Mourning Past Versions of Myself

The sadness, shedding and transformation that comes with it all.

Black & Vulnerable Diary 05

It’s feels like forever but we finally made it here! I’ve been sitting on this draft for few days and whew, did it feel good to release a lot of things, so here we go😭

Is it just me or does September always feel like it’s a New Year? This month always feels like a transitional period for me, which I’m in need of because the past 3 months have been really really hard for me. I’ve been feeling stuck and also a little sad. Being creative and productive in the midst of it all has been impossible and I’ve consistently been more avoidant. Avoiding my craft, avoiding my goals, my priorities, the people I love, my God damn self, just avoiding it all. I’ve come to this conclusion:

I’m mourning versions of myself that I know I’m ready to outgrow while desperately trying to hold onto the versions of myself that others tried to change.

The scary part about ageing are the parts of you that will inevitably change. You can try to latch on as hard as you want to the things, places or people you feel the most familiar and comfortable with but eventually, we shed these parts of us and sometimes it really sucks. I think there will always be an essence of who we are that can’t be changed but our interests, our pursuits, habits and self-regard, there will always be shifts. There is the little Black girl inside of me, the rebellious teenage me, the adolescence me, and my current young adult version of me — they still share many things in common but tug of war at so many others.

Remember being like 10 and being told “the world is yours” or" “You can do anything”? Well, it feels like it has stopped being that simple. There is SO much out there to learn, unlearn, to experience, to enjoy, to chase, and it’s overwhelming. The world is so massive and to be extremely honest, I’ve lately felt so small in it. There’s s lot of social pressures and influences that crush your spirit a little bit and during these past few months, there were moments I felt like I completely lost the plot and didn’t actually know what I wanted to do with my chunk of the world that is supposed to be mine.

I miss the version of myself that thought dreaming big was incredibly inspiring and ambitious. Now, dreaming big feels terrifying and less practical. I want to hold onto the younger me that seemed so much more fearless. The younger me that was much more experimental, care-free and determined. But past versions of me were also inauthentic, fixed on living up to a particular image, people-pleasing, compromising and very self-critical. I’m more afraid of disappointing others than I am myself, and that’s exactly the problem and maybe why I was experiencing this sense of loss. I’m incapable of dreaming in a way where I feel large and in charge because I’ve been too busy worrying about how everyone else will fit into the dream and what they’ll think of it. Will I adequately fulfill all the expectations, am I on the right timeline? There is so much shedding that comes with finally listening to your own voice and it’s hard to detach from your own skin.

I don’t have the answers and I’m not trying to find it in this very moment. I just know it will come and I’ll forget what I was even looking for when it does. In the meantime, this sadness, this loss of self, I know there is transformation underneath. There is power. There is new life. There is a version of me that will feel genuine, unstoppable, unmistakable and still that big dreamer. I am anticipating her.

The her that isn’t interested in certain spaces or people anymore. Who doesn’t get the same excitement from the same things that once did. Who is replacing old habits with new ones. Who is still the passionate little girl but needed something new to pour into.

I’d be lying if I said I always embraced newness. As much as I desperately want to be the more elevated, distinguished, fulfilled version of myself, I don’t know if I’m quite ready to part with what I must let go of — old habits, old ideals, old loves, old norms, old perceptions, old ways of thinking, in order to get there. Or maybe I am and it will just be hard. Glennon Doyle says, we can do hard things. And she’s right.

We can not hold onto decaying things just to avoid our own discomfort. Until we let go of versions of who we were, the more full, bountiful versions of ourselves remain locked and caged. And the world need that version of us. We need that version of ourselves.

And so I say this all to say:

Many of us are holding tightly to the parts of our skin that is meant to shed. But, do not fear your own transformation. Do not run from the mourning that comes with letting go of versions of ourselves that felt familiar to others but are old to us. We can not hold onto decaying things just to avoid someone’s discomfort — especially our own. We are not static, we are a bountiful of possibilities. There is life underneath all the shedding, there are gardens of blooms, wells of fresh waters underneath that skin. It is yours to drink and yours to grow. There is exploration, courage and power beneath dead skin. There is a version of us that is prickly and inauthentic above it. Breathe. Let it go. Quiet the voice that says “not now” or “you’re not ready”, that voice is small and fearful. You are a giant. And this is your season. A season of fearlessness, rebellion and glorious transformation. Declare it.

Happy New Year lol! Happy seasonal shifts and transformations. <3

With love always,

Ke