I Met My Younger Self for Coffee: A Trauma Therapist’s Personal Reflection On Healing, Self-Worth, and Trusting the Journey to Healthy Love
By Leah Aguirre Barnes, LCSW
A Long and Winding Path to Love
I got married last month—to my life partner. Someone who truly accepts and celebrates all parts of me. Someone I can laugh with, cry with, and do hard things with. Someone I feel safe with and can depend on. Someone who is, first and foremost, my friend.
And wow, was it a journey getting to the altar (which, in our case, was a tree in my partner’s childhood backyard, sweetly decorated with twinkle lights and photos of our loved ones).
Before I met my partner, I spent over a decade relentlessly dating and searching for connection. Sometimes it was fun and exciting—but more often than not, it was disheartening, leaving me feeling deeply discouraged, insecure, and exhausted from trying to be “enough.”
As I reflect now on those darker times—when I doubted myself, criticized myself, and cried myself to sleep—I hold so much love and empathy for that younger, 20-something version of me.
There’s so much I wish I could tell her. So many things I wish she knew about timing, healing, self-worth, and what healthy love looks and feels like.
A Conversation Across Time
A few months ago, Jennae Cecelia’s poem inspired a viral trend where people shared imagined conversations with their younger selves. I loved this trend and appreciated the vulnerability so many brought in naming their past traumas, insecurities, and struggles.
As a trauma therapist, I often guide clients through similar reflections—helping them connect with their inner child, revisit younger versions of themselves with compassion, and begin to heal from the attachment wounds those versions still carry.
While I had thought about jumping in at the time, I wanted to give myself space to sit with what I’d really want to say. So, here I go—months later, sharing in long form.
A Healing Conversation with My Younger Self Over Coffee and Sunlight
We sit across from one another at a worn-down, wooden table outside. It’s a cooler day, and she chooses the table without shade. She likes the warmth of the sun—as do I.
She’s sipping her black coffee. I’m sipping my vanilla latte (with full fat milk) because it tastes better to me and who gives a f*ck about the additional calories.
She’s in workout gear with a full face of makeup. I’m also in workout clothes, but my face is fresh—just a layer of sunscreen.
She seems anxious and distracted—her eyes regularly breaking contact with mine, scanning the scene around us.
I have some nerves too about this much-anticipated conversation, but mostly I’m filled with compassion and peace as I observe this version of me—this younger self still navigating the pain of deep-seated insecurities, low self-esteem, and unhealed attachment wounds.
She Asks, I Answer
I ask her about graduate school and the career she had been so eager and passionate about.
“It’s fine,” she replies, and shares a bit about what she’s learning, her internship, and her friends.
She’s indulging me—making small talk—but it’s clear her mind is on something else.
Then, through tears, she asks: “Do we ever meet our person?”
“Yes,” I say, gently. “We do—but it’s going to take some time.”
“We do??” she asks. First excited, then panicked. “Wait, how long do we have to wait?”
I can tell this news is upsetting to her.
“Well…” I reach for her hand and offer a soft smile. “Things are going to take a bit longer than planned.”
“So, what do I do in the meantime??” she asks. She looks tired. Defeated.
What to Do While You Wait
“Try to focus on the meaningful friendships and relationships already in your life,” I say. “And be open to new ones. Don’t take them for granted—these relationships matter. You have some really good people in your life!”
She nods, wiping her eyes.
“Try to accept, love, and care for your body. It’s beautiful. It’s strong.” “We ran that half marathon, by the way,” I add, trying to spark some hope.
She smiles.
“Try to heal from the past. I know you may think you are over some of the things that have happened to you---but you’re not. And that’s okay. Give yourself the opportunity to work through and process some of these things. You don’t have to carry the weight of your past everywhere you go.”
“Okay,” she replies. Doubt lingers in her expression, but she nods again.
“Try to stop comparing yourself to others and their timelines. Everyone is going to do things on their own time. I promise you that timing is everything and that things will happen as they should. It’s important to focus on the present and to pursue and do the things you have always talked about doing . Don’t deprive yourself of joy or happiness or wait for a partner to do these things.”
Her shoulders begin to relax.
Reclaiming Worth, Rewriting the Script
“Try to stop focusing on being liked—especially by men. Your worth is inherent. You are enough, regardless of your relationship status. If it doesn’t work out with someone, or if a guy isn’t interested—it’s not a reflection of your value. You are a f*cking catch. You’re kind, smart, funny, and beautiful—inside and out. Remind yourself of that when you start to doubt yourself or feel discouraged.”
She laughs and nods.
“And please—stay true to who you are. Don’t shrink or change or water yourself down to be liked or loved or accepted. There will be people who don’t understand you, who are intimidated by your light, who make you question your value. Let them go. The right person won’t make you doubt yourself—they will build you up and love you unconditionally.”
Before we part ways, I give her the biggest hug. I hope the words I’ve shared offer her a sliver of peace—a reminder that healing is possible, and she’s never truly alone.
Coming Home to Love
If you’re in the midst of your own waiting season, navigating heartbreak, or trying to untangle relationship patterns that no longer serve you—know that you’re not alone. Healing takes time and healthy love awaits you.
And you are worthy of it all.
