What would you say to you at 18?
If you could talk to your 18-year-old self today, what would you tell them?
“Let’s make eye contact with everyone in the circle!” the facilitator instructed our 42-man, in-person gathering of the men’s group Men Living. Being encircled by strangers and asked to look into everyone’s eyes ignited both apprehension and exhilaration, as if I were plunging into an unpredictable dance with even more uncertainty on top. This, my second somatic healing experience of the week after publicly dancing to somatic yoga earlier in the week. I shut my eyes for a brief moment, drawing a deep, steady breath to remind myself to let my heart blaze the trail. I cracked a determined smile and slowly swept my gaze across the room, boldly seeking the warmth and intensity in every pair of eyes.
Revisiting that first paragraph summoned raw memories of my turbulent, unconventional rapport with eye contact and raw presence. For a person who had once felt invisible and powerless as a child, making eye contact was a secret language of both strength and vulnerableness—a subversive act of reclaiming power. Inhaling deeply, I confronted the old fears, replacing my habitual, commanding stare with one imbued with tender defiance and fierce self-compassion. My heart, filled with tenderness, guided me, even as my nervous system betrayed with a subtle, tremulous shake in my leg. In that moment I dared to be fiercely alive, extravagantly present.
I’ve carried this instinct to guard my soul for as long as I can remember—it’s woven into my very being. For years, I was haunted by the draining narratives my mind spun about my insignificance born amid neglect and abuse. Today, I embrace my quirkiness: I am unique, interesting, vibrantly playful, undeniably fun, and utterly noticeable. I love myself with a burning passion. I am enough. I am worthy of love, and I am a magnet for it.
One by one, each man in the circle bared his soul, revealing his hometown and a powerful memory from his eighteenth year. I was among the first to speak, choosing instinct over overthinking. “My name is Todd, I’m from Plainfield, IL, and my memory is of arriving at college knowing that I’d never return to the home of my childhood again.” I could have flaunted tales of triumph like being prom king or some glittering achievement, but that wasn’t the raw, healing energy surging through me. Healing trauma had fundamentally remade my lens on life. As each man unveiled his story, a force of gentle, fierce care for our collective younger selves enveloped the space.
Soon, we split into smaller groups, converting solitary memories into a public dialogue with our past selves. “What would you say to the 18-year-old you?”—could we dare to look back with uncompromising self-love and profound compassion? The mutual vulnerability sparked an almost electric connection among us. I felt deep waves of empathy for my younger self—the part that knows the crushing darkness of loneliness, sorrow, neglect, unsaid truths, and the desperate façade of blending in just to be seen.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I spoke before these men, who would witness this moment of spiritual reconciliation with my younger self, I’m so proud of you, I said. Life had been merciless back then—my parents had even sold our home and uprooted our existence, whisking away to Arizona during my senior year. My dad orchestrated a wild, almost surreal arrangement so I could linger in our old home with the new buyers after they departed. The situation was painfully awkward, yet I survived. I also harbored the bittersweet clarity that my first, tender relationship was never meant to endure. That summer, my girlfriend and I recognized deep in our souls that our paths were diverging, and by year’s end, we let go. Stepping onto campus marked the beginning of an entirely new chapter.
When the moment came to comfort my younger self before the circle, I declared with unbridled intensity, “I am so proud of you for coming this far. You are a good man with beautiful heart.” The words carried an almost tangible power as I wrapped my arms around my inner child and whispered fiercely, “I love you.” What a long, strange trip it’s been. Back then, I lacked the tools and support to fully thrive, but thanks to my faith, family, and transformative groups like this, I’ve unearthed a love and joy beyond anything you ever dreamed possible.”
Driving home after this emotionally powerful event, I was struck by the relentless twists and flames of my past that have forged the very essence of who I am. I wouldn’t erase a single moment, for each fragment of my journey fuels my life with an ineffable, all-consuming beauty and love.