Not long ago, I read the most amazing article from
Karen Salmansohn called My 90-Year-Old Self Stopped By with Life Advice. She Did Not Sugarcoat It (A conversation between who I am now and who I’m becoming).

Karen is known for her philosophical and witty wisdom for people who want more from life. This incredibly well-written piece not only resonated with me, but it also reminded me of how we need to listen to, and check in wth, Older Me.

You may remember my recent blog post where I reflected on one of the many favorite sections in my book, Loved Just As I Am.

The Dear Younger Me pieces were written as a virtual hug to the younger version of myself and how I needed to forgive and let go of that version of me. 

They were written because, like so many of us, I finally realized something important: If I could reach back in time, I would be far kinder and more compassionate to myself than I ever was in the moment.

Dear Younger Me, it’s not your fault.
Dear Younger Me, please be kinder to yourself.
Dear Younger Me, listen to that nagging feeling in your gut—it’s right.

After reading Karen’s article, I really felt like I needed to check in with Older Me. It was a beautiful exercise and journal prompt. So, what would 90-year-old Me have to say?

She would likely grip my hand in hers, look me in the eyes, and say:

1) Your future self would choose presence over postponement

There’s a moment in Karen’s story where her 90-year-old self reaches for the “good mugs.” The fancy ones. The ones that are always being saved for a special occasion.

And she basically says, Stop it. Use the mugs.

Because we do this, don’t we? We save things. Joy. Rest. The good outfit. The trip. The version of ourselves that feels free. We save it for later, like later is guaranteed.

But the message was simple: life isn’t meant to be deferred.

Wear the red sneakers. Light the good candle. Use fancy china for everyday meals. Meaning isn’t waiting for a big moment—it’s created in ordinary ones.

2) Anger isn’t a flaw—it’s fuel

This part was so validating, I wanted to highlight it with a neon marker.

The article reframes anger—especially for women—as something we’re taught to fear, swallow, dismiss, or turn inward. And when we do turn it inward, it often shows up as anxiety, perfectionism, or depression.

But anger? In its cleanest form? Is information.

It says: Something isn’t right.
It says: Something matters.
It says: This needs to change.

Directed with intention, anger becomes boundaries. Books. Movements. Leaving. Starting over. The story basically says: inspiration is often just anger that has become socially acceptable.

Ouch. Accurate.

3) Stop asking for permission to exist fully

One of the most powerful lines in the article is the regret of spending decades asking for permission.

Permission to take up space.
Permission to say no.
Permission to have an opinion.
Permission to change your mind.
Permission to leave.

So many of us run our choices through an imaginary committee of approval in our heads—people who aren’t even paying attention, and in some cases, don’t even like us.

The freedom that comes from stopping the permission-seeking is real. Life gets quieter. Faster. Clearer.

You just… do the thing.

4) Busyness and “I’m fine” can be forms of self-erasure

This one hit hard because it’s sneaky.

We can fill our lives wall-to-wall with productivity and still feel oddly absent from them. We can keep saying “I’m fine” until we forget what we actually feel.

The article calls “fine” a white flag—especially for women. A way of saying, I have needs, but it’s not worth trying to express them.

And that’s where the quiet disappearing starts. Not all at once. One “fine” at a time.

The antidote? Space. Honesty. Being “not fine” out loud to someone safe. Not as drama—just as truth.

5) Continued aliveness requires beginner energy

The final takeaway is one I didn’t expect: be willing to be a beginner again.

Not in a “reinvent yourself” hustle way. In a truly human way—where you try something you’re bad at. Where you don’t know what you’re doing. Where you have to stay curious because you can’t coast.

Because mastery without curiosity becomes repetition. And repetition, the article says, is its own kind of dying.

That line will live in my head for a long time.

The Big Message Underneath All Five

At its core, the piece isn’t just about aging. It’s about living.

Love harder.
Rush less.
Stop hiding your needs.
Choose curiosity over comfort.
Use the good china.

Because time is finite, but meaning is still ours to create.

And if my 90-year-old self showed up wearing red sneakers and winking at me… I think I’d listen.