Becoming Real Without Starting Over
The Rewind Point
Self-iteration helps us release regret. We don’t need to change the past to realign in the present.
A few years ago, I read The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August by Catherine Webb. It’s about a man who, at the end of his life, is reborn into the same one—and remembers everything. Each time, he uses that knowledge to live differently.
That book led to many philosophical conversations (with myself) about going back. What moment would I choose to change? What would I do differently?
This thought came to me again recently and I realized there was no point I would go back to. At least not anymore. At least not today.
What this means for me is that when I look at today, where I am at, how I feel on a regular basis and what I am working towards, I feel grounded. I feel joy. I feel more honest and real in my life. There’s no point in my past I’d redo to change where I am today.
If you’ve ever asked yourself the same question, I believe this: the closer your “rewind point” moves toward the present, the closer you are to alignment.
Obviously I have not gone back in time and redone any moments in my history. But what I have done is continued to examine why these moments were turning points and what I would do differently in order to create a present life that I did not feel the need to escape.
That’s self-iteration.
Reclaiming the Missed Versions
I used to say, “I wish I were the kind of person who…”
Or: “If I were in a different place, I’d…”
Now I ask: What’s actually stopping me?
In fourth grade I wanted to play the drums. But (as I remember it) the music teacher said there were already “too many girls” playing them. I internalized that story for years. When I told my ex-husband in the early years of our relationship, his response was “why don’t you just take drum lessons now?”
And I was like, shit. Why don’t I?
I did take lessons, and I did enjoy them. But in the end, it wasn’t where I wanted to spend my time or money long-term. And now I know that I, in fact, do not want to play the drums, and I no longer tell the story of the music teacher that kept me from them.
That’s the power of trying. Trying gives you closure. It gives you data.
Now if I catch myself thinking “I wish I was the type of person who did yoga every day,” I’d just start doing yoga more often. I don’t do yoga every day, but I do it most days. Sometimes it’s 20 minutes. Sometimes it’s just a few sun salutations. That counts.
I’ve always wanted to write a book. So I’m writing one.
And these things don’t need to be perfect, in fact they aren’t going to be. I’m not likely to sell my book and become famous, but it is a story that I want to read, that I want to exist in the world, so I am making that happen.
Those “I wish..” moments are data. They’re invitations and inner truths asking to be seen.
The coolest part? We. Can. Just. Do. Them. We don’t need permission, we don’t need the exact right conditions, we don’t need to wait until the kids are 18.
The Quiet Clarity of Joy
Early in my gratitude practice I latched onto the phrase “build a life you don’t need a vacation from.”
Vacations are great, but, at the time, they felt loaded. It went by too fast, I didn’t rest enough, I rested too much, all the things!
Sometimes vacations contribute to burnout more than they relieve it, especially when you’re the one planning, packing, scheduling, and making sure everyone else is having a good time.
When we think about building a life we don’t need a vacation from, we need to separate the joy, the rest, the rebuilding from the stress, the planning, the depleting that can come with it.
I am not saying we should stop vacationing altogether. But what if we could stop escaping and start integrating? What if we stopped saving joy for vacations? What if joy became our daily design?
Joy is a signal of alignment. It is not just indulgence, but presence. Not a reward, but a guidepost.
Take Ocean Shores. I go there with my kids, to the same cabins my mom started visiting when she was 17.
In the fall, I love sitting by the fire with tea and a book, playing board games with my kids, watching storm clouds roll in.
In the summer, it’s yoga on the deck, toes in the sand, kids building castles, daring the waves.
I don’t enjoy the 3 hour drive, packing as much as I can fit into my little Subaru with 3 kids, washing sand out of literally everything, or listening to the complaints on the trek back to the cabin after a long day on the beach.
All of this is vacation energy.
But it’s also data. It tells me what feels most real. It shows me what lights me up about vacationing, and what drains me.
There are ways to light up more often and bring the joys of vacation into our daily lives.
I can light a fire, or a candle, and read my book and drink my sleepy time tea. I can pull out the board games with my kids, and I can appreciate the coziness of a storm from my own living room.
I can take my yoga mat outside, feel the grass beneath my feet, and go on daring mini-adventures with the kids.
These things don’t require over-planning. They don’t need you to pack the car, juggle calendars, or drive three hours with tired, cranky kids.
We save too much of the good stuff for perfect moments that never come. They start to become a productivity trap: I will rest once I have earned it. I will experience joy once I have earned it.
Don’t wait for the “perfect” reason. Open the bottle, light the candle, use the good paintbrushes.
Try what calls to you. See what feels good. Let go of what doesn’t.
Logic vs. Lived Experience
I’m so passionate about you stepping into authenticity because I know, with my whole being, how transformative it can feel.
And I’m not just laying down a woo-woo vibe here. There’s science behind it.
Our brains know when we’re being real.
Neuroscience shows that when we make choices that reflect our personal values, the reward centers in our brain light up. Alignment isn’t just emotional, it’s biological. It literally feels better to be true to yourself.
And I’m not just talking about “being happier.” Authenticity doesn’t mean always feeling good. It means feeling everything more honestly. Anger, grief, pride, joy, emotions stop being “good” or “bad.” They just get to be. Because you get to be.
But here’s the catch: Authenticity is one of those things you can understand logically, but you don’t really know until you live it.
It’s like becoming a parent. Logically, you know your life will change. But then it’s 3 a.m., you’re crying in the dark with spit-up on your shirt and a kind of love you didn’t know your body could hold, and suddenly, logic isn’t enough. You’re in it.
Living authentically is like that.
You may know, logically, that stepping into alignment will change your life. And that thought might be just as terrifying as parenthood.
Because deep down you already sense that parts of your life will fall away when you do this work. Some relationships. Some habits. Some expectations.
And even if you know it’s worth it…
You won’t truly understand how worth it until you’re inside it.
And once you are you’ll see it’s not just worth it for you. When we practice authenticity, we don’t just change ourselves, we give others permission to be real too.
And that permission spreads. Until one person’s truth becomes a new way of relating, a new way of working, a new way of leading.
Authenticity reshapes systems.
You Are Not Behind
I am going to be honest. I do have those moments where I wish I figured this all out sooner.
But one of my favorite quotes says “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is today.”
If past Heather could see what current Heather is doing today she would be so proud. And future Heather already is. Because right now I am in the moment that future-me would wish I had started sooner.
You are not a fixed point, and please don’t think that doing authenticity work is going to land you in one place and voila! You are done. You are an iterative process and you get to decide what success looks like when you put out those beta versions, release those patches, and make those small updates.
There will also be moments future-you looks back on and thinks: “Thank you for starting.”
So pick up the pen.
Name the quiet truths.
Build a life you don’t need to undo.
That is the work of authenticity.
Reflective Prompts:
What moment in your life have you most wanted to redo, and what would happen if, instead, you realigned from it?
What quiet trust has been asking to be lived, not perfectly, by presently?
What would future-you thank you for starting today?