I Met My Younger Self for Coffee (Finally)

A while back, there was a social media trend where you were supposed to take yourself on an imaginary coffee date. It was based on a poem by Jennae Cecelia entitled "I Met My Younger Self for Coffee." The goal was to describe a fictional interaction comparing your present self with the younger, and to highlight ways in which you are different, ways in which you have grown.

At the time, it sounded like an exercise worth doing, but as it does, life got in the way and I never got around to it. So.... I met my younger self for coffee finally. In my version of the exercise, however, I wanted to have a conversation with myself and see what would come of it.

The Meet Cute

I was sitting at a four-top table by the window, drinking a large mocha with the requisite extra shot, pretending to read the New York Times. My medical bag, which only housed my laptop, wallet and keys, was on the floor next to my feet. I was in an oversized black cardigan over a light pink button-down, blue light half-rim glasses, flat khakis and slip-on loafers in cognac without socks. My short black and white hair was combed back and to the side as usual, and my beard–nearly all white at the chin–was neatly trimmed.

His hair was longer than I remember, and pulled back in a ponytail. His face was smooth. He didn't start shaving until he was 20. His all-black clothes were tight and slightly uncomfortable, and his shoes were too small and had an unnecessary heel. He was put together, but dressed more formally than was required. He was tan considering how little time he spent outside. He was shy and somehow still falsely confident. He ordered an espresso even though he had no idea how to drink it.

I waived him over and offered him a seat. He used his fingers to brush hair that wasn't there behind his ear, and we stared out the window together.

The Conversation

I asked him how things were, and he rambled through some mutterance about how busy he'd been and the things he'd been up to. It was still so important to him that no one see the pain he was feeling. He had friends. School was great. He was working at the zoo at 14. His parents were kind to him.... All lies.

I asked him if he had thought about university.

"I think I want to be a journalist," he said. He was a freshman in high school and on his way to being Editor-in-Chief of the paper. His grandfather, his father's father, had planted the idea last summer in Michigan, though neither of us could remember how that conversation ever came to be.

We spent quite a bit of time in silence. Then, I asked him what he wanted to know, unsure myself how to start the conversation we had agreed to have.

"Is it always going to be like this?" he asked brokenly. "It seems like everybody I love leaves me. I don't speak to people at school, but they still won't leave me alone. I'm not a faggot. Sometimes I think about hurting myself."

I set my coffee down and placed my hand over his. "Lukas, look at me," I said. "I'm not going to lie to you. Things are going to get very dark soon, and you won't be able to see your way out. I wish that I could tell you that there is someone who will be there with you, someone you can lean on and trust, but there will only be you. The taunts will stop eventually, but there will be people and men who hurt you, men who try to break you. Things will get physical. You'll live. You'll discover you can make people laugh, and you'll rely on that to distract yourself from the pain. You'll discover that you like beer and whisky...a lot. You'll go through a short phase where you smoke weed. It doesn't really do anything for you. A doctor will give you some pills. You'll think they're helping. You won't know for two years that he gave you four times the dose you actually needed and were addicted. You'll come out. You'll find your tribe. When you think you've found love, he'll introduce you to cocaine. You'll experience tremendous loss. You'll give up on faith. You'll love yourself. The darkness will overwhelm you, and you'll feel so lonely and sad that you'll try to give up. Twice. You'll drink too much and take a bunch of pills one day. You'll be sick, but you'll live. You'll drink too much and and tie a belt around your neck one day. You'll break the shower curtain rod, but you'll live. You'll drink too much a lot. You'll be arrested multiple times, but you'll live."

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered as we wept.

"I know," I said. "You'll think that a lot."

"One day, you're going to discover that you have an uncanny ability to know people. You're going to help them in ways no one ever helped you. You'll learn. You'll teach. You'll heal others. You'll heal yourself. None of what you've gone through will suddenly make sense. You'll just stop needing it to."

The Takeaway

I'm actually going to stop there. I don't want to over-edit or revise what came out in my "coffee date." I'd like to continue, but because I know I'm writing for an audience, it feels like the truth of what needed to surface has come out and I want to focus on that rather than where it might be headed.

If you're reading this, I want you to know that I wrote this in one sitting, and I allowed myself to have this conversation naturally. I had no idea what was going to come out, and it's taken a much more emotional turn than I anticipated.

When you try this exercise, follow the steps below.

1. Choose the age of your younger self to meet. Pick an age you can remember yourself clearly--what your personal style was like, personality, etc.

2. Think of a few questions based on what you were experiencing at the time, but allow yourself to be open to this experience and for it to flow organically.

3. Begin writing and start with how you would behave and appear while waiting for your younger self.

4. Try to imagine accurately how the younger you would approach.

5. Set specifics about the encounter to make it realistic. What would you order? What would the younger you order?

6. Begin the interaction when you're ready and try not to edit what surfaces. If it helps, don't type. Use voice memo or something similar and speak the interaction out loud.

7. Share your coffee date with someone you trust.

A man and his younger self sitting in a coffee bar.

In the end, the goal is to find what helps you feel better and more in control. Embrace the journey, and remember that you are not alone. There is support available, and brighter days are ahead.