Grief is often associated with the loss of someone we love. But what happens when the person we mourn is the one we used to be? The version of ourselves untouched by trauma, heartbreak, or life’s hardest lessons? Mourning who we were before the pain is a unique kind of loss—one that doesn’t receive sympathy cards or shared condolences. Yet, it is just as real, just as heavy.
I often think back to the person I was before the storms hit—the one who laughed easily, trusted effortlessly, and walked through life with a kind of innocence that felt invincible. She didn’t know what she didn’t know. She didn’t carry the weight of sadness in her chest or second-guess the intentions of those she loved. I miss her.
But here’s the paradox: The pain that broke her also shaped who I am today.
The Silent Grief
Mourning who you were can feel isolating because it’s a grief that doesn’t seem to fit neatly into society’s understanding of loss. How do you explain to someone that you’re grieving a past version of yourself? It feels self-indulgent, almost as if you’re saying, “I miss being naive.” But it’s deeper than that. It’s not just innocence you miss—it’s the freedom that came with it.
There’s a strange guilt in this grief. After all, the person you’ve become might be stronger, wiser, and more resilient. Shouldn’t that be enough? And yet, it’s okay to admit that strength came at a cost.
Honoring Who I Was
I’ve learned that mourning my past self isn’t about rejecting the person I’ve become. It’s about honoring the journey. It’s about holding space for the girl who didn’t know pain like I do now—the girl who still believed in happily-ever-afters, who hadn’t yet learned to navigate darkness.
It’s also about showing her compassion. She didn’t fail; she survived. She did the best she could with what she knew. And while she may not exist in the same way anymore, her spirit lives on in me.
Finding Peace in the Loss
Healing isn’t about erasing the scars or pretending the pain didn’t happen. It’s about integrating it into your story and finding ways to move forward. For me, that has meant embracing the complexities of my journey. I am not just the girl I was before the pain or the woman I am after it. I am both. I am all the versions of myself—colliding, evolving, and becoming.
Mourning who I was doesn’t mean I’m stuck in the past. It means I’m human. It means I’m learning to love myself, not in spite of what I’ve endured, but because of it.
So if you find yourself mourning the person you used to be, let yourself grieve. Hold her in your heart, honor her, and thank her for bringing you this far. And when you’re ready, take her hand and step forward together into whatever comes next.
