A century of life.

Dear Me at 100,

I wonder where you are right now. Sitting somewhere peaceful, surrounded by the land you built your life upon? Watching the sunrise with a deep knowing that you lived exactly as you were meant to?

I hope you feel proud. Not just of what you did, but of who you became. Of the battles you fought, the illusions you shattered, and the freedom you carved out of a world that tried to keep you small.

I remember the girl who could feel the energy in a room like a knife’s edge, always anticipating the next storm. The child who learned to escape into books because the real world was too unpredictable, too loud. You spent so many years walking on eggshells, believing you had to shrink yourself just to survive. But you didn’t stay small, did you?

You grew. You questioned. You saw through the illusion.

For years, they told you ADHD was a disorder, that you needed to focus, to fit in, to be less. But what they never realised was that your mind wasn’t broken—it was free. And when the world tried to confine you to a system that was never meant for you, you chose another path. You refused to live a life dictated by rules that made no sense.

You followed the call of the wild.

I hope at 100, you are still connected to the land—the smell of the earth after rain, the rhythm of the seasons, the warmth of the sun that you always knew was life-giving. I hope you are still surrounded by love, by people who understand what it means to truly be free. That you built your homestead, lived simply, and proved that real wealth is measured in moments, not money.

You made it. Through the chaos, the struggles, the doubts. You walked the path so many were too afraid to take, and now, as you look back on a century of life, I hope you smile knowing it was all worth it.

Did we do it right? Did we build the life we dreamed of? If not, tell me where to turn now—I’ll listen.

With love,
Your Younger Self