I Met My Future Self For Coffee

I walked into the café, scanning the room for a familiar face. And there I was—sitting at my usual corner table, back to the wall, people-watching, casually sipping a cold brew with a touch of heavy whipping cream.

I hesitated before approaching. What do you even say to yourself when faced with…yourself? But—she-me—looked me in the eyes and smirked.

“Finally,” she said, swirling her coffee. “I was starting to thing you’d ghost me.”

Someone’s spoon in the café clinked against their ceramic mug. A rhythmic sound. Steady. Certain.

I sat down, studying her, studying me. She looked different—clearer, lighter, like someone who had finally stopped fighting against herself and started working with herself. She rolled the cup between her fingers, as if weighing a decision I hadn’t yet made.

“You look good,” I told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Of course I do. You did the work.”

And there it was-the acknowledgement of every misstep, every restart, every moment I swore I had “it” figured out only to crash into the next obstacle.

She remembered the years and years of jumping from one “miracle” diet to the next, collecting food rules like battle scars. The raw exhaustion of trying to trick a body that needed healing, not punishment. The quiet fear that maybe I was just destined to be stuck, forever chasing a version of health that seemed effortless for everyone else.

She remembered the late nights Googling symptoms and solutions, the frustration of doctors dismissing me, the eventual relief of finding answers-not in another gimmick, but in actual science. The shift from desperation to empowerment once I figured out the role my thyroid and hormones had been playing all along.

Then of course, there was the real plot twist the part where I didn’t just change my approach to food, but my entire life.

The day I left behind the chaos for the calm. Moved to the country. Swapped city noise for wide-open spaces. Let go of the version of me that lived in the margins of survival and stepped fully into a career where I could help others escape the same cycles I had.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, tapping her fingers against the table-impatient, knowing.

I thought for a moment. “Do we ever figure it all out?”

She snorted. “No. But we get better at choosing what’s actually worth our energy.”

I nodded. That sounded right.

We sat in silence for a moment, letting the taste of the coffee and self-recognition settle between us. A mirrored action. Two versions of me-past and future-sipping at the same pace.

Then she leaned in, voice softer now. “Just don’t forget-you’re doing better than you think.”

 And with that, she stood up, tossed a knowing glance over her shoulder, and walked out. I watched her go, wondering if I’d ever meet her again, or if she’d simply evolve into someone new next time.

As I sat there, I caught my own reflection in the café window. And for the first time, I didn’t just hear the words—I felt them.

I paid for both drinks. It seemed only fair.

-Coach Sherri

For the Reader:

"Your future self already knows you can make it. How long before you believe him/her?"

"When was the last time you sat down with the version of yourself who’s waiting?"

"The hardest part isn’t healing. It’s trusting that you’re allowed to."