Lately, I’ve been thinking about how we talk to ourselves when things feel uncertain—especially as entrepreneurs.
There’s a lot we don’t say out loud: the slow seasons, the rejections, the quiet fear that maybe we’re not good enough after all.

So I wrote a letter from my future self to my present self. Maybe you need to hear this, too.

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What My Future Self Wants Me To Know

Hi Jonna, it’s me—Jonna from 10 years in the future. I want you to know that it will all work out. Not exactly as you planned, but better than you can imagine right now.

I remember that moment: sitting at your desktop, sleep‑deprived because the twins were sick again and you hadn’t really slept for the first two beautiful years of their lives. Today, they’re 12 and thriving. You do get some well‑deserved rest. Just hang in there for now.

I also remember how hard it was to find new clients, new projects, or even a job. The polite rejection emails—or no responses at all—were brutal. You kept wondering if you were good enough, even with four degrees and a work history that many people would envy. It was overwhelming and draining, and there were days when you quietly questioned everything you were building. But again: hang in there. Something better is on its way.

If I could have talked to myself then (and that’s what I’m doing with this letter), I would say: keep the faith. Don’t let it fade. Don’t give in to the negative chatter or to the people who try to put you down. Listen to your gut. It keeps whispering that you are amazing.

The loud negativity of the outside world is just noise, designed to distract you because it’s afraid of your potential. Like a lion roaring to scare you off, it sounds intimidating—but you don’t have to fear the roar. Listen to yourself. Trust what you already know.

Ten years from where you’re sitting, I’m still at my Mac—a newer version this time. The one you’re using now is a “legacy model,” as they called it at the Apple Store. It got us through the tough times, and eventually, you got the upgraded one you always wanted.

I’m 10 years ahead of you now, and we’re happy. I did write that book, so don’t let go of the idea you have. It becomes a success. Once you start writing, it flows because you know exactly what you’re talking about. And trust me—or you, or us, we’re the same anyway—you get it all: the book, the house by the lake, the happy marriage, and the never‑complaining tweens (or maybe you just learn to tune out the occasional drama).

The book sells millions. It’s translated into Finnish and eventually used in the education system as a trusted guidebook. So keep working on it.

Work settles, too. The clients arrive. Business is slow now, and I remember how heavy that felt—the doubts, the comparison, the quiet panic when the inbox stayed empty. But everyone goes through phases like this. You are not as alone as it seems.

You are kind, smart, worthy, and so freakin’ quirky—and that’s your magic. Don’t get lost in the “you need to be this to achieve that” noise. Just do you.

Remember the sticker on your computer? It should still be there. Look under your left palm. Does it say, “Just do your thing”?

So, hi again, Jonna. This is Jonna, 10 years from now. In a nutshell, I’m here to remind you: just be you and be proud of being you. Just do your thing. You can’t be anyone else.

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What My Future Self Taught Me About Slow Seasons

When I read this back, I don’t just see a hopeful future. I see a version of myself who trusts that slow seasons, doubt, and exhaustion don’t mean failure—they’re just part of the story.

If your future self wrote to you today, what would they say about the season you’re in right now—especially if things feel slow?

Maybe they’d say: hang in there. Something better is already on its way.