Ghosts of Our Younger Selves
124: Who we once were, who we are today
Extended stays in my country of birth have given me a unique experience: reconnecting with people I once knew — only as a kid, in grade school, or in my early teens.1
The fact that once upon a time, we’ve known each other through school or the neighborhood or because our parents were friends and we once ran around in pigtails creates a tenuous connection or an assumed bond.
Never mind that decades have since passed, and we’ve lived vastly different lives. Never mind that in those intervening years, we grew up, were shaped by triumphs and tragedies, and became different people.
Someone remarked that our friendship was special or unique because of this long-standing knowledge we have of each other.
But do we really? Like, know each other?
Philosophers have long debated whether we have a true, unchanging self or if we are always in flux.
Heraclitus’ famous phrase, “You cannot step into the same river twice,” captures his belief that change is the fundamental nature of reality, including the self. He is joined by David Hume (who argued that the self is just a bundle of perceptions without any fixed core) and even some Buddhist philosophy, which rejects a permanent self.
On the other hand, philosophers like Plato believed in the soul’s unchanging essence. Descartes, with his famous “I think, therefore I am,” suggested a stable core amidst external change.
When I sit across from my childhood friends, I wonder: are we meeting again, or are we meeting for the first time? Perhaps both?
• • •
Someone says, “Lou, I remember you as very talkative, always giggling, often in center stage when we were kids.” And someone else says, “No, Lou was quiet and always in the background.” Goodness, could these BE any more different?! (Bonus points if you can ‘hear’ that statement in Chandler Bing’s voice.) I honestly do not know which one is more accurate. But I do know the Present Lou is never without her Kindle.
Does it matter which one’s more accurate? Either way, we have to meet each other where we are today. We have to get to know the person each of us has become. We cannot assume anything about each other because life, you know? And there are so many things about the Lou-in-pigtails that I have long outgrown and no longer even recall.
A girlfriend tells me she avoids High School reunions and such. She always feels this automatic impulse to revert to her old self — the way her schoolmates remember her. But then, afterward, she feels a kind of betrayal of her current self. “Why did I behave that way? I’m not that person anymore.”
The parent of a childhood friend tells me her son’s avoiding me because, since the last time I knew him as a fourteen-year-old boy in the neighborhood, he has come out that he’s gay. “Oh my goodness,” I tell her. “I’d love to meet him now.” I hope he does. He’d be surprised that whatever he remembers of that twelve-year-old girl he biked around with is very unlike the person he’s going to meet now.
• • •
When I started writing this piece, I thought it would be about confronting or reconciling our past selves. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder — do we even need to? Maybe it’s less about making peace with who we were and more about letting them be. It’s acknowledging that past versions of ourselves exist AND they don’t have to define us.
Maybe the takeaway is that we don’t owe our past selves anything. We don’t have to fit into old roles just because people remember us that way, and we don’t have to prove that we’ve changed, either.
I tell you, if my past self and my present self met at a party, I have no idea if they’d get along. But I do know one thing: Past Lou would be shocked at how early Present Lou likes to go to bed.
Does this resonate with you? If you met your younger self today, would you recognize each other — or even get along?
🏷 Change & Transitions
💭 muse
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.” — Heraclitus
🍹 reader shout-out
A big shout-out to WAGO reader
who launched her Substack publication, Embracing Ageing a couple of months ago. Through her writing, she is exploring if it really is possible, on a daily basis, to be grateful for the aging process and what it brings, no matter what the outer circumstances are. I hope you check out Embracing Ageing; it should be a lovely complement to what we do here at WAGO!🍭 you said
We’re having a conversation over at The Lounge about the kind of support that has worked best for you when you’re starting something new.
said, “I definitely like to start something alone, just for a sec, but then I try to involve EVERYONE and their dogs too.” 😊Check the convo and jump right in!
💬 last word
Speaking of past selves, you know how a song can take you back, drop you right where you once were, complete with all the feels? Ooh boy. This one right here does it for me.
May the odds be ever in your favor,
Lou Blaser
I was born in the Philippines and immigrated to the US in my teens. Since 2021, I’ve been spending more time in Asia to be with my mom (who has since passed away) and to learn more about the country I know so little about.
Your piece beautifully captures the tension between the comfort of familiarity and the disorientation of change. It's so easy to cling to the past, to the people and roles we once knew, but as you point out, that can be a form of self-betrayal. I love the way you frame it – it's not about reconciling with our past selves, but about letting them be. It's about recognizing that change is inevitable, and that the only constant is impermanence. It's about embracing the freedom that comes with letting go of who we were and stepping fully into who we are becoming.
What a refreshing read. I'm often so aghast at my younger self and how self-centred I was. Your post was a reminder to leave my younger self back there or better still to extend some loving/kindness for being human and fallible and making mistakes that perhaps other people didn't even notice or have forgotten. I've grown to be much more comfortable with who I am now.