Your Present Self, the One at the Wheel
This post is the third in my series on the three relationships that shape your life. If you're just arriving, start with the first post—it sets the stage for everything that follows, and the series is best read (or listened to) in order.
Want to listen to the article instead? Tune into Spotify.
In the last post, I made peace with my Past Self, the one who got me here but can't get me there. Which raises an obvious question: if she can't get me there, who can?
Only one of my three Selves is holding the steering wheel right now. Not the Past; she's a passenger who won't stop narrating from the back seat. Not the Future; she's the destination, beautiful and a little blurry on the horizon. The only Self with her hands actually on the wheel, at this moment, is my Present Self.
She's the one I'd neglected the longest. And she's the one this whole thing turns on.
Here's a confession. For years, I thought I was being good to my Present Self by being easy on her.
Tired? Skip the workout.
Stressed? Zone out with Netflix.
Don't feel like having the hard conversation? Put it off; she deserves a break.
I called it self-care. I called it listening to my body. I called it being kind to myself.
It was none of those things.
It was permissiveness wearing a self-care costume. And my Present Self didn't grow stronger under it; she grew smaller, more anxious, less able to trust herself. Because here's what I didn't understand: a self you only ever indulge is a self you secretly don't respect.
In the very first post, I said my Present Self needs what parenting experts call Authoritative Parenting. Let me slow down on that, because it's the heart of everything.
There are, broadly, three ways to parent.
The permissive parent indulges, giving the kid whatever feels good in the moment and believing that by doing so, they are raising an emotionally stable and happy child.
The authoritarian parent controls: rules, punishment, no warmth, no conversation. They believe that by parenting this way, they are cultivating mental toughness and grit in their child.
And the authoritative parent does the hard, beautiful middle thing: high expectations and deep warmth. They hold a standard precisely because they love their child, and they stay in conversation with them the whole way.
Most of us, when it comes to ourselves, never find that middle. We swing between the two extremes and call both of them discipline. One week we indulge ourselves into the ground ("I deserve it"). The next week, horrified by the mess, we turn into drill sergeants: all whip, no warmth, hating ourselves toward our goals. Then we burn out on the cruelty and swing back to indulgence. Back and forth, our whole lives, mistaking the swing for self-improvement.
The authoritative parent doesn't swing. She holds the line and holds your hand. And learning to be her, for myself, has been some of the most important work I've ever done.
So what does it actually look like to parent yourself this way? For me, it comes down to two things:
High standards and
Real-time conversation
Let's talk about high standards and what that looks like in everyday life.
Being authoritative with myself means I take genuine care of myself in every way, physically, emotionally, and cognitively, not as indulgence, but as standard. I give my body, my mind, and my soul what they need to function at their best, even when, especially when, a part of me would rather not. I'm strict with myself, and I've stopped apologizing for it.
Strictness, I've learned, is not the opposite of love.
Indifference is.
And the standard lives in this moment. I have a phrase I come back to constantly:
Win the moment in front of you.
Not the year, not the decade. This one present moment.
The Past is memory. The Future is imagination. Now is the only place that has a steering wheel, the only place where anything actually gets decided. My Present Self can't fix what my Past Self did or guarantee what my Future Self will face. But she can win this moment. And a life, when you zoom out, is really just a long chain of moments, won or lost one action (or non-action) at a time.
But it's not enough to have high standards; let's talk about the warmth half, the part that keeps the high standard from curdling into that drill sergeant. An authoritative parent doesn't just bark orders; she stays in constant communication. So I do that with myself, in real time, all day long. I check in. I ask:
How do you feel about this? What do you want? What don't you want? What feels right to you? And what do you need, even if it's not what you want?
That last question is the whole game. Because what I want and what I need are often two different things, and the permissive parent only ever asks the first one. I want the bag of chips and to avoid the conversation.
The authoritative parent asks both and then, lovingly and firmly, sides with the need. She can tell the difference between a craving and a calling, and she's brave enough to honor the second over the first.
Most of us never slow down enough to ask any of these questions. We just react, all day, on autopilot. And then, this is the part that ties the whole series together: we hand the bill to our other two Selves.
Every moment my Present Self refuses to be responsible for becomes a regret my Past Self will torture me with later, and a burden my Future Self will have to carry. When I parent my Present Self well, I'm not just helping her. I'm quieting my Past Self's chatter and lightening my Future Self's load, all in a single act.
That's the thing nobody tells you about the Present Self. She's the only one of the three you can actually do anything with, and so she's the only one who can change the other two. You can't re-decide the past or pre-live the future. But you can win this moment. And winning enough of them, one at a time, is how the past is finally forgiven and the future is finally built.
So here's the work: it's smaller and harder than it sounds. The next time you're about to do the easy thing, pause and ask your Present Self the real question. Not what do I want, but what do I need, even if it's not what I want? Then be the parent who loves her enough to honor the answer.
Next week, we arrive at the most fun relationship of the three, and the one that, for years, looked back at me with narrowed eyes.
My Future Self.
She's been waiting patiently at the end of this series, and it turns out she's royalty. I'll show you what it means to serve the Queen.
Until then, where are you swinging between indulging yourself and bullying yourself? Send me a message on the website or DM me. I read every single one.
In 10 minutes or less, you'll get a clear picture of which area of your life is quietly draining everything else—and exactly where to focus first.
For each question, choose the answer that best reflects where you honestly are right now.
There are no right answers, just your truth.
Once you complete the audit, I'll share with you three handpicked reads from my journal (or you can listen to their audio versions)—chosen specifically for the area that needs your attention the most at this time.
