepared for what awaits on the other side – there’s no older fear than that of the unknown.

Look how young and naïve I was!

It’s an interesting thought experiment and one that can either leave you languishing in the mire of the past or relishing the abundance of the present. Thankfully, I look back fondly on my turbulent teenage years with the newfound perspective of adulthood. Now, I almost feel like a father figure to the young me, or that one teacher who always gave you more time than anyone else because they saw and actually cared about your potential.

This recent post by Wild Bare Thoughts got me thinking about my own former selves that I’ve shed over the years. Sometimes I forget to forgive them and I have to catch myself speaking of them as one might a bitter ex-lover or an insufferable neighbour. But I’m always improving, striving to be better by learning more about myself. I’ve come to respect the different people I’ve been over the years. Besides, you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

Would I want to be any of them again if I had the chance? Hell, no! But I know that they were necessary evolutions of the boy I was to the man I’ve become, which I can honestly say, for the first time in my life, is someone who I’m very proud of. I accept and love who I had to be to get here because we are more than our mistakes and missteps. I’ve hurt people and sabotaged myself more times than I can count, but it’s what you do next that matters most.

Perhaps this contentment is also partly influenced by my recent dive into old poetry of mine. Much of it was written between 2020 and 2023, when I was coming out of a three-year relationship and struggling with the enforced lifestyle of a global pandemic that prevented me from doing what I loved. It’s very cynical and quite dark at times, but I can read it years later and smile at the melodramatic nature of it from beyond the bubble I was trapped in.

I’m reminded of the Sigmund Freud quote, “if youth knew, if age could”. The thing is, I wouldn’t change anything that I’ve done if I could go back in time, because I had to learn from those experiences the hard way to remember the lessons. This is what I mean when I say that I would advise my younger self to fail as much as possible. As parents know, you can tell your children to do or not do this and that, but they only learn by making the mistakes themselves.

The fact remains: we simply know better as we get older, or at least we should. You live long enough to see the signs, recognise patterns and adapt to the aftermath. We are each on a chaotic collision course with the lives of others that we gracelessly enter and exit as we attempt to navigate our own. Nobody leaves unscathed, but there’s a story behind every scar which carries a hidden beauty. The best that we can do is wear them proudly and press on.

Ironically, wisdom only comes with age and life is a game of trial and error. Anyone can change, it just takes time. The more experienced and emotionally mature we become, the more informed our decisions are. You begin to understand what’s worth holding onto and what you should let go. The world doesn’t scare you as much and people seem a little more like you. And, hopefully, you can love who you’ve repeatedly sacrificed yourself for without even realising it: you.

My eyes are worse and my hair’s disappearing, but I’m still in there!

I’m no longer terrified of the future but curious about it. I imagine the endless possibilities within my reach and delight in the uncertainty instead of letting it crush me. It’s funny how we tend to grow into the person we swore that we would never be as a kid. Who knew that I would end up drinking coffee with the birds as the sun comes up then going to bed with a book after cooking dinner every day and consider it living my life to the fullest?

If I could have dinner with my younger self, he would probably laugh at me too.