What I Wish I Had Known 20 Years Ago

Last week, I had the opportunity to speak to a room full of women at the Hoover Area Chamber Women’s Business & Leadership Council. My topic was “What I Wish I Had Known 20 Years Ago.”

When I first started thinking about what I wanted to share, I could have talked about leadership. I could have talked about building a career, navigating challenges, finding your voice or becoming more confident. I have certainly learned lessons in all of those areas. But when I really thought about the woman I was 20 years ago and what I would want to tell her today, my answer had very little to do with her career.

I would tell her: Take care of yourself, too.

I opened my talk with words that have become somewhat of a personal mantra for me: I am my grandmother’s wildest dream.

I am the hope that the women before me carried in their souls. I am the seed they sowed in rocky soil. I am the beneficiary of their strength, their sacrifices, their prayers, their resilience and their determination.

So much of who I am today was shaped by my grandmothers, my mother and my aunts. They taught me how to work. They taught me how to persevere. They taught me how to take care of my family and show up for the people I love.

Sometimes I think about all the women who have poured so much into me over the years, and I wish I could gather every one of them up and take them on a long vacation. I would tell them, “You don't have to plan anything. You don't have to cook anything. You don't have to take care of anybody. Just tell me what you want to do.”

I would want them to sleep as late as they wanted, sit by the water, eat good food, laugh, rest and simply enjoy being taken care of for a change. I would want them to know how deeply appreciated they are. I would want them to know that I see what they have done for me and for the people they love. And more than anything, I would want them to know that they deserve to be cared for, too.

I don't think most women wake up one morning and decide that everyone else is going to matter more than they do. It happens slowly. You become a wife. A mother. A leader. A friend. A caregiver. A problem solver. The person everybody calls because they know you will figure it out.

You work. You lead. You solve problems. You remember the appointments. You take care of your family. You support your friends. You show up for your team. Somewhere along the way, being needed can become part of your identity. You become very good at carrying things. So good, in fact, that sometimes you don't realize how heavy everything has become.

That's one of the things I wish I had understood 20 years ago. Taking care of myself doesn't mean I care less about everyone else. It simply means I finally recognize that I belong on the list, too. And maybe that's one way I can honor the women who came before me. I can inherit their strength without inheriting their exhaustion. I can carry forward their love, resilience and determination while also allowing myself some of the rest, joy and freedom I wish they had given themselves.

Learning to do that has looked different for me over the years. I've become more comfortable saying yes to the girls' trips with a little less guilt. I'm still working on the guilt part. LOL. I've also learned to allow other people to be responsible for some of their own solutions. That one can be hard when you're accustomed to being the fixer.

But one of the biggest changes I've made is intentionally creating space in my life that belongs to me. Not because I've stopped being ambitious. Not because my responsibilities have disappeared. And certainly not because I've figured out some perfect formula for balance. I've simply realized that I can't spend my entire life pouring outward without ever pouring anything back in.

For me, one of the ways I do that is through journaling. I try to protect the last part of my evening as a time to slow down. I rest. I reflect on my day. I release whatever I don't want to carry into tomorrow. And I try to do something that feels restorative. Sometimes that means writing. Sometimes it means praying, reading or simply sitting quietly.

It doesn't have to be elaborate. I think sometimes we've made self-care another thing to accomplish. We buy the right products, schedule the appointment or create another checklist. But what I have needed most hasn't been another thing to do. I've needed space to simply be.

Your rhythm may look completely different from mine. Maybe it's sitting outside in the morning before everyone else wakes up. Maybe it's taking a walk. Maybe it's reading, praying, gardening or enjoying a cup of tea without doing three other things at the same time. Whatever it is, find something that regularly brings you back to yourself.

Another thing I've learned is the importance of having something in my life that I enjoy simply because I enjoy it. For me, that has been studying herbalism and growing plants. I love learning about herbs. I love putting my hands in the dirt. I love watching something grow. And one of the things I appreciate most is that it doesn't have to have anything to do with my professional life.

There is no promotion attached to it. No performance review. No title. I don't have to prove anything. It simply brings me joy.

As accomplished women, I think we can become so accustomed to productivity that even our hobbies start needing a purpose. But everything you love doesn't have to become a business. Everything doesn't have to make money. Everything doesn't have to improve your résumé. Some things are allowed to exist in your life simply because they make you happy.

So ask yourself: What is something that is just yours? And if you don't have an answer right now, maybe it's time to rediscover one.

Another lesson I wish I had learned sooner is that strength doesn't mean doing everything by yourself. Find your people. Maybe it's one really good friend. Maybe it's a therapist or a coach. Maybe it's a group of women who understand the season of life you're navigating.

Find somewhere you don't always have to be the strong one. There is freedom in having someone with whom you can simply say, “I don't have it today.” You don't always need advice. You don't always need someone to fix it. Sometimes you just need a safe place to put down what you've been carrying. And sometimes taking care of yourself means allowing someone else to help carry you for a while.

And there is one more thing I would tell my younger self: Give yourself grace.

We can be incredibly gracious with everyone except ourselves. We tell our friends that they're doing the best they can. We tell them to rest. We remind them that nobody is perfect. We encourage them when things don't go according to plan. And then we turn around and expect perfection from ourselves.

I'm learning that I can hold myself accountable without being so hard on myself. I can want to grow without constantly criticizing the woman I am today. I can acknowledge what I could have done differently and still give myself grace for what I didn't know then. And I can have days when the beautiful rhythm I've created completely falls apart.

That's life. Growth doesn't require perfection. Neither does taking care of yourself.

Twenty years ago, I thought being a strong woman meant being able to carry everything. Today, I see strength differently. Sometimes strength is knowing when to put something down. Sometimes it's asking for help. Sometimes it's choosing rest without feeling the need to explain yourself. Sometimes it's doing something simply because it brings you joy. And sometimes it's looking at yourself with the same compassion you so freely offer everyone else.

If I could sit down with the woman I was 20 years ago, I wouldn't tell her to work harder. She already knew how to do that. I wouldn't tell her to dream bigger. She was already dreaming.

I would tell her not to become so busy building a beautiful life that she forgot to actually live it.

I would tell her that she doesn't have to earn rest. She doesn't have to earn joy. And she doesn't have to wait until everyone else is okay before deciding that she deserves to be okay, too.

I would tell her: You are someone's wildest dream. Don't forget to take care of the woman they dreamed about.

And perhaps that's what I hope the women who heard my talk last week carried home with them. Not another list of things to do. Not another standard to live up to. Just permission to make a little more room for themselves. To rest, find joy, ask for help and give themselves grace.

And to remember that the woman who spends so much of her life caring for everyone else deserves to be cared for, too.

If you needed that reminder today, consider this yours.

May you lead well, live well, and continue cultivating a life of purpose.