Renewal : A Love Letter to My Younger Self and the Woman I’m Becoming
It feels fitting that I’m writing this blog post from my hotel room in San Francisco. I traveled to the Bay Area to spend long-overdue time with my youngest son, yet this trip has shifted in a way I never expected.
“The City,” as locals lovingly call it, holds some of my most cherished memories. One of the earliest was an impromptu rainy afternoon when my dad picked me up from school. We drove into San Francisco to pick up his paycheck and then go Christmas shopping. When we turned onto Market Street, I was instantly mesmerized by the towering buildings and the way stoplight colors reflected off the raindrops on the windshield.
It felt magical.
It felt powerful.
And in that moment, a dream called to me.
I was a junior in high school when I declared to my dad as we were driving down Market Street, “I’m going to work in one of those buildings one day.” I didn’t know what job or what path would take me there, but my soul heard the calling. My declaration was my way of saying, I hear you, Universe. I’m aligned and I’m ready.
I once heard the quote, “It takes roughly ten years to become an overnight sensation.”
The same is true for manifesting a dream.
A dream sets you on a hero’s journey—one that rarely follows a straight line. Six years after that rainy day, I accepted an entry-level job at a tiny ad agency just south of Market Street, long before it ever earned the trendy SoMA nickname.
Walking these familiar-yet-unfamiliar streets now, I feel like I’ve bumped into 23-year-old me. I can see her clearly—piecing together a writing portfolio, finding her footing in a buzzing city, making friendships that felt eternal but faded with time, as all seasons eventually do.
The timing of this reflection is perfect.
Back then, as a young career-driven woman, I never imagined life beyond thirty. Marriage? Yes. Children? Absolutely. But age? Aging? Reinvention? Not even a thought. Milestone birthdays felt like destinations rather than markers on a longer journey.
Now, at sixty, I understand something deeper: your age is simply a number. How you perceive that number is what matters.
“There’s no age limit on your dream, if there is, it’s likely self-imposed.”
I found myself imagining what it would be like to literally run into my younger self on these streets and take her out to lunch. I’d tell her she will one day stay in a beautiful hotel room overlooking the city she once only dreamed of working in. That her days of rude roommates and living off grilled cheese and Cap’n Crunch won’t last forever.
I’d tell her she becomes a successful copywriter—writing for the iconic Barbie brand.
That she becomes the mother of two extraordinary humans.
That she builds a life filled with creativity, purpose, and love.
But do I tell her the hard parts?
That she will be laid off from her dream job.
That the same year, she will endure a painful divorce.
That she will lose two businesses she courageously built—and even the home she purchased on her own.
That she will have to rebuild her finances, her confidence, and her identity from the ground up.
That reinvention won’t be a choice—it will be a necessity.
Would she look at me with fear? With disbelief? Or would she—like she always has—trust her grit and say, We’ve survived everything else. Let’s go.
Regardless of what I’d share, I know I would end our conversation with one thing:
“Thank you for never giving up.”
This weekend was supposed to be about seeing my son, and it was—but it also allowed me to see myself. The experience feels like a fluid then-to-now vision, a beautiful mash-up of who I was, who I am, and who I’m becoming.
I can now see the thread connecting my earliest dreams to my current purpose. The dream was never just about a job or a building. It was an inner calling toward becoming who I’m meant to be. In coaching, I call this aligning with your North Star…the quiet, persistent whisper reminding you of your purpose.
This new website represents the same thing. It’s a renewal. A reclamation. A redesign and redefinition of the dream I’ve carried for decades.
Here I am at sixty, reimagining the vision of me—and daring you to do the same.
It’s never too late, and you’re never too old to live the life you want.
Here’s to renewal.
Here’s to remembering your dream.
Here’s to becoming who you’ve always been.
xo
Live Elevated,
Coach Elle~
