Which of your past selves do you need right now?

why linear isn't always best

We’re often encouraged to look forward, to keep moving ahead, to “leave the past behind” as we carve out new paths. It’s all about growth, progress, the next step, the next big thing.

In a world that pushes us to always advance in a linear, upward trajectory, it’s easy to forget the power that lies in a glance backwards—to our past selves.

We’ve all had different versions of ourselves – some of mine include: the little girl who saw magic everywhere, the theatre producer who made things happen, the one who finally broke out of a stale relationship, the avid traveller who slept in train corridors, and the fearless one who wrote and performed a one woman show about grief.

What if, instead of just pushing forward, we could reach back to one of those versions of ourselves—the one that might have a quality or strength we need right now?

I had a moment like this recently. I was asked to give a ten-minute presentation at a job interview. I knew both people on the panel, and I felt an old squeeze of self-doubt – what if after inviting me to apply, I left them feeling underwhelmed?

Even though I’m experienced and qualified, I wobbled. Procrastination set in and I put off preparing my slides. Then, in the midst of the turbulence, I remembered a moment where I had faced something far more excruciating than this.

During the pandemic, I’d lost my face-to-face teaching work and needed to work online. A job interview came up via a friend - one that had nothing to do with writing or creating—but everything to do with surviving a toe-curling demo lesson.

I had to pretend that an adult interviewer was a two-year-old child. But… I also had to give a 30-minute lesson solely focused on the letter B and its sound. Not words as in “big” or “book”—no, it had to be a deep, intense exploration of the sound “buh,” like I was leading a toddler in a circle, clapping, singing, and making the letter come alive.

The interviewer had obviously seen a lot of people that day. Her portrayal of a happy two-year old involved the odd clap and a half-hearted “buh.” I really needed the job; I gave it everything – think children’s TV presenter on crack.

I survived and got through it. The job was mine and I had the pleasure of repeating that lesson for six-months, but with real two-year olds at least. An experience I hope to never repeat on either count.

But, that past version of me—facing the challenge with the “to hell with it,” unshakable, cheerful determination to just get through it—was the exact person I needed in that interview room a few weeks ago.

The moment I remembered that odd, difficult hour of my life, I found myself smiling. The sense of ridiculous confidence I had then, the way I was forced to embrace absurdity and go all in even when it felt utterly out of my comfort zone, was the energy I needed to bring into this new moment. Nothing could be that bad, and it wasn’t.

This time I was in my lane, talking about writing and teaching at university level. All was well, but the perspective of the cringe memory, of not being too precious about things and just going for it, actually helped me give an excellent presentation. I was so relaxed and so myself, the panel commented on how much they’d enjoyed the experience.

Past - Present - Future: what if it’s a circle not a line?

We’re often taught that the key to growth is simply moving forward and shedding old skins. But sometimes, the most powerful way to move forward is to call on the past versions of ourselves who’ve already walked through something challenging.

So, what if instead of always focusing on where you’re headed, you thought about where you’ve been? Which past version of you could you reach out to? What’s the quality that you need now, that one of your previous selves had in spades?

Maybe it’s the quiet patience of a younger you who had time to sit and listen to your thoughts without rushing. Or the ambitious drive of the you who didn’t yet know all the reasons why you could fail but believed in something anyway. Maybe it’s the self-compassion of the you who took time to nurture and recharge, recognising that rest was just as important as work.

That younger you might have the very wisdom and energy you need to face what’s in front of you now. The person you were then is still you—you don’t need to leave them behind.

Why not think of them as a coach who knows you better than anyone else? One of the best things a coach can do is remind you of your strengths. They ask questions like, “Remember when you managed to do that thing you thought was impossible? How did you get through that?”

What’s the past version of yourself that knows how to handle what you’re dealing with right now? The you who survived that difficult situation and lived to tell the tale, the you who found a solution even when it felt like none existed, the you who was once stronger or more adaptable or braver than you thought possible? And how can you call on them for guidance, strength, or even just a bit of ridiculous confidence?

Embrace that version of you. They’ve got your back.

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Things to shout about:

Andrew Wille

has a lovely voice exercise here for writers, based on “I remember” or “Remember” exercises. A nice lead in if you’re thinking about past selves.

If you’re passionate about nature and creativity, there are some great examples here from ReWilding Europe of ways that collaborations with writers, artists and theatre-makers have helped raise awareness of their work.

I recently took a course with Writing Room UK and can’t recommend them highly enough. Their workshops are welcoming, live on Zoom and very fairly priced, with great teachers - worth a look if the dirge of over-priced video courses gets you down (it does me).

Finally, friend and writer

Susannah Rigg

is hosting warm and cosy Sunday “Tea and Tales” salons - a balm for our times - details here.

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Thank you for being part of The Whole Writer. I’d love to hear what resonated for you if you feel like sharing in the comments 😊

Until next time.

Carys x

P.S You can find out more about me, my writing and my coaching practice here: www.carysshannon.com