The Notebook I Forgot About
The Infamous Notebook
Welcome to the very first edition of my newsletter. It feels only right to start at the beginning, with a story from my own notebook, written as a 23-year-old at one of the lowest points in my life.
I was 23 years old, living in a tiny box of an apartment on the Upper East Side.
I had been living in the city for less than a year at this point. Waitressing in the evenings while feverishly scouring for a "real job" during the days. A Political Science degree from Penn State in my pocket, but no idea what I really wanted to do.
I had always planned on being a lawyer. Until I didn't. And so, after graduation, I moved to the city in hopes that I'd "figure it out."
What I was ultimately left with was a lot of ambition, restlessness, and curiosity about who I might become. And who I believed I could become.
One evening, for reasons I now can’t fully remember, I opened a notebook and wrote three headings:
I want to have
I want to do
I want to be
And I filled the page.
Last week, while cleaning out an old memento box, I found this notebook. I opened to the first page and I read each word.
I laughed. I cringed...a lot. (Clearly, I was aiming high and shallow in equal measure.) 🤷🏼♀️
I also noticed many things about this list that made me sit there and reflect, admirably, on this young girl...
Being a mother and having children were first on the lists "to have" and "to be."
Having enough money to give back to my family was even then something I longed for.
I wanted to be a daughter to be proud of.
My sister's role model.
A leader.
A giver.
But here’s what really surprised me: nestled between all the material & idealistic wants were these two lines:
“Influence people by knowledge & inspiration.”
“Own my own business.”
When I read those words, I froze. I thought to myself, "Wait? Did I have those ideas back then?"
Because for years, I believed I had “discovered” those desires later in life. I thought my calling to inspire, influence, teach, and eventually start my own business had only emerged because of my two-decade career.
But it turns out, it was in me all along. I just didn’t remember her. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to.
The Lesson I Didn’t Expect
Looking back now, I realize something important: We don’t reinvent ourselves as much as we think. Instead, I think that if we're lucky, we remember who we are.
At 23, I didn’t love who I was. I felt like a failure. I was a bit lost, and I definitely did not feel “worthy” of being someone who inspired others. So I tucked that part of me away.
But now, 22 years later, I have begun to see her more clearly. That version of me, while naive in some ways, was also honest. She already knew who she was at her core.
And I suspect the same might be true for you.
Your Clues Are Already There
If you’ve ever felt stuck or unsure what’s next, try this:
Pull out an old journal, a vision board, or even a list you scribbled on the back of a napkin.
Look for the through-lines, the ideas that have been with you longer than you realized.
Notice which dreams you’ve already lived into, which ones no longer fit, and which ones are quietly waiting for you to come back to them.
Because clarity doesn’t come from starting over. It comes from remembering who you already are.
An Invitation
That’s the heart of the work I do with my clients. Together, we uncover the pieces of themselves they’ve brushed aside, overlooked, or forgotten. And once they see it, they can’t unsee it.
So here’s my challenge for you this week: Go find your old “I want to…” list, wherever it lives.
And since this is my very first newsletter, I’d love to hear from you:
What did you find when you revisited your past self’s scribbles?
What would you love me to write about in future editions?
I look forward to hearing from you.
— Jill
