Why You’re Allowed to Grieve Your Old Self

I suspect this feeling is something that many of us share. Do you ever have one of those moments when you realize that something you used to do without thinking is just gone. For me, it was walking without a cane at 16 years old, gone. Walking without a walker at 39 years old, gone. Dressing by myself at 44 years old, gone.

"What Does It Say About Me?"

I remember that day when my clothes were on the floor and I just couldn't dress. My body would not allow it. Even before thinking how inconvenient this was becoming, my first thoughts were like a wave of shame. What does it mean about myself that I can't dress anymore? What will they say about me that I can't dress?

And then the fear kicks in: "What if this is not temporary? Oh, all the stuff I won't be able to do anymore... What if this is just my life now?"

I think we taught that grief is only for big one time losses. But it's not. It's also about those small losses that pile up over time and these questions about shame and the fear of the future, they're not a sign that you're weak. They're a sign that you're human and you are allowed to feel this.

Giving yourself permission is the first good step to allow yourself to move forward. It's not about getting over it, it's about moving through it.

When Grief Shows Up Uninvited

The tricky thing about grief is that if you try to sweep it under the rug, it doesn't work. It doesn't disappear. It waits. It gathers strength, and then it jumps on you at the worst possible moment.

You might be having a perfectly fine day and then BAM!, it makes you cry in the cereal aisle because you cannot reach that top shelf.

That's not being dramatic. That's the grief you try to ignore, finally, demanding to be heard. I went through this when needing help to dress. At first, the idea of someone seeing me naked, somebody different every time was so vulnerable and overwhelming. I was exposed and the shame was huge.

I tried to power it through and pretend it wasn't a big deal, but that just made me more anxious and moody. The shift happened when I stopped fighting it, I had to acknowledge the feeling. "Okay, this feels awful. This is embarrassing me." And by actually listening to that feeling instead of shoving it down, something changed in me. It slowly shifted from, "I'm ashamed people are seeing me naked" to, "I'm genuinely happy and grateful that they're there to help me because it spares my energy and then I'm ready to go out in the world and help other people."

And that's the thing: we can get used to absolutely anything in time. Our capacity to adapt is incredible,  but we can only get used to something after we process the grief of what we lost. Avoiding that grief, pretending that you're fine when you're not. That's what's actually holding you back from adapting and getting used to things.

It keeps you stuck in a fight with reality, but there's a balance because listening to grief is one thing and letting it consume you is another one. The goal is not to live in sadness forever. The goal is to honor the feeling so that you can integrate it, integrate the loss, and keep building up your fire, your life.

The Questions Behind the Questions

So how do you stop this cycle? How do you listen to the grief without getting sucked in it? Well, for me, journaling was the key. It's not about writing a perfect essay; it's about getting the messy, ugly, real thoughts out of your head and onto the paper when you can actually look at them.

Take that question: what does it say about me that I cannot dress myself anymore? If you sit with that, what's underneath it? For me, it was this deep seated fear. It says I'm a burden. It says I'm less of a person. It says I've lost my worth. It says half of the stuff I need to do in life are gone. That's the real question.

The surface problem is, "oh, I can't put my underwear and my socks on." But the core fear is about my value as a human being and my hopes for my life. Same with "what if this is not temporary?" That question is rarely about a specific task. It's a mask for a bigger fear: what if I lose the future that I dreamt of? What if I can't travel anymore? What if I can't be the partner or the parent I wanted to be? When you can identify that base fear, you can finally address the actual root cause.

You can't argue with socks, but you can have a conversation with the idea that your worth is tied to your independence. When you solve the core fear, the surface problems, they become so much manageable. If I can reassure myself that my value is not defined by my ability to dress myself, then needing help with socks is just a logistical issue. It's not an existential crisis anymore. It turns grief from this overwhelming trap into a practical tool that was showing me something.

You're not just feeling sad. You are gathering data about what you truly need to help and to heal yourself. Honoring these feelings that's not wallowing. It's a strategic act of self-respect that gives you clarity and you can move forward.

Listen, I know this is hard and grief cycles back around and that's normal, but the one thing I want you to remember is this: listening to your grief, truly honoring that feeling of loss, it's not a setback, it's an act of self-respect. And it's how you build a life that is authentic to who you are now,

I'd love to hear from you. What loss are you currently grieving? It doesn't have to be big Sometimes just saying it out loud or writing it down is the first step. We're in this together and then it gets better. I'll tell you about it in other videos.