The Two Future Yous

A Rude Awakening

Sometimes the brain surprises itself. Mine does, anyways. When I give it the chance.

I didn’t do this to scare myself or to feel ashamed. It’s easy to get caught in the loop of daily habits and routines without stepping back to look at the big picture. I decided to take a quiet moment to imagine who I might become 20 years from now, depending on whether I stayed sober or continued using.

What came out of it was stark and disquieting. It gave me something to hold onto, a clearer sense of what matters to me and what I might want to avoid.

What 20 More Years Of Using Looked Like

This version of me looked sick. Grey skin, bloated body, sluggish posture. But what really got to me was the look in his eyes. He was angry. And not just at life—he was angry at me. He said, “Why did you do this to me?” and I could feel how much pain and resentment lived inside him.

There was no energy, no light, no movement in him. Just the weight of regret. A life that had narrowed, not expanded. It wasn’t dramatic—it just felt heavy and dull and filled with resentment I couldn’t escape. It was gross. I hated seeing it.

What A 20-Year Sober Future Looked Like

The sober me didn’t say anything at all. He was too busy loading a kayak onto the top of an SUV, smiling, barefoot in the woods, surrounded by happy kids. My wife (which I don't have yet) was there too, and the whole scene felt warm, natural, alive.It wasn’t flashy or perfect—it was real. And it felt so far away from the other version of me that it almost hurt, in a good way. Not because I thought I couldn’t get there, but because I suddenly realized how possible it actually is. I even have 2 kids in this future. With bicycles.

Bicycles and kayaks? Who is this future me?

Making A Definitive Choice

In the meditation, it felt like I was standing at a fork in a path. Each future had its own string of time leading into the distance. And in that moment, it became incredibly simple. I imagined cutting the string that led to the version of me still drinking and using. It was quiet. No ceremony. Just a choice. One path gone. One left. And it felt like relief.

I think the mind sometimes needs symbols like that. Simple visuals to make big changes feel a little more accessible. It wasn’t about punishing myself. It was about releasing a future I didn’t want, so I could walk more fully toward the one I do.

From An Idea To A Real Feeling

That small moment gave me something real to hold onto. Not just the pain of what I want to avoid, but the feeling of what I’m building toward. That kayak, those kids, the warmth on my skin—all of that lives on the path I can still walk. And when it’s hard, I can remember that.

It's so strange what the brain invents for itself. You prompt it with "sober me in 20 years" and suddenly you're camping. I never camp.

The Source Of Real Motivation

I always find that clarity of mind doesn’t come from reading or thinking or trying harder. It comes from trying to stop doing all that. Much easier said than done. But once you see the difference between where you could go and where you want to go, you can’t unsee it. That’s where the motivation lives—not in fear of failure, but in knowing that there’s a version of you out there who is already living the life you’d be proud of. You just have to keep walking toward him.

I think that's pretty inspirational stuff.

Much Love,

Matt von Boecklin

Founder / Quit Kit

Sources for further reading:

Tara Brach, Radical Acceptance (on guided imagery and mindfulness)

James Clear, Atomic Habits (on identity-based change)

J.S. Beck, Cognitive Behavior Therapy: Basics and Beyond

Psychology Today (2020), “How Imagining Your Future Self Helps Break Bad Habits”