Do you have an internal seventeen-year-old you, a five-year-old you, etc, through whose eyes you see your current self on occasion? Do you use this to question whether you’ve drifted far afield from who you considered yourself or from your intended goals and whatnot? Or more geared towards imagining your earlier self’s amazement at how things turned out or what you learned along the way that you had no way of anticipating?
My younger self would be super disappointed at where I am now. Learned a lot of harsh lessons a hard way. Lots of potential wasted.
My younger self would be horrified that I’m not religious anymore, other than that, I think he’d be fairly pleased.
My job is making special effects for video games, and I’m now living in another country. Younger me would think I rule.
Younger me would be surprised that I’ve gained weight and lost hair.
But he’d be very pleased with the rest of my life (as am I)
My young self would be appalled at how fat I am.
Not really. That guy was a complete and utter douche. He should be more concerned about what I think of him.
Right up until my first year of college, I figured I’d become a teacher. It never would have occurred to my young self that I’d go into the Navy, then become an engineer, not to mention learning to fly and to sail. I was so timid back then - I’d have been amazed at what was to come had I known!
My young self would be amazed that I lived so long, and did it all by myself. I was convinced at a very young age that I was totally ugly and stupid, could do nothing, and anything I could do was so insignificance as to be worthless.
It’s hard to survive an idea like that, but I did it.
Younger me would not be pleased with what his choices produced.
Oh God no! I’ve got enough insecurities, I don’t need my historical self judging me too! My present day self handles that just fine, thank you very much.
My actual answer to your question is “no, I never picture myself from the point of view of a younger version of myself.”
But if there was one of those floating around in there, their thoughts would be:
Minuses:
Wow, I get fat.
(If the me is 15+): Wait, you’re single and alone? What? What happened to that girl? Or any girl, for that matter?
Good:
I program computers, and get paid for it? Cool!
I get paid how much??? Holy crap, I could buy anything!
I still write, and have actually published two books? Awesome! (Though, what’s that Amazon place I published on, again?)
Holy crap, look at all that stuff I have! Books, movies, games, my own computer, a movie theater all my own, toys, more toys, even more toys? I do buy everything! WOW!
On the subject of all that stuff, I apparently still like all the same stuff when I get old. Cool.
Wow, I get along remarkably well with my brother, considering what an annoying little jerk he is.
Heh, I knew that ‘outdoors’ was a crock. Gardening and yard work suck, and I still don’t do them! High five, me!
Neutral:
An apartment, huh? Looks a little small I guess, with all that stuff crammed in there, but whatever.
Wait, I only read one book a week now? When did I stop reading? (Okay sure, all those other things I’m doing, but still.)
Oh look, I never did learn to cook. Meh, whatever. (I eat way less junkfood than I would have thought with infinite money at my disposal, though.)
I’m still an atheist it seems. Well, that’s not surprising; religion is dumb. On the plus side nobody’s forcing me to go to church anymore at least.
Oh look, I still have exactly one friend, as per my deliberate and methodical plan to have exactly one friend at a time. I guess the plan’s a good one, since I’m still doing it.
Diabetes? WHAT IN THE- oh, wait, it’s super mild and just means you have to take pills. Also I have no conception of my own mortality, so I guess since it’s clearly not a problem [now] it never will be one.
From about age 16 on I never expected to make it into my 30s and I was damn near right having my first cardiac incident at 27. That and I’ve almost become responsible. So I am guessing my younger self would have a LOT of questions for me.
He’d wonder why I was strangling him. And I totally would.
I think my younger self would be pretty excited about the life I’m living, though she might side-eye the choices that brought me here. There was a time when I thought I’d save sex for marriage, that I would of course want a family someday and would never have an abortion, that I would never again live with my parents after high school, even temporarily while pursuing an advanced degree, that I would always devour novels by the truckload and would never be more interested in nonfiction, that I would never get drunk or come within a mile of any illegal drugs, and that I would have at least three cats by now. Oh, well.
He might be a little disappointed that I don’t listen to Heavy Metal anymore.
He wouldn’t like the hair loss, but I did keep my promise to go full bald once my hair line receded.
He’d be glad to hear the hormones eventually kicked in and suddenly girls were paying attention to me (In my 20s anyway).
My seventeen year old self had ambitions, but I have surpassed what my seventeen self expected. Maybe I set a low bar for myself back then, or I was naïve about what was possible.
I then translate this to my own children. I believe that every parent wants to ensure that your children have more opportunities than you yourself did. But am I trying to help them to achieve greater than where I am now, or greater than I saw my own opportunities when I was their age? I think that it is probably the former, which is an extremely high bar. I’m trying to learn and not place undue expectations on my kids.
My younger self would be deeply saddened that I never married or had children, and that it now seems unlikely that I ever will. (Current-self is still saddened by this, but at a manageable level.)
Otherwise, I think I would be mostly OK with the life I’m living now. I don’t think I have betrayed any of my seventeen-year-old self’s ideals.
17 year old me would love to hear me still listening to AC/DC. But he would be SHOCKED to hear my country(!) playlist.
Surprised I’m still kicking, for sure.