Have you ever wished you could sit down with the version of you who’s already made it? The healed, abundant, peaceful woman you’re becoming — what would she say to you right now, in the middle of your fears, in the weight of your becoming?
This poem, “Conversations with My Higher Self,” is exactly that: a heart-to-heart between who I am now and the powerful, soft, wise woman I’m evolving into. It’s for the moments when you feel unsure, stuck, or scared of falling behind. It’s a gentle reminder that your future self already exists — and she’s rooting for you, every step of the way.
I’m tired.
Of stretching myself thin just to keep everyone warm,
Of praying for answers in a language I barely remember,
Of making magic from scarcity and still being called “not enough.”
Tell me—
Does it get easier up there?
It gets clearer.
Not because life stops testing you,
But because you stop questioning your worth
Every time someone fails to see it.
I don’t break anymore when people leave.
I bless them on their way out.
You’ll get here too.
But what about the nights I cry alone?
When motherhood feels like martyrdom,
When bills stack higher than hope,
And love…
feels like a door I’ve knocked on too many times
without anyone opening?
I remember.
I cried too —
Not because I was weak,
But because I was still peeling off the lies I believed were mine.
Love comes.
Not as a rescue,
But as a reflection of all the love you finally gave yourself first.
He’ll come too —
Not the almost, not the liar,
But the one who stays without shaking your foundation.
I’m scared.
That I’ll always live in survival mode.
That I’ll never make enough, be enough,
That I’ll fail the little boy who calls me “mama”
And the little girl I once was, full of dreams and fire.
You won’t.
You’re building something no one before you had the courage to dream of.
You’ll pay off that debt.
You’ll grow businesses from faith and strategy.
You’ll own land, wear ease like perfume,
Speak in rooms you once tiptoed around.
And your son?
He’ll know freedom.
He’ll know joy.
Because you chose to heal instead of hide.
How did you stop being afraid of losing people?
Of being overlooked?
Of not being chosen?
I realized I was never supposed to be picked like fruit.
I’m the whole damn tree.
And I stopped performing for people who couldn’t see gold in soil.
You will too.
The peace on the other side of detachment?
Unreal.
I still miss him sometimes…
The one who almost.
The one who confused me into staying.
The one who said he loved me —
But only when it was convenient.
I remember.
But now I laugh more than I ache.
Because I no longer crave chaos just to feel something.
You’ll stop missing him too —
Not because he stops mattering,
But because you start mattering more.
Will I really get there?
To soft mornings and paid bills,
To healed friendships and safe love,
To not flinching at blessings because I’m used to lack?
Yes, baby girl.
You’re already on the path.
With every boundary you set,
Every “no” you whisper with shaky strength,
Every journal, every prayer, every side hustle,
You’re walking closer to me.
One day, you’ll wake up and realize:
You’ve become the woman you once only dreamed about.
And it won’t feel like a miracle.
It’ll feel like coming home.
Then I’ll keep going.
Even when it hurts,
Even when I feel unseen,
Even when I’m unsure.
Because if you exist…
Then maybe I’m not failing —
I’m just becoming.
Exactly.
Now go drink some water,
Say your affirmations,
Send that pitch,
Rest when you need to.
I’m always waiting on the other side.
And I promise…
You’ll love it here.
We don’t always see the transformation while it’s happening — but one day, we’ll look back and realize how every quiet step, every broken moment we survived, was building the foundation for the life we prayed for.
So if you’re in the thick of healing, chasing dreams with tired eyes and a hopeful heart, know this: your higher self is closer than you think. And she’s proud of you.
Feel free to share this poem with someone walking their own journey of becoming — or come back to it anytime you need to be reminded of who you’re becoming.
You are not lost.
You are not late.
You’re simply rising.With love and unfolding,
Vinaywa
