Andrea Kirby

A few years ago, Hung Lee asked me to write a letter to my 13 year old self.   That letter to your 13-year-old self was such a gift so it made perfect sense to “pay homage” to it in the lead up to turning 60. Connecting the threads: the shy girl with braces, the 55-year-old in lockdown, and now the woman turning 60.

You’ve written to your 13-year-old self before, the awkward, shy girl with red hair, braces, and bad haircuts, who thought she was invisible. That girl needed reassurance that she’d be okay, that she’d find her place, that she’d learn to stand tall in rooms that once terrified her.

And she did.

But now, at almost 60, it feels right to write again. Not back to her, but forward to honour the lessons you’ve carried all these years.

1. Shyness gave you gifts you didn’t see at the time.
The girl who sat quietly at the edges learned how to listen, notice, and connect with people in ways that loudness never could. You thought confidence was about noise. It turns out it’s about presence. And boy, you have used that presence and you have created noise.

2. The cruelties you endured didn’t define you.
Those mean girls felt permanent. They weren’t. What lasted was your ability to walk into any room with your head up, pause, look around, and smile even when your stomach was flipping. That small skill became a lifelong anchor. It's got you up in front of people, it's given you a voice.

3. Failure is just redirection in disguise.
Every lost job, broken plan, or betrayal cracked you open for something better. Libraries, sales, HR, recruitment, your own business -  each reinvention taught you resilience. The lesson you’ve repeated most? When a door closes, a window really does open. And now you are looking at new ways to be of service to your community - what window will open to you?

4. Relationships are the real measure of a life.
From childhood friends who carried you through the worst of school, to your London crew, to the HR and TA community you’ve built -  people have always been your greatest treasure. That network wasn’t just professional. It was personal, and it kept you afloat. And whilst not everyone is for you, you know that many will always support you as you have supported them. It's OK to move those who do not bring you joy out of your circle.  It's those who see you that you want to keep.

5. Kindness is never wasted.
From strangers who stop to chat to the massive network of people who have supported your business and those that have become friends, you find it incredibly special to walk into a room and have people excited to meet you as they have seen you on LinkedIn and like what you say. You will never take that for granted. You have tried to approach everyone with grace, kindness and a sense of humour. It’s not a weakness. Its strength, multiplied.

6. Staying true to yourself takes longer, but it lasts longer too.
You envied confidence in others, tried on different masks, and worried about what you weren’t. But you always came back to who you are. When you have been lost and wondering what you have to do. You have been blessed to have people remind you and help you find your way back to who you are. And that’s the woman who built a life filled with love, purpose, laughter, and integrity.

So, dear Andrea at 60, here’s what you know now:

You didn’t peak at 40. You didn’t figure it all out by 50. And that’s okay. Life didn’t get easier. You just stopped pretending it should.

You’ve survived betrayal, loss, and failure. You’ve built communities, families, and businesses. You’ve kept going when it would have been easier to stop.

And here you are — wiser, kinder, braver. Still building. Still becoming.

With love,
Andrea