The first time someone offered to bring me dinner, I said, “Oh, no thank you, I’ve got it.”
I said it with a smile, and I meant it. For most of my life, I was the one who had it. I was the helper, the doer, the person who didn’t need much from anyone. I was proud of that, and for reasons that would take far more than a blog post to untangle, it felt safe.
Then life handed me a couple of stays in the hospital, and a recovery that required more rest than I had ever allowed myself. Suddenly, “I’ve got it” wasn’t true anymore.
The old identities stopped fitting
I didn’t realize how many identities I was carrying until they all went quiet at once.
The self-sufficient one. I had to learn to say yes to help, and not just once. Over and over, with no apology attached.
The athlete. Movement had always been part of who I was. When I couldn’t exercise, I wasn’t just missing a workout. I was missing my own reflection.
The one who is always doing something. This one surprised me most. Slowing down, with no project and nothing to check off, felt strange. I didn’t know who I was when I wasn’t being productive.
Maybe you know this feeling. It might not be surgery for you. It might be a divorce, a move, a parent who has passed, kids leaving home, a career that ended, or a change in your body or your health. Different events, same quiet question underneath: If I’m not who I used to be, then who am I now?
Getting to know yourself is a practice
Here’s what I learned, and what I now bring to my work with clients: meeting yourself again isn’t something that just happens to you. It’s something you can practice. For me, hypnosis, tapping, and coaching gave me ways to try on who I was becoming, not just think about it. Slowing down became less scary. Asking for help stopped feeling like failure.
But before any of that, there was a first step I almost skipped: getting to know the old me.
When everything shifts, it’s tempting to leap straight toward the next version of yourself. I’ve learned to slow that down. You can’t really step into new territory until you understand where you’re coming from. The old identities weren’t mistakes. They were doing important work for you, and they deserve to be seen clearly before you decide what to carry forward and what to set down.
Where to start: write about the old you
Grab a notebook and begin with this sentence:
“I always used to be the one who…”
Then keep writing. Let it be messy. Here are a few questions to explore if you get stuck:
- What did this part of me protect or make possible?
- What am I proud of?
- What do I miss?
- Where did this identity come from?
This stage matters more than it looks. Journaling and exploring your past self is the foundation for everything that follows, because the more clearly you understand who you’ve been, the more freely you can choose who you’re becoming.
And when you’ve given that old identity its due, you can get curious about what comes next: What do I want to try on this week? Keep it small and gentle.
Roots grow in the dark
I often think about the pepper tree in my backyard. It has weathered storms, dropped branches, and kept growing. What looks like loss above ground is often just the tree redirecting its strength toward the roots.
If something unexpected has shaken you, you’re not behind and you’re not broken. You may simply be growing deeper.
If you’d like company while you figure out who you are now, I’d love to talk. Book a free 20-minute call, and we’ll start wherever you are.
