Devastation Over Coffee
Reflections on what my younger self would actually think of me by Meg Ohms
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Sometimes, meeting our younger selves—at least in imagination—means facing not just nostalgia, but the ache of unmet expectations. Inspired by the gentle, hope-filled trend of “coffee with your younger self,” this piece by offers a different kind of reunion: one where honesty outweighs sentimentality, and compassion for the person Meg’s become is the real victory.
Devastation Over Coffee
Reflections on what my younger self would actually think of me.
by
I've been seeing all these super sweet videos where the text is about meeting your younger self for a cup of coffee (Jennae Cecilia is the author of the beautiful original poem) -- they say things like "she was 5 minutes late, I was 5 minutes early" or "she ordered a mocha, I ordered a cup of herbal tea" and then sometimes they say something sweet that alludes to this beautiful idea that your younger self would be so amazed at your life or maybe happy with the ways you had changed. There is a beautiful sentiment in queer people reflecting on the joy they have found in relationship or identity (Hayley Kiyoko).
I was thinking about what mine would say and I realized that my younger self would be absolutely devastated to see my life. She wouldn't look at me with awe, but perhaps sincere disappointment or disbelief, or horror. She wanted a husband to validate her worth; I'm gay and single. She wanted a traditionally respectable, do good-er job that pays well; I work for a few bucks above minimum wage at a grocery store and deeply enjoy it. She thinks people will tell her she is crazy if she tells them how she feels; I had to publicly leave my teaching contract in the middle of the school year and take ten months off work because I was too depressed to function, then I did 71 days of outpatient psychiatric treatment and sent selfies from it to my friends. She wanted her own two bedroom apartment in the city or a farmhouse in the country; I live with my brother in the suburbs. She wanted to be thin more than anything; my body fluctuates by a lot and I buy new pants instead of trying to lose weight, and I'm actually pretty kind to myself about it.
She would be so shocked and disappointed. We wouldn't have a moment of camaraderie as I showed her all that we became. She would be devastated and she would see me as a failure. And, according to her standards, she would be right. But what she didn't know was that the life she had pictured was formed by conformity, perfectionism, and a deep desire to be liked and respected by an obscure audience. She wouldn't yet be ready to understand that the relief I feel in having shed the layers that were not meant for me is worth more than the success she wanted ever could have been. She doesn't yet know how painful it would be to try to maintain a shape other than your true one. She wouldn't be able to understand what I mean when I say that we live in our body now. Or that we feel the ground beneath us and the cosmic current of connection that thrums through us all. She wouldn't be able to comprehend that feeling good and calm could be preferred to looking good and put together. She wanted more than anything to be seen as put together, but I am still late to everything. She wouldn't understand yet that you don't get to choose your values, and you don't get to choose your needs. She doesn't yet believe that ignoring the truth doesn't make it change. She doesn't know yet that bravery is one of our favorite feelings and, yes, it feels an awful lot like fear.
Don't get me wrong, there are things she'd be happy to hear. She would love to know that we spend cozy mornings reading books by the fire. She would love to know that we have an adorable dog of our own who comes when we call. She would be over the moon that we live eight minutes from Ruthie. She would love hearing stories from the ski resort, and from the lake town, about the mopeds in Nicaragua and the butcher shop in France and about watching the moon rise while floating on our back in the salty Caribbean sea. She would be so happy to know we were Monica's Maid of Honor. She wouldn't be able to wait to meet Rachel. She would be so happy about all of that, and she still would struggle to understand the ways in which I hadn't met her expectations.
The thing is -- I don't want to judge my life from the limited perspective of what my younger self thought she wanted. I want to live my life from the embodied awareness of the authenticity I have found in the humbling crumble of my reality. It is in the rubble that I have found my truth. I don't want to concern myself with what my life might look like, or could have looked like or did look like or should have looked like, I just want to live it in a way that feels bearable, and maybe even good. I love my younger self for all her idealism and naivete and optimism. For her belief that we were meant for something. For her energy and her creativity (even if in the form of anxiety) and her commitment to the image she thought would bring happiness. It's those same things that led us to a life we are genuinely content to live in, we just had to say goodbye to a lot of things along the way.
If I met my younger self for coffee, she might be devastated. But I'm not. And I'm so excited for her future, with all its twists and turns, and ultimately the embrace of truth. I'd tell her it isn't going to be easy, but that in the pain she will find her resilience. That in the confusion, she will find her people. That only off the path of pressure and conformity will she meet her Self. And I'll be right here the whole time, cheering her on and ready to offer a hug or a listening ear.
Author Bio: Meg Ohms (she/her) is a sensitive and strong queer woman who lives in the Pacific Northwest with her rescue pup, Penny. Writing feels like an extension of her heart and has been her main tool for processing her life and keeping herself afloat over the years. Thematically, her writing focuses on self-reflection, authentic living, and nuanced relationships. She loves to read, write, beachcomb, walk, and dabble in various outdoor activities.
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Meg, thank you so much for this poignant take on "Coffee with my younger self" - I think it probably rings true with a lot of us. Personally, with so few depictions of gay people when I was coming up and out (80s) I never would have imagined my life today. Cheers to you ❤️🍊💛💚💙💜🩷🩵🤎🖤🩶
Such an important offering Meg. Thank you. 🙏“It is in the rubble that I have found my truth.”