If I could sit down today with my younger self from twenty-odd years ago, I would remain silent at first. I wouldn’t immediately start giving advice, because I know I probably wouldn’t have even heard it back then. I was too young, too stubborn, and too convinced that life is conquered through strength, hard work, and honest intentions.
I’d look at that man who still believes people will remember the good he has done, that his efforts will be recognized, that sincerity will be repaid with sincerity, and that every sacrifice will one day make sense. I’d also know how hard it would be for him when those expectations aren’t met.
I’d tell him that it won’t be the work itself that wears him down the most. It will be the people. Not all of them, but enough that one day he’ll start to see things differently. He’ll be worn down by those to whom he gives more than he had to, and who later act as if he’d given them less than they deserved. He will be worn down by people he helps get back on their feet, who will try to trample him as soon as they feel they can manage without him.
That will hurt, not because you’re weak, but because you’re human.
I’d tell him not to waste his youth trying to prove himself to everyone. The most precious part of life isn’t always spent on wrong decisions, but on the wrong people. It’s spent explaining things to those who didn’t want to understand. It’s spent waiting for someone to show a character they never had.
I would tell him to protect his health before his body forces him to stop. Don’t believe the line “I’ll just get through this one more time,” because that “one more time” never comes just once. There’s always another deadline, another problem, another debt, another crisis, another person’s need, another day when you put yourself off until later.
I’d tell him to guard his family against the ambition that always justifies itself by saying it’s for their sake. You can work for the people you love and still give them only a weary version of yourself year after year. You can build security but lose your presence. You can secure many things but miss what never comes back.
I’d also like to tell him that caution doesn’t have to mean giving up your humanity. Be cautious, yes. Be quiet, yes. Be wise, certainly. But don’t be cold.
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