Shedding Old Selves: A Love Letter to Change

Lately, I’ve been feeling something that I think many of us are — this deep, unshakeable sense that old beliefs are dissolving, and with them, old versions of ourselves are falling away too. I’ve shed so many versions of "Sarah" over the years, I could probably hold a reunion and still forget someone.

This journey of becoming (again and again) hasn’t always been gentle. Some life events have been cruel, others just plain unfortunate. Some felt destined — like tiny cosmic nudges — and some I never imagined I’d face. And each time, just when I thought I was settled, another layer peeled away. Another mask slipped off. Another part of me — outdated, exhausted, or simply no longer aligned — said goodbye.

We’re all just walking onions really, aren’t we? Complicated, layered, likely to make ourselves cry during a deep introspection. But here’s the question that’s been swirling around my head lately: Did the events shape me into who I am now? Or did this truer version of me sneak through first, and the events unfolded in response — crumbling the life I once knew to make room for her?

Chicken or the egg? Who knows. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But what I do know is this: the crumbling, as uncomfortable and disorienting as it is, is good. Change must be good. Surely it has to be — because we are the architects of our own lives, aren't we?

It’s not just me either. I can feel it everywhere — this collective shedding. People waking up, shaking things off, letting go. And yet with that comes grief too. I recently watched a group I deeply respected and cared for completely fall apart. It shattered not just the group, but also my trust in spirituality, in people, and in love. That one hurt. But pain has a funny way of pushing us straight into truth.

Because what that heartbreak actually did was throw me headfirst into what I now call “Uncomfortablism” — a place where there was nowhere to hide and nothing left to pretend. I had to see things as they were, not as I hoped they’d be. And weirdly, wonderfully... I feel better for it.

There’s no room for fluff or fakery anymore. Just truth. Just presence. Just authenticity.

So if you’re clinging to a career that drains you, a relationship (friendship or otherwise) that no longer fills you with joy, or if you feel like you have to mask who you are just to be accepted — look inward. Listen closely. That discomfort? It’s not punishment. It’s a compass.

Because authenticity is the only way forward. I promise you. I know.

And I’ll keep shedding Sarahs until the end of time if it means getting closer to who I really am. Who's ready to do it with me?