Letter to My 21-Year-Old Self
I am writing to you from a place you cannot yet imagine.
When I look at your photos from that time, a profound urge to hold you in my arms.
I know exactly what is happening inside your head right now.
I know the obsession that keeps you awake.
I know exactly how you are feeling today: you are chasing a version of yourself that is imposed by a crazy society. I know about the quiet habits you’ve followed, the secrets you carry, and the way you’ve learned to ignore what your body is trying to tell you.
You are running so fast toward goals that aren’t even yours, trying to fit into a place that doesn't represent you.
But I need to ask you to stop being so harsh on yourself. Because your body evolves, AM. And it will transform in ways that will completely surprise you...
...It started quietly when I turned 40. A beautiful dress that had to be taken in because it was too loose suddenly didn’t zip up the same way a year later. By the following year, I couldn't even force myself into it. I blamed the stress. I blamed overeating. Then, a sudden absence of desire crept in, but I dismissed it as routine, exhaustion, work.
Then, the world stopped during the pandemic, I spent two years trapped in Australia due to restrictions unable to visit my Country, unable to see Mom or my friends. When I was finally able to fly upon my return, it felt as if I had been pushed from a ninth floor. I hit rock bottom. I fell into a severe depression; I felt like I was losing my mind, and I even started to think I had something seriously wrong with me. I went to a psychologist, did therapy, and began to climb out of that hole...
...It was only then, through obsessive research and listening to podcasts in English, because the Spanish-speaking world remains virtually silent about this that I stumbled upon a word you don’t even know exists. A single word that explained everything: perimenopause.
As it turns out, I wasn't losing my mind; it was my hormones. And no, it’s not just the "hot flashes" Mom used to talk about. I have never had a single hot flash. Instead, I was met with that horrible feeling of living in a black hole, a strange pain in my ankle when bending down, ringing in my ears, dry and itchy skin, weak nails, and hair falling out in clumps. The most frustrating part is the brain fog; sometimes I end up on one side of the house without knowing what I went there for, I put things away in the wrong places, or I have to make a superhuman effort just to remember my own phone number (imagine that, living across three languages!).
Remember your obsession with the scale? Today, I weigh three or four sizes more than you. At first, it was hard to accept because of our history, but today I try to look at my body with much more compassion.
Now I eat very mindfully, selectively, and healthily. Working out takes three times the effort it takes you; there are days when I wake up feeling strong, and others when I simply don't want to, but I know I have to move.
The first doctor I saw dismissed me entirely. She told me I was too young, that as long as my cycle was there, I was fine. It made me angry to see how even among women, we minimize each other. But I didn't give up. I sought a second opinion, got mammograms and biopsies, and finally found a doctor who helped me with HRT.
The body takes time to stabilize, and I'm still not sure if this is going to work, but it’s worth a try. It’s not about feeling 30 again, but I feel like my hormones, which used to be pure chaos, are now dancing to a tropical rhythm... even if they miss a beat now and then.
If you look inside my purse today, there are no more pills to skip meals. I carry hand cream, a water bottle, and ginger candies for nausea (another symptom I forgot to mention)...
...I am not telling you this to scare you, but so you can prepare. The secret to surviving this has been the courage to speak. To talk to my husband who has been an absolute sweetheart, empathetic and willing to listen, even when I warn him, "I can't even stand myself today and I feel like picking a fight" and talking to the world. Nobody talks about this, AM. It is a taboo, just like menstruation used to be, or so many other things that women carry in silence. And we have to talk about it until people get sick of hearing it.
Today, I am 44 years old. I live in France, I am happily married, I work doing exactly what I love, and we don’t have children. I take life much less seriously and I simply stopped caring about a lot of things.
If I could time travel and sit with you in your bedroom in Bogota, I would hug you so tight and tell you: be patient, speak your truth, and keep moving. You will take two steps forward and one step back, but understanding your own process is going to change your life. I love you. See you at 44.
With all my love,
AM
Physical Letter to my youngest self
