I Found My 10-Year-Old Self in a Journal: Here's What She Taught Me About Perfectionism.

Take a moment to land here now… softly. slowly. gently.

I found my 10-year-old self in a journal from 2000.

She was trying.
Really trying.

Page after page of effort… of reaching… of wanting to get it right.

And then, almost immediately, telling herself it wasn’t good enough.

The self-criticism came in before she’d even given herself a chance to discover what was possible. Before she could feel proud. Before she could be curious about what might come next.

It stopped her mid-expression.

And as I read her words, I had this quiet realization—

She didn’t come into the world speaking to herself that way.
That voice was learned.

Somewhere along the way, many of us were taught—explicitly or subtly—that being hard on ourselves would make us better.

More disciplined.
More successful.
More worthy of being seen, loved, or chosen.

So we internalized it.

We became both the one who is trying…
and the one who is constantly evaluating whether it’s enough.

But what I see now, both in myself and in the people I sit with, is this:

That voice isn’t protecting you.
It’s interrupting you.

Interrupting your natural rhythm of learning.
Interrupting the messy, nonlinear process of becoming.
Interrupting the part of you that knows how to discover, through doing.

Because the truth is—

The thing that requires the most bravery isn’t getting it right the first time.

It’s staying willing to be new at something.

To be clumsy.
To not have the language yet.
To let something exist in its early, unpolished form.

To be in the middle of becoming, without rushing yourself out of it.

For many of us, that’s where the discomfort lives.

Not in failure…
but in the vulnerability of not yet knowing.

And when that discomfort rises, the inner critic rushes in to create a false sense of control:

“If I can just get this right, I’ll feel okay.”
“If I fix this now, I won’t be exposed.”

But what if feeling okay was never on the other side of getting it perfect?

What if it lives somewhere else entirely?

—

You might take a moment here, wherever you are, and just notice:

What happens in your body when you’re learning something new?

Is there tightening?
A holding of the breath?
A sense of urgency to figure it out?

And then, gently—

What happens when you imagine giving yourself just a little more space?

Not to get it right…
but to stay with it.

Maybe your shoulders drop, even slightly.
Maybe your breath deepens.
Maybe there’s just a little more room to be where you are.

—

Your aliveness doesn’t come from perfection.

It comes from permission.

Permission to explore.
Permission to create without immediate judgment.
Permission to be in process, and to trust that something is unfolding—even if you can’t fully see it yet.

That 10-year-old version of me didn’t need to be better.

She needed more space to become.

And maybe a part of you does too.

So I’ll leave you with this—

What would shift if you let yourself unapologetically learn right now?

Not someday, when you’re more ready.
Not when you’ve figured it all out.

But here.
As you are.

Hi, I’m Chelsea Saunders,

a trauma-informed somatic therapist, Reiki master, and breathwork facilitator based in Los Angeles. I help people reconnect with their bodies, desires, and relationships through experiential, embodied practices like therapy, Reiki, breathwork, and sound.

If this story resonates with you, I’d love to discover what’s possible together. You can explore my services and schedule a clarity call to see how we can work together — online or in person.

Check out more on the blog!