Losing Yourself, and Finding a New Version
There is something strange about having to start your life over as an adult. Not because you’ve moved, changed jobs, or chosen a new direction – but because your body and your life suddenly won’t let you be the person you used to be.
I’ve always been someone who liked staying active. Someone who enjoyed being involved, helping out, getting things done. It felt natural to put in a little extra, to take part in a lot, and to have several projects going at the same time.
I was also the one with a thousand ideas in my head, creative solutions to whatever problems showed up, and a restless energy that kept me moving toward something new.
I didn’t always have endless energy – but I had a strong inner drive that carried me forward.
And then, one day, after illness and complications, I stood there without the parts of myself that had defined me for so long.
Losing the Old Version of Yourself
It wasn’t just the energy that disappeared. It was so much more.
I lost confidence in my own capacity. I lost the ability to keep up with the pace I was used to. I lost parts of my identity.
And it hurt more than I imagined. Because what happens when the things you built so much of yourself on – the activity, the drive, the ability to push through – are no longer there?
Who are you then?
I Had to Grieve the Person I Used to Be
This might be the most vulnerable sentence I can write: I had to grieve the person I was, in order to find the person I am now.
I had to accept that my life may never be the same again. That my body no longer wants what my mind still wants. That I can’t compare myself to the version of me that existed before.
And that grief was real. It came in waves. In quiet moments. In anger, frustration, and exhaustion.
But in that grief, slowly and gently, something new began to grow.
Finding a New Way to Be Myself
Life doesn’t stop just because the body does. Time keeps moving, and eventually, I had to move with it.
I started quietly:
- Listening instead of pushing
- Accepting the limits of each day
- Finding joy in calm, not just in speed
- Appreciating the energy I did have
- Feeling achievement in small steps
- Taking things back at my own pace
I discovered that even though I’m not the old version of myself, it doesn’t mean I’m a worse version.
I’m simply a different one.
When Identity Has to Be Rebuilt
The hardest part of starting over as an adult isn’t the illness itself – it’s everything it takes with it:
- The pace
- The strength
- The memories
- The concentration
- The hearing
- The sense of calm
- The physical power
My identity had to be rebuilt. Stone by stone. Foundation before facade.
I had to ask myself:
What am I worth without my achievements? Who am I when I can no longer do everything I used to? How do I build a life that fits the body I have now – not the body I had before?
The New Life Doesn’t Arrive All at Once
It doesn’t come with big steps. It comes in small, quiet moments:
- A day with a little more calm.
- A conversation where the brain fog didn’t take over.
- A walk in nature that gave more than it took.
- A moment with my family where I was truly present.
This is the new life. Slower, softer, more vulnerable – but also more real.
Becoming a New Version of Yourself
Yes, I would love to have my old body back, the old capacity, the old life. But here I am — in what is mine now.
And I’ve started to see something I didn’t see before:
This version of me is also valuable. Also brave. Also enough.
He has less physical strength, but he feels more deeply.
He learns more slowly, but he understands more clearly.
He walks more slowly, but he keeps moving forward.
Because the road is made as I walk it. Step by step. Day by day.
And my path is far from fully carved. I am in the middle of the process – in the middle of learning, in the middle of rebuilding, in the middle of figuring out who I am becoming now.
The destination is somewhere ahead, but the speed doesn’t matter – only that I keep taking the steps.
And maybe – just maybe – that is a kind of strength too.
💭 “Small steps are still progress – even when no one else sees them.”
✨ “Not every day has to be good – but there is something good in every day.”
Legg att eit svar