Think about the woman you were ten years ago. What had power over her that no longer has power over you?
Maybe she wanted everyone to like her. Maybe she compared her career, body, relationships, parenting or finances to everyone around her.
She thought saying “no” required a lengthy explanation, believed changing direction meant she had failed. She was waiting until she felt completely ready before trying something new.
Whatever your answers are, give that younger version of yourself some credit. Somewhere along the way, she did some brave things.
Now consider a harder question: What has power over you today that you don’t want to carry with you for another ten years?
Permission to Begin
Julia Child did not grow up dreaming of becoming a famous chef. After working in advertising and government service, she moved to France with her husband in her 30s, discovered a fascination with French food and enrolled at Le Cordon Bleu.
She was a beginner at 37 years old.
Julia spent years collaborating on Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which was published in 1961 when she was 49. Her television career followed in her 50s.
We spend so much of our early lives trying to become competent – earning degrees, developing expertise and building careers. You know, adulting.
Being a beginner can become uncomfortable after we have everything lined up how we wanted it. But what if the next ten years require you to be bad at something first?
Maybe bravery isn’t quitting your job tomorrow and pursuing a hidden passion. Maybe it’s signing up for the class or learning a new skill. You don’t need permission to be a beginner, but sometimes we need to give it to ourselves anyway.
Permission to Change Avenues
Vera Wang’s story offers a different kind of permission. Before becoming synonymous with bridal fashion, Wang built a successful career at Vogue and later worked as a design director for Ralph Lauren.
At 40, Wang changed direction and opened her own bridal boutique in New York, beginning the career for which she would become internationally known.
There’s a particular kind of courage required to change avenues when your current one looks perfectly respectable. Walking away from something that’s clearly terrible is one thing. Questioning something that’s fine is harder.
Maybe you’ve become good at a career that no longer fits who you’ve become. Maybe you’ve spent years pursuing a version of success you’re no longer sure you want. Or maybe you’re wondering whether another path fits better.
Changing direction doesn’t erase everything that came before it. Your experience, judgment, resilience, and confidence come with you. Changing avenues isn’t necessarily starting over, sometimes it’s starting from experience.
What Do You Want to Leave Behind?
Reinvention doesn’t mean becoming Julia Child or Vera Wang. The thing you need to change may never appear on a résumé.
Maybe ten years from now, you want to be free from perfectionism, comparisons to your body at 25, chasing a title you no longer want, or letting go of a relationship or identity that you’ve outgrown.
Or maybe there’s something you’ve wanted to try for years, but you keep telling yourself you’ll do it when life settles down.
The trouble is that while we’re waiting for the perfect time, ten years can quietly pass.
Meet the Woman You’ll Be Ten Years From Now
Picture Her For a Minute.
What no longer worries her? What has she finally tried, walked away from, or stopped trying to prove? Whose approval has she stopped chasing?
What does she wish you had been brave enough to start sooner?
We tend to think of courage as something required in extraordinary moments, but some of the bravest choices of our lives may be much quieter: trying and starting, changing direction, being inexperienced, saying no, letting someone misunderstand you, and choosing differently because you know yourself better now.
You already have evidence that you’re capable of this. Look at the woman you were ten years ago and everything you’ve learned to release since then.
Now look ahead.
What do you want to be free from ten years from now?
And perhaps the more important question: Why does the woman you’ll be ten years from now get to be free from it, but you don’t?
Read more by Alexis here.
