I have to be honest with you. At 25, the thing that held me back most was something I didn't believe. I didn't believe in me.
That was around the year 2000. Half my lifetime ago now. And if you'd met me then, you'd never have guessed.
The front
I had a big front. I made sure everyone thought I was really confident.
Inside, I was kind of a scared little boy hiding behind all that bravado.
I don't think that's rare. I think a lot of us build the front first and hope the confidence catches up later. The trouble is, a front takes energy. You have to keep it up. Every room becomes a performance, and you're never quite sure if people like you or the version of you that you've put on for them.
I've written before about two photos of me, taken years apart, in the same Adidas Superstars. The man in the first one was afraid of rejection and of not being good enough. That fear didn't start there. It was already in the 25-year-old with the big front.
So the first thing I'd tell him is this. You don't need the front. The people worth having around will like the real you just fine, scared bits included. And the ones who only like the front were only ever getting half of you anyway.
Would he have listened? I honestly don't know. What would it have taken for you to listen at 25?
Forever
The second thing is about time.
At 25 I thought I had forever. Time was never going to run out. There'd always be another year to get round to things. Another summer. Another go.
The older you get, the more you appreciate the time you actually have. I don't mean that in a gloomy way. I just notice it now in a way I never did then. A year feels like something you can spend well or waste, and you don't get it back either way.
What are you putting off because there's always next year? A trip, a phone call, a conversation, the thing you've always said you'll make one day? What would it take to do one of them this year?
If I could go back, I'd want to give my younger self two bits of advice that sound like they pull in opposite directions.
Plan for the future. Think about where you want to be in ten years, and start putting a few things in place for it.
And live in the moment. Make the most of the time while you've got it, because you won't always have this much of it, or this much energy, or these people around you.
They can sound like they cancel each other out. Plan, or live. Pick one. I don't think they do. A bit of a plan is what lets you relax into the moment, and paying attention to the moment is how you find out what the plan should be for.
Funnily enough, the two things are linked.
When you're putting energy into looking confident, you're spending time. Time on the front, time worrying what people think, time not doing the thing because you might look silly doing it.
That's the bit I'd most like to hand back to him. All the hours spent keeping the front up could have gone into actually having a go.
It's a big part of why I wrote a book called Done Beats Perfect. The idea is simple: getting something done and out there beats waiting until it's perfect, or until you feel ready. Plenty of us wait until we feel ready. At 25, I looked ready. Inside, I wasn't sure of anything.
I can't send a note back to the year 2000. But you might be able to send one forward, or across the table to someone who's 25 right now.
So what would you tell yourself at 25? I'd love to hear it.
