I used to believe that heartbreak was all about mourning the loss of someone else—their absence, their silence, the sudden emptiness they leave behind. But as I’ve journeyed through my own healing process, I’ve realized that some of the hardest parts are not about the person who’s no longer there, but about the versions of myself that I’m leaving behind.
There’s a unique grief in letting go of who you used to be—the one who dreamed a certain dream, who painted vivid pictures of a future that now feels impossible. The girl who imagined her life going one way, only to find herself standing at a crossroads, knowing she can’t bring that old self along for the ride. I’ve found myself missing these versions of me, even as I know they no longer fit where I’m headed.
Grieving these parts of ourselves is different from the sadness of losing someone else. It’s more like a deep, inexplicable nostalgia for a person who existed inside of us—a person we’re slowly saying goodbye to. I’m not sure if “sadness” is the right word for it. It feels more like a bittersweet farewell, a letting go of old coping mechanisms and familiar patterns that used to keep me safe. They once served me, but now they no longer do.
It’s a strange experience, this process of becoming someone new. It often feels like shedding layers, like peeling away parts of myself that I no longer recognize or need. Each step feels like both a loss and a gain, a constant balancing act of saying goodbye to one version of me while welcoming another. There are days when I barely recognize myself, not in a negative way, but in a way that feels overwhelming and, if I’m honest, a little frightening.
Yet, I’m also proud. Proud of the growth, the revelations, and the way I’ve slowly come back to who I am at my core. But there’s also that unnamed nostalgia, a feeling that hovers at the edge of my consciousness—a nostalgia that I can’t quite touch, only feel. It’s like missing an old friend who was once me.
If any of this resonates with you, if you’ve also found yourself in this space of letting go and becoming, I wanted to share a few ways to honor those parts of you that you’re gently releasing:
- Acknowledge Your Feelings. It’s easy to dismiss what we feel or tell ourselves that we should be feeling something different. Don’t gaslight yourself into thinking you should be feeling one way instead of another. Allow yourself to hold space for the very real human experience you’re living.
- Ask Yourself Often: “Am I allowing myself to experience my human journey without judgment or shame? If not, what small shift can I make to create room for my humanness?”
- Reflect on the Versions of You You’re Holding Onto. Sometimes we cling to an old version of ourselves simply because it’s familiar. Ask yourself, “What part of me am I still holding onto, even though I’ve outgrown it? How can I thank this version for trying to keep me safe in the best way it knew how?”
- Honor the Emotions that Come Up. When you think about the future you once envisioned, and realize it may never come to be, what comes up for you? How can you honor those feelings and the person you’re becoming now?
- Imagine a Conversation Between Your Past and Future Selves. If the past version of you and the future version of you could meet, what advice would they give each other? What comfort would they offer?
I’ve come to realize that one of the reasons we struggle to let ourselves grieve—whether it’s grieving a person, a dream, or an old self—is our deep desire for control. We, as humans, love to think we can control things, even our emotions. I’ve met so many people who say they can compartmentalize, but I don’t believe that’s really possible. We can try to shove things into neat little boxes in our minds, but those feelings and memories always find a way to resurface.
Grieving is hard because it requires surrender. It means allowing ourselves to feel whatever comes, without trying to push it down or numb it out. And sometimes, we just aren’t ready. We may not be ready to face the pain or the reality of what’s been lost. I’ve experienced this firsthand—thinking I was fine, only to be blindsided by a wave of grief years later, when I least expected it.
Grief is unpredictable and, often, it doesn’t look like what we expect. It might show up as anger, numbness, or even random bursts of emotion. But however it appears, it’s ours, and we have to let it be what it is.
I’ve also learned that grief isn’t just a feeling—it’s a process, an act of love. It’s a love letter to who we were, what we lost, and what we’re still finding. And while it never fully goes away, it evolves. Like a river in a storm, it changes pace, but it’s always there, shaping the landscape of who we are becoming.
So, if you find yourself grieving parts of yourself or a life you thought you’d have, know that you’re not alone. Remember that there’s no right way to do this, no timeline to follow. It’s your journey, your loss, and your love, and all of it is valid. And perhaps, in the end, that’s the real gift of grief—it’s the price we pay for having lived, for having loved, for having dreamed. And it’s worth every tear.
Sheena says
Beautifully articulated!