You Are Not the You You Used to Be — And That’s Sacred
There is a moment —
after the loss,
after the diagnosis,
after the relationship ends,
after the tools stop working —
when you look in the mirror
and realize the version of you that once held everything together
is… gone.
And the grief is quiet at first.
Not the loud kind that wails in public.
But the kind that sighs when you get dressed in clothes that no longer fit your body or your story.
The kind that sits with you at night when you can’t fake the old affirmations anymore.
The kind that wonders,
“If I’m not her anymore… who am I now?”
Grieving the Self Who Got You Here
You used to push through.
You used to know your next step.
You used to believe.
Now, maybe your body is tired.
Your nervous system overloaded.
Your tools outdated.
Your joy feels like something you have to pretend.
But here’s the truth that no one tells you about healing:
The grief you feel isn’t just about what you lost —
it’s about who you were when you had it.
The achiever.
The caretaker.
The good one.
The spiritual warrior.
The overfunctioner.
They served you well.
They protected you.
They got you this far.
And now?
You’re being asked to become someone new.
The In-Between Is Holy
This isn’t failure.
This is sacred ground.
It’s the compost pile of your old patterns.
It’s the quiet space between your last breath and your next becoming.
It’s the voice you’re just starting to hear inside you —
the one that doesn’t shout,
but waits patiently for you to stop pretending.
The you who is emerging isn’t louder.
She’s just truer.
And she doesn’t need you to perform anymore.
She just wants you to feel.
To listen.
To let the tears come.
To let your breath slow.
To remember that your power was never in how much you could carry —
but in how deeply you could let yourself be carried
by something quieter, truer, realer.
What Comes After the Old Self?
After the grief comes a garden.
After the disorientation comes a stillness.
After the surrender comes a spark.
That spark might look like:
planting flowers in a pollinator garden with trembling hands
crying on a hammock of vines in your Safe Place
speaking to your inner child like a father who finally knows how to stay
turning off the affirmations that feel fake and saying,
“I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
This is where the new self begins.
Not from the pressure to reinvent,
but from the permission to re-root.
You’re Becoming Someone You Can Trust
You are not the you you used to be.
And that is a holy thing.
You are the garden now.
You are the phoenix still resting in the ash.
You are the breath between the sobs.
You are the future self, whispering:
“It’s okay that you can’t see me yet. I can see you.
And I’m already making space for us to meet.”
So let yourself grieve.
Let yourself rest.
Let yourself remember:
You are not lost.
You are becoming.
And that is sacred.
