A while ago, a blogger interviewed me for a story about women and their pathways to success. The interviewer asked some standard human interest questions about what motivates me, the challenges I faced, and how I conquered them.
To wrap up, she asked, “If you could go back in time, what advice would you give the 10-year-old version of you?”
“If somehow I had the chance to travel back and meet my 10-year-old self,” I responded, “I wouldn’t waste time dishing out advice to her. Instead, I would stay dead quiet and listen to everything she had to say.”
I recommend you do the same. Your 10-year-old self has been watching all this time, and she has some feedback you really need to hear.
An accountability buddy like no other
This week, I made more progress on the next complete book draft of Dare To Be Your Boldest. I’ve focused on tightening the premise, brainstorming the scenes and chapters that will carry the story, and grouping them around the various plot points. I have an abundance of scenes and very few plot points, so I will have to go through a brutal rationalisation at some stage.
One scene will remain untouched because it is pivotal to everything that followed. Those few minutes have determined the course of my life ever since.
It was a steaming hot Sydney day in 2008. The pounding behind my temples tells me it’s most likely Sunday. Back then, it was standard play for me to work through multiple bottles of wine from Friday 5 PM. I consumed wine to ease the pain inside of me, to relax the tension in my shoulders and stomach. By Sunday, the wine offered up its own pain.
That Sunday afternoon, the lounge beckoned. I had a ton of stuff to do, mainly housework, and I’d usually get it all done before relaxing. Guilt is a brutal taskmaster, but this Sunday, I rebelled.
I don’t remember if I fell into a deep sleep or dreamed half awake, but the images that came into my mind are still clear.
In the 1970s, my family had a farm in the Mount Royal ranges. It was steep, heavy-timbered, unforgiving country where seeing other humans was rare.
I explore those mountains from a young age. First on foot, then I progressed to push bikes, horses, and motorbikes. The vast, rugged landscape became my playground, where my imagination could run wild, and I could pursue any adventure I dared to dream up. My sense of self-reliance developed early.
As I lay on the lounge on that sweaty Sunday afternoon, scenes from my favourite adventures at Mount Royal flashed through my mind, one after another. I remembered hunting brumbies on my horse, camping, practising survival techniques, and running the mountains with my dog. It was like a camera roll sent to me by a ghost of my past to remind me of what I used to be.
More potent than looking in the mirror
I’m big on personal accountability and self-awareness. I’ve tried all the different techniques, such as standing in front of a mirror or writing in a journal. But I have never experienced anything as powerful as being held to account by my 10-year-old self.
She wasn’t happy when she saw me on the lounge that day.
She reminded me of the energy I once had and the dreams I dared to dream. She urged me to push beyond my current limits and rediscover my spark. She challenged me to think bigger, be bolder, and never settle for less than what I could achieve.
What she showed me that day propelled me to act. I got off the lounge, walked down the hall, and began digging in the back of my wardrobe. Buried back there was a box that I had intended to open for months but never found the time. I pulled out the contents—a pair of Brooks running shoes—put them on my feet and headed out the door. Those first steps became a decade of ultra-marathon running.
I’ve used her as my accountability buddy ever since. Whenever I face a deeply challenging moment, I summon the memory of my 10-year-old self and draw upon her wisdom to navigate my way through.
