19/10/2026
I wonder how much of our healing is learning to grieve the selves we had to become, and the selves we never got the chance to be.
The younger parts of us that adapted. The ones that learned to stay quiet, to be good, to be needed, to make sense of a world they were too young to understand.
They don’t disappear. They live on beneath the lives we build, waiting not to be fixed, but to be met.
Perhaps growing older is not about leaving those versions of ourselves behind, but developing the capacity to turn towards them with the understanding we didn’t yet have.
And perhaps, in that meeting, something long forgotten begins to feel possible again.
~NM