Future You

Dear Kids,

You are going to spend a lot of time worrying about problems that don’t fully exist yet.

Not fake problems, exactly. Just incomplete ones.

Problems without all the facts. Problems without the final shape. Problems your brain is trying to solve like a Rubik’s cube you’ve only looked at from one angle, convinced you can guess the other five sides.

This is one of anxiety’s favorite tricks. It begs the current you to solve something that belongs to future you. And current you, being responsible and slightly terrified, says, “Absolutely. Let me clear the decks and ruin my next six hours.”

I know this because I have done it many times.

I have worried about conversations before I knew what needed to be said. I had the illusion that I could prepare for every eventual permutation before anything was real.

And somehow, after all that advance panic, future me still ended up being the one who had to handle it.

Annoying, but informative.

Because here’s the thing: future you is not a stranger. Future you is you but with more information.

Future you will know what actually happened. What the person actually said. What the choice actually becomes once it stops being a foggy little monster in your imagination.

And that version of you deserves some trust. Or at the very least, an acknowledgment that they exist.

Not blind trust. You can’t just put off studying for an exam because this “future you” fellow will figure it out.

Make the call. Write it down. Get help. Take the next productive step that is actually available.

But after that, you’re allowed to stop trying to live the whole thing in advance.

You do not have to pay interest on tomorrow’s worry today.

Future you has handled every single problem that made it far enough to meet them. Not always perfectly, but here you are.

They showed up. They figured out the next move. They survived the awkward thing.

So when your mind starts racing ahead, trying to solve the Rubik’s Cube of future events, try to remember this:

You are not abandoning the problem.

You are handing it to the version of you who will actually have to be there.

And that version has a pretty good record.

Now get some sleep.

Love you more than you’ll ever know,

Dad

P.S.

If this letter landed with you, would you forward it to someone who you think would like it too?

This letter is original work from The Unfinished Dad (© 2026). Feel free to share it, quote it, or forward it; just please credit the source and don’t present it as your own.