Can you remember what you thought about yourself and the world when you were nine? I had a vague idea, but my five- year-old and I found the autobiography I wrote when I was nine. Now I know exactly what I was like when I was nine, and I want a do-over.

I had pasted my school picture on the cover and cut out words to describe myself. By far the largest word I cut out was “Imagination.” I saw the word “short” more than one time, but there were other words that struck me as odd for a nine-year-old. I had pasted these words onto the cover- “practical,” “sensible,” “cheap.” What?? I was just using those words to describe myself last week-although I substituted the word “frugal” for “cheap.” But at nine? I was afraid of turning the page.

I had created a chapter for each year of my life, from birth to age nine and dedicated a separate page for each member of my family with the final page titled “My Future.” Apparently, I was a solemn child. In describing my birth, I expressed how I caused my parents great inconvenience because my birth delayed my family’s ability to travel to America from a refugee camp in the Philippines. I even included a picture of myself as an infant, and the caption I wrote was, “Here I am as a baby. I don’t look all that happy, do I?” The pages about the toddler years included more of the same. It became interesting when I entered the school years.

I devoted two paragraphs of kindergarten discussing the amount of work I invested in making sure I knew the words to the songs we performed during kindergarten graduation and that the amount of time I spent on it paid off because I remembered all the words. In first grade, I talked about how the highlight was winning the spelling bee, but ended with how we came in second place for field day, and how I wanted to be first. In second grade, I lamented over how I only won two of the three spelling bees and came in second again during field day. In third grade, yada, yada, yada. I can’t tell you how ashamed I was reading this to my daughter. Even she noticed the trend and asked why I talk so much about school, grades, and winning first place.

But wait…I haven’t shared with you the best part yet…”My Future.” Well, in the future, I foretold how I was going to be a chemical engineer and how I was going to be very rich as evidenced by my big house with stairs and a swimming pool. But I knew I was going to have to work extra-hard in school because math and science were not good subjects for me, which was going to interfere with my plans of being a chemical engineer.

It’s all so cringe-worthy. I was one insufferable nine-year-old. Oh, why did someone not sit me down and explain that (1) the world did not revolve around me, (2) that life is about more than academics and stockpiling trophies and certificates, and (3) that aspiring to be someone other than who you are leads to frustration and disappointment? I eventually learned all of that, but how much more content I would have been with myself had I learned it early.

How did I turn out? Well, someone in my family became a chemical engineer. It just wasn’t me. I never fell in love with math and science. In fact, when I was college, I thought it would be romantic to be a starving author who wrote by candlelight. As a law student, my heart leaned towards public service, which led me to the non-profit child welfare organization I work for now. I laugh at the future I envisioned for myself at age nine. A swimming pool? I have a fear of drowning. Stairs? I adore my one story house. It’s impractical to heat and cool a two-story. And as for the riches?

I have husband, daughter and extensive family whom I adore, clothes, food, shelter, health, a loving church family, and fulfilling career. I would say I’m pretty rich.

Don’t you think?

(Oh, and I'd like to think I grew up to be more like my nine-year-old self in this picture!)