I’ll share first: The part that became easier was my needs because I learned not to have them. The part I miss is the version of me that wanted things without apologizing.
What part of yourself became easier to love after you edited it? What do you miss? 🤗💛
The part that became easier to love was my certainty.
Or maybe more accurately, my willingness to disagree.
I learned very early that it was often safer to soften, explain, translate, justify, or make room for everyone else's perspective before fully standing in my own.
Not because I didn't have opinions.
Because having them sometimes came with consequences.
What I miss is the version of me that trusted what she saw without immediately checking whether everyone else agreed.
The version who shared an insight before wondering if it was too much.
The version who desired things without needing to build a case for why they were reasonable.
The beautiful thing is I don't think she's gone.
I think she's been waiting.
And honestly, one of the gifts of this season of life has been finding mirrors that help me recognize her again.
This is so beautiful. “The version who desired things without needing to build a case for why they were reasonable” stopped me for a minute because I think so many of us learn to become lawyers for our own wants before we ever allow ourselves to have them. I also love what you said about certainty. Not certainty as being right but certainty as trusting what you see before checking the room to make sure everyone agrees. This feels like such an important distinction. Btw your last line made me smile. 😊Not mirrors that tell us who to be. Mirrors that remind us who we already are. Thank you for sharing this. I have a feeling a lot of people reading these comments are going to see themselves in your words too. This is why I built the HSP Sanactuary for comments like yours. 💛🤗
Starting at such an early age tells me the editing and the original were happening at the same time. Also there was never a version that got to exist untouched first. I am curious if that's the part that makes it so disorienting now. It's not that the original is gone. It's that you're not sure it was ever allowed to show up. 🤗💛
Tbh this makes so much sense to me. If you’ve spent years becoming who everyone else needed you to be, meeting yourself again can feel a little like meeting a stranger at first. I keep coming back to the idea that the original wasn’t lost. She was just hidden under layer after layer of adaptation. Sometimes the first step isn’t figuring out who you are. It’s noticing all the ways you’ve learned not to be. 💛🤗
Les, thank you for sharing that. I think a lot of us assume we’re supposed to have a clear answer to “Who am I?” by now. But when you’ve been editing yourself since childhood, it can be hard to separate who you are from who you learned to be. The good news is that uncertainty doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. Sometimes it means you’re finally asking the question honestly. 💛🤗
Oh! No! Salty! This is such a painful role to have to learn. Dumb enough not to threaten anyone. Perky enough to keep the room comfortable. Responsible enough to pick up what the adults dropped. Girl, that is a lot for a child to carry while still trying to figure out who she actually is. Thank you for naming it. I think a lot of people will recognize some version of themselves in what you just said. I did! 🤗💛
I was the "old soul," like I chose to hang out with the adults...taking care of a drunk mother at age 8 and babysitting my brothers until I was ablebl to escape once I graduated highschool (to attend college). I'm now 52 years old, alone, agoraphobic...and still taking care of my mother, in one way or another.
Thank you for sharing Les! What struck me was the distance between those two ages. Taking care of a drunk mother at 8. While still feeling responsible for her at 52. This is a long time to carry a role that was never meant to belong to a child. I can hear how much you’ve survived, but I can also hear the exhaustion underneath it. Your comment reminded me that leaving isn’t always the same thing as being free. Sometimes our bodies and nervous systems keep carrying responsibilities long after we’ve physically escaped them. I’m really glad you’re here. Thank you for trusting me with this part of your story and sharing it publicly. It’s very brave of you. I see you. 🤗💛
Les, now you made me even more emotional too. In the best best of ways. I mean it. Thank you for trusting me with your words and your heart here. If this helped you feel seen today, then this essay already did what I hoped it would do. I’m so grateful you’re here. 🫂💛🤗💖
Les, thank you. Comments like yours mean more to me than you know. So many of us have spent years thinking we were the only one. The only one who felt too much, carried too much, or questioned ourselves this much. If these essays help you feel less alone, then every vulnerable thing I’ve shared has been worth it. I’m really glad you’re here and we crossed paths today. You’re welcome back here anytime to hang in the comments if something else speaks to you please drop me a comment nor a tag. I really enjoyed chatting with you. We’re both here healing in real time as we figure ourselves out girl! I see you! You and your voice matter here. 🤗💛🩵
65 years old, kicked out of a 33 year marriage without warning, having to re-learn my preferences all over again after making everything a “couple” decision and being the bigger person for years. And of course I was the “good kid” who didnt make waves growing up. Taking all the inspiration I can from you all as i navigate what should be the small to the big decisions of life…what do I want for dinner to do i buy a washer/dryer or a new laptop first? Both are huge for me right now, not to mention navigating family boundaries since i no longer have an ailing husband to care for.
Thank you for sharing Julie! What struck me most was your phrase, “having to re-learn my preferences all over again.” After years of being the good kid, the caregiver, the partner, and the bigger person, it makes sense that choosing for yourself might feel unfamiliar. Not because you don’t know how. Because you’ve spent so much time making room for everyone else’s needs. A washer, dryer, or laptop may seem like small decisions from the outside, but sometimes they’re really practice. Practice asking these 3 things, “What would make my life easier?” Listening to your own answer and choosing yourself without needing permission.
I’ll be here holding space and also rooting for you as you find your way back to your own preferences, one decision at a time. You’re welcome here anytime to share your progress. 💛🤗
I hadn’t thought about it that way, Freddie, and I think you’re onto something. We celebrate looking “mature,” but very few people notice when that maturity was actually self-erasure. The editing people applauded wasn’t always the editing that kept us whole. Thank you for this perspective. 💛🤗
Oof!!! Freddie this one really resonated with me. “The applause was for the performance, not the cost of it” is such a powerful way to say it. Sometimes what people praised in us was the very thing that was quietly wearing us down. Definitely worth noticing now. 🤗💛
I learned to not be a big emotional drama queen and how to be a good little supporting actor. Nice little wall flower. The part that is missing is my own story/perspective doesn’t get told in this type of scenario… I love being a good support beam for my people but even these ole beams came from somewhere and have definitely seen some stuff! 😊
Bea, this is such beautiful language. “A good little supporting actor” and “even these ole beams came from somewhere” really stayed with me. There’s something so tender about realizing you can love supporting your people and still want your own story to be told too. Thank you for adding this to the room. 🤗 💛
Lizzy, I get this so much. “Unabashed curiosity” feels like such a tender thing to miss, especially when you know that part of you was never wrong. Sometimes curiosity gets quiet because too many people made our questions, excitement, noticing, or wonder feel inconvenient. But what I love is that you can name her. This tells me she’s not gone. She’s still close enough to be missed. I hope she keeps finding little ways back to you. 💛🤗
Still digesting this. Also, it's interesting how aging in this lifetime takes you from "old soul" to merely old(er) and boosts your credibility umpteen fold. I can say and do things with acceptance in my 50s that would have been rejected in my 20s (let alone teens, or younger). The ability to observe and to notice has not changed, but my status certainly has. So, I can edit less these days and "get away with" it. The work remains, however, of sorting through and picking up pieces of myself from the cutting room floor.
Thank you for sharing. The part that really stood out to me is what you said about the ability to observe and notice not changing, but your status changing. I feel it’s such an important distinction. I also think many of us were noticing things early, but we were too young, too sensitive, too intense, or too “much” for people to receive it then. Aging didn’t suddenly make the noticing valid. It just made other people more willing to respect it. Girl, this here, the “picking up pieces of myself from the cutting room floor” is such a powerful image. It feels like the work for so many of us now. Not becoming someone new, but finding the parts we had to cut away to be accepted. 💛🤗
I’ll share first: The part that became easier was my needs because I learned not to have them. The part I miss is the version of me that wanted things without apologizing.
What part of yourself became easier to love after you edited it? What do you miss? 🤗💛
The part that became easier to love was my certainty.
Or maybe more accurately, my willingness to disagree.
I learned very early that it was often safer to soften, explain, translate, justify, or make room for everyone else's perspective before fully standing in my own.
Not because I didn't have opinions.
Because having them sometimes came with consequences.
What I miss is the version of me that trusted what she saw without immediately checking whether everyone else agreed.
The version who shared an insight before wondering if it was too much.
The version who desired things without needing to build a case for why they were reasonable.
The beautiful thing is I don't think she's gone.
I think she's been waiting.
And honestly, one of the gifts of this season of life has been finding mirrors that help me recognize her again.
Not mirrors that tell me who to be.
Mirrors that remind me who I already am.
This is so beautiful. “The version who desired things without needing to build a case for why they were reasonable” stopped me for a minute because I think so many of us learn to become lawyers for our own wants before we ever allow ourselves to have them. I also love what you said about certainty. Not certainty as being right but certainty as trusting what you see before checking the room to make sure everyone agrees. This feels like such an important distinction. Btw your last line made me smile. 😊Not mirrors that tell us who to be. Mirrors that remind us who we already are. Thank you for sharing this. I have a feeling a lot of people reading these comments are going to see themselves in your words too. This is why I built the HSP Sanactuary for comments like yours. 💛🤗
I started editing myself at such a young age I didn’t know what the original even was.
Starting at such an early age tells me the editing and the original were happening at the same time. Also there was never a version that got to exist untouched first. I am curious if that's the part that makes it so disorienting now. It's not that the original is gone. It's that you're not sure it was ever allowed to show up. 🤗💛
I think at first I felt like a stranger to myself.
Tbh this makes so much sense to me. If you’ve spent years becoming who everyone else needed you to be, meeting yourself again can feel a little like meeting a stranger at first. I keep coming back to the idea that the original wasn’t lost. She was just hidden under layer after layer of adaptation. Sometimes the first step isn’t figuring out who you are. It’s noticing all the ways you’ve learned not to be. 💛🤗
Same for me. I've been editing myself since a child. I'm not sure who I am?! 🫂
Les, thank you for sharing that. I think a lot of us assume we’re supposed to have a clear answer to “Who am I?” by now. But when you’ve been editing yourself since childhood, it can be hard to separate who you are from who you learned to be. The good news is that uncertainty doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. Sometimes it means you’re finally asking the question honestly. 💛🤗
I learned my role was to be dumb, perky, and pick up the slack for the adults.
Oh! No! Salty! This is such a painful role to have to learn. Dumb enough not to threaten anyone. Perky enough to keep the room comfortable. Responsible enough to pick up what the adults dropped. Girl, that is a lot for a child to carry while still trying to figure out who she actually is. Thank you for naming it. I think a lot of people will recognize some version of themselves in what you just said. I did! 🤗💛
I was the "old soul," like I chose to hang out with the adults...taking care of a drunk mother at age 8 and babysitting my brothers until I was ablebl to escape once I graduated highschool (to attend college). I'm now 52 years old, alone, agoraphobic...and still taking care of my mother, in one way or another.
Thank you for sharing Les! What struck me was the distance between those two ages. Taking care of a drunk mother at 8. While still feeling responsible for her at 52. This is a long time to carry a role that was never meant to belong to a child. I can hear how much you’ve survived, but I can also hear the exhaustion underneath it. Your comment reminded me that leaving isn’t always the same thing as being free. Sometimes our bodies and nervous systems keep carrying responsibilities long after we’ve physically escaped them. I’m really glad you’re here. Thank you for trusting me with this part of your story and sharing it publicly. It’s very brave of you. I see you. 🤗💛
You just made me cry, Sly. You see me and understand me. I'm so grateful for you. 🩵🫂
Les, now you made me even more emotional too. In the best best of ways. I mean it. Thank you for trusting me with your words and your heart here. If this helped you feel seen today, then this essay already did what I hoped it would do. I’m so grateful you’re here. 🫂💛🤗💖
*Sorry for the typo.*
Sly, I feel every one of your pieces to me core. They help me feel less alone in this world. Thank you so much. 🩵
Les, thank you. Comments like yours mean more to me than you know. So many of us have spent years thinking we were the only one. The only one who felt too much, carried too much, or questioned ourselves this much. If these essays help you feel less alone, then every vulnerable thing I’ve shared has been worth it. I’m really glad you’re here and we crossed paths today. You’re welcome back here anytime to hang in the comments if something else speaks to you please drop me a comment nor a tag. I really enjoyed chatting with you. We’re both here healing in real time as we figure ourselves out girl! I see you! You and your voice matter here. 🤗💛🩵
I see you, as well, Sly. 🩵💛
Omg! This means so much to me. Thank you for seeing me too. 🩵💛🤗
65 years old, kicked out of a 33 year marriage without warning, having to re-learn my preferences all over again after making everything a “couple” decision and being the bigger person for years. And of course I was the “good kid” who didnt make waves growing up. Taking all the inspiration I can from you all as i navigate what should be the small to the big decisions of life…what do I want for dinner to do i buy a washer/dryer or a new laptop first? Both are huge for me right now, not to mention navigating family boundaries since i no longer have an ailing husband to care for.
Thank you for sharing Julie! What struck me most was your phrase, “having to re-learn my preferences all over again.” After years of being the good kid, the caregiver, the partner, and the bigger person, it makes sense that choosing for yourself might feel unfamiliar. Not because you don’t know how. Because you’ve spent so much time making room for everyone else’s needs. A washer, dryer, or laptop may seem like small decisions from the outside, but sometimes they’re really practice. Practice asking these 3 things, “What would make my life easier?” Listening to your own answer and choosing yourself without needing permission.
I’ll be here holding space and also rooting for you as you find your way back to your own preferences, one decision at a time. You’re welcome here anytime to share your progress. 💛🤗
Looking mature and quietly disappearing turn out to need the same edits. Only one of them was ever noticed from the outside.
I hadn’t thought about it that way, Freddie, and I think you’re onto something. We celebrate looking “mature,” but very few people notice when that maturity was actually self-erasure. The editing people applauded wasn’t always the editing that kept us whole. Thank you for this perspective. 💛🤗
The applause was for the performance, not the cost of it. Worth noticing now.
Oof!!! Freddie this one really resonated with me. “The applause was for the performance, not the cost of it” is such a powerful way to say it. Sometimes what people praised in us was the very thing that was quietly wearing us down. Definitely worth noticing now. 🤗💛
Definitely worth noticing now. The applause never once asked what it cost to earn.
I learned to not be a big emotional drama queen and how to be a good little supporting actor. Nice little wall flower. The part that is missing is my own story/perspective doesn’t get told in this type of scenario… I love being a good support beam for my people but even these ole beams came from somewhere and have definitely seen some stuff! 😊
Bea, this is such beautiful language. “A good little supporting actor” and “even these ole beams came from somewhere” really stayed with me. There’s something so tender about realizing you can love supporting your people and still want your own story to be told too. Thank you for adding this to the room. 🤗 💛
Also, I miss my unabashed curiosity.
Lizzy, I get this so much. “Unabashed curiosity” feels like such a tender thing to miss, especially when you know that part of you was never wrong. Sometimes curiosity gets quiet because too many people made our questions, excitement, noticing, or wonder feel inconvenient. But what I love is that you can name her. This tells me she’s not gone. She’s still close enough to be missed. I hope she keeps finding little ways back to you. 💛🤗
Still digesting this. Also, it's interesting how aging in this lifetime takes you from "old soul" to merely old(er) and boosts your credibility umpteen fold. I can say and do things with acceptance in my 50s that would have been rejected in my 20s (let alone teens, or younger). The ability to observe and to notice has not changed, but my status certainly has. So, I can edit less these days and "get away with" it. The work remains, however, of sorting through and picking up pieces of myself from the cutting room floor.
Thank you for sharing. The part that really stood out to me is what you said about the ability to observe and notice not changing, but your status changing. I feel it’s such an important distinction. I also think many of us were noticing things early, but we were too young, too sensitive, too intense, or too “much” for people to receive it then. Aging didn’t suddenly make the noticing valid. It just made other people more willing to respect it. Girl, this here, the “picking up pieces of myself from the cutting room floor” is such a powerful image. It feels like the work for so many of us now. Not becoming someone new, but finding the parts we had to cut away to be accepted. 💛🤗
Thank you!!
You’re welcome!🤗💛