When Your Past Haunts You (Literally)

Christine Marie
Mar 19
3 min read

Updated: Sep 8

What if your 2019 self appeared at your door—would you let them in? Imagine this: they’re there in high-waisted jeans and a thrifted cardigan, holding a reusable coffee cup. Their eyes are wide with dreams yet to meet the reality of 2025. Lately, I’ve been thinking about this as I sit in my cozy little apartment in Langley, surrounded by crystals and the faint hum of the 200th Street outside. The past doesn’t just linger—it sometimes knocks.

In 2025, we find ourselves swimming in nostalgia. Y2K fashion is back. We see butterfly clips, chunky sneakers, and vinyl records spinning in the cafes. I’ve caught myself humming old Avril Lavigne tunes while shuffling my tarot deck. This revival isn’t just about how things look. There’s a heavy pressure to “figure it out,” to understand who we were before everything changed—and who we’re becoming in this tech-drenched aftermath. As a psychic medium, I often feel those echoes from not just spirits, but from the versions of ourselves we’ve left behind.

The Pressure to Understand Ourselves

The truth is, understanding ourselves is challenging. There’s so much noise around us, making it harder to tune into our own desires and dreams. The connection to who we were often feels lost in the shuffle of our daily routines. It can be unsettling, especially in moments of silence when the memories rush back.

This connection to our past selves might be our strongest tool. We can find healing by addressing those old wounds. Recognizing that these echoes from our past selves are not mistakes, but lessons can transform how we perceive growth. Each version of ourselves has shaped us into who we are today.

Tuning Into Yesterday

I believe we carry our past like invisible threads woven into our current energy. Sometimes, I hold something simple—an old keychain from my first car, a beat-up Honda I drove around Surrey and Langley in my 20s. Instantly, memories flood back. The trick is tuning in. You don’t need to be a psychic medium to do this.

Find something small from your past: a ticket stub, a faded photo, or even that cracked phone case you promised to replace. Sit with it. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Let the energy bubble up. What whispers from it?

I understand it’s hard to face those old vibes. Back in 2019, I envisioned leading sold-out spiritual retreats by now, not fumbling through Zoom readings and dodging rent hikes. If you’re like me, your teenage self had big plans. “I’ll be a YouTuber!” you declared, filming shaky vlogs in your bedroom. Now? You might be coding apps or fixing drones, wondering how you got here. That gap between your past and present can feel like a ghost haunting you. Here’s the thing: those dreams aren’t gone—they’ve simply shifted shape.

Talking to your past self isn’t about judgment; it’s about listening.

A young woman stares out of her doorway looking out over the city. She is lost in thought about her past.

Messages From the Other Side (of Your Teens)

Want to try something? Grab a pen and paper—I’m serious, humor me. Write a letter to your past self. Keep it real. Share what you wish they’d known, what you’re proud of, and what still stings. For example, I wrote, “Dear 20-year-old Christine, you don’t need to chase everyone’s approval. That little apartment in Langley? It’s enough.”

Then, flip it. Sit quietly, hold that object from your past, and imagine their voice—your voice—echoing back. What would they say?

When I did this, my teenage self surprised me. “I’m proud you kept going,” she said. Her voice crackled like an old radio in my mind. "I didn’t know we were so strong." It wasn’t a flawless exchange, but it felt like a hug across time. Give it a try.

And if you want to have fun with it, I’ve created a Past Self Playlist Generator. It’s whimsical and totally free, just a way to connect with who you once were.

A young woman in her twenties sits in her room thinking about her past and trying to divine a future outcome.

Making Peace with the Echoes

Here’s what I’ve learned in my little corner of Langley, with sage burning and the rain tapping at my window: we don’t have to be perfect to make peace with our past selves. Those ghosts—our old hopes and cringey moments—aren’t here to haunt us. They’re here to remind us of how far we’ve already come.

I forgive the younger me for not knowing better, for stumbling. I hope you can, too. Growth isn’t linear; it’s a spiral, and every twist brings us closer to who we are meant to be.

So, write that letter and channel that response. If you’re feeling brave, share a snippet on social media with #PastSelfTalks. I’d love to hear from you—because we’re all in this together, figuring out how to communicate with the echoes, one step at a time.

With love and a sprinkle of magic,

Christine Marie

Langley, BC