I was talking to a good friend yesterday about how my life has changed over the past 17 years. I realised that the person I was back then is essentially gone — not just changed, but gone. That version of me no longer exists, and it got me thinking more deeply about what that really means.
When my mental health hit a low point, I made the decision to look inward — to try and figure out what was making me feel this way. Some of it was external, sure, but a lot of it came from within. My own thoughts, feelings, and beliefs — things I’d been raised to accept — didn’t actually align with who I truly was.
Over those 17 years, I began slowly unpicking those beliefs. I started changing them. I distanced myself from people who didn’t align with my values or who caused me pain, and instead surrounded myself with people who lifted me up — who cheered for me, even when life wasn’t going to plan.
But even after all that work, there are still parts of me that carry guilt and sadness. I feel sorrow for those younger versions of myself — especially the child who didn’t understand what was happening inside their own brain. I think about how that confusion affected the relationships closest to me. And even though I can now look at my life and see I’m in a much better place, there are still moments where I feel like a failure.
Why is that?
Well… my marriage ended just a year after the wedding. I tried living alone and couldn’t manage it — I had to move back home. Relationships I built fell apart. And when things like that happen, it’s hard not to turn the mirror inward and wonder if maybe — just maybe — part of the problem is me. Maybe I am broken. Maybe I can’t hold onto meaningful relationships. Maybe I can’t live independently.
But thinking that way has a cost. And it’s a cost I pay — emotionally, mentally — and sometimes, so does my family.
I know there’s still work to do. On myself. On the burdens I feel I place on others. But I guess that’s the thing — growth never ends. It doesn’t stop just because you hit adulthood. Your life isn’t carved in stone. You are still becoming.
And becoming takes time.
It takes love.
It takes care.
So be kind to yourself.
You’re amazing.