The Grief of Outgrowing Old Versions of Yourself

A reflection of breaking up with your past self

Photo by Milada Vigerova on

I found my old journal last week.

Tucked between some worn books and a forgotten scarf, it sat quietly like a time capsule I didn’t ask to open. I flipped through the pages. Dramatic affirmations. Big plans. The kind of deep, late-night introspection only a 2019 version of me could commit to with that level of sincerity.

And then I found a list.

A goals list titled: “Who I Want to Be by 30.”

Let’s just say: if 2019-me met 2025-me in a parking lot, she might call me a sellout. Or a disappointment. Or maybe just quietly wonder what happened to all that “potential.”

I closed the journal and sat with that weird ache in my chest; the one you feel when you realise you’re not who you thought you’d be… and maybe that’s okay.

Maybe that’s part of the process.

Here’s the truth: Sometimes, growing means grieving.

Not everyone talks about it, but outgrowing old versions of yourself can feel like a tiny funeral with no eulogy, no closure, no one cheering you on. Just you, sitting in the quiet, wondering why becoming “better” still hurts.