A LETTER TO MY 8‑YEAR‑OLD SELF
Dear eight‑year‑old Dipsy, I’m writing to you from 42 years in the future — just turned 50. Hard to believe, right? But here’s the truth: 50 doesn’t feel as old you thought it would or as distant or daunting as you think when you’re curled up watching your favourite cartoons with wide, hopeful eyes. I’m not exactly sure where to begin, so let’s just start and let the words flow. You’ve always dreamed big — the kind of dreams that set your heart on fire. You believed that wanting something with all you had was enough, that life would meet your courage halfway. That kind of dreaming? It takes real bravery. I’m proud of that young girl. I wish I could say everything turned out exactly the way you hoped. But it didn’t. Life twisted and turned in unexpected ways you never saw coming. The path cracked beneath my feet. I stumbled — more times than I can count. Doubt crept in. I felt small, overwhelmed, lost. But here’s the truth I want you to remember and hold close: I never stopp...
