I Almost Didn't Listen

A conversation with my Future Self

I meet my Future Self in my mom’s backyard.
Warm breeze. Green grass. Blue skies.
Trees, flowers, and shrubs — vibrant and full around us.

Gleefully kicking up our feet, we glide horizontally in our anti-gravity chairs. My two departed fur babies join the feline I currently share space with earthside. They snuggle at our feet after playfully pawing each other. Protectors. Grounders. Nervous system regulators.

My Future Self leans in to me, “I think you just have to wait this out,” she says. “As uncomfortable as it’s been and will continue to be, something is waiting for you. You just need to be patient.”

Not really the answer I was hoping for, but clear direction nonetheless.

A metal shield drops to the earth. It morphs into a brooding wall and a locked door. I saunter over. She’s yelling on the other side, screaming and banging her fists with determination. Commanding that I follow suit — she wants me to join her, without hesitation.

I look at my Future Self again. We smile, commenting on how silly this is.

My meditation guide asks if there might be options around what I’m being asked to do, based on what I see and hear. Pros? Cons? Perhaps something I haven’t considered yet?

I’m here to listen to my intuition around this sticky situation, and one thing is clear: somehow, I managed to gaslight myself. I convinced myself that this could be a good idea after all.

Despite the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. The utter depletion after we speak, every time. How, at first, I vehemently decided against moving forward, and that felt right. Then, over time, she wore me down to the point where I felt stuck, without options.

The gentle nudges. My body’s soft insistence.
My inner knowing was there all along.

I just needed to slow down and get quiet to hear her again.
And, more importantly, I needed to trust again.

Because the more I move in trust with her, the more she speaks, and the more I remember that I already know.