When Growing Means Leaving A Self Behind
I’ve always wanted to be authentic. For a long time, that meant staying loyal to who I believed I was. I fought to protect that identity, as if consistency itself was proof of integrity. What I didn’t notice then were all the selves that lived in between, the versions of me that adapted, endured, and quietly shifted without ever being named.
My identity was forged in fire, and I felt a deep allegiance to the one who survived it. She held the story. She knew the cost. Staying loyal to her felt like honoring what I had been through. I didn’t yet understand that survival selves are built for a moment, not a lifetime.
I couldn’t have imagined that ten, twenty, or thirty years later, I would barely recognize her. Not because she was wrong or untrue, but because she was temporary. The version of me writing now doesn’t live inside the same constraints. She doesn’t organize her life around the same threats. She doesn’t need the same armor.
What surprises me most is not that I’ve changed, but how little access I have to those past selves now.
The Missing “In-Between” Selves
When we are fixated on “The Past” (the fire) and “The Now,” we miss the gradient.
Those in-between selves were the Bridge Builders. They were the ones who slowly, painfully peeled off the armor, piece by piece, even when the “fire self” was screaming that it wasn’t safe to do so. They are the unsung heroes of my timeline.
I remember them intellectually, but energetically, they feel distant, like lives I once inhabited rather than identities I still carry. There’s no betrayal in that, even though it can feel that way. It’s simply what happens when movement is allowed to complete itself.
I’m beginning to see that loyalty to the past can quietly become resistance to the present. Not out of fear, but out of reverence. And reverence, when it hardens, can keep us tethered to versions of ourselves that were never meant to last.
This space I’m in now doesn’t require me to update who I was or make peace through explanation. It only asks that I stay honest about who I am becoming, even when that honesty means admitting that I don’t recognize some past versions of myself.
The Grief of Evolution
If you stop “betraying” your past self and actually let them go, you have to grieve them.
• Mourning the Comfort Zone: Even if the past was painful, it was familiar. Stepping into a new version of yourself involves the “death” of the known entity.
• Compassion vs. Compliance: You can have compassion for who you were without complying with the limitations. You can say, “Thank you for getting me here, but I cannot stay here with you.”
All the past selves you accumulate are meant to give way to the self you are today. Stay with that truth regardless of how afraid you feel to let the others go. Living with a past self can be like living with a corpse in your house.
It’s time to let go!
Reflection Question
Where in your life are you still protecting a past version of yourself out of loyalty, even though your present self no longer lives there?
If this reflection stirred something for you, I’d love to hear how it landed. Share your thoughts in the comments, or simply name what shifted as you read. If you want to stay connected to these ongoing reflections and process notes, you’re welcome to subscribe and continue the conversation as it unfolds.
Transform 
Leave a comment