Your new life is going to cost you your old one*

* Quote by Brianna Wiest from "The Mountain is You"

This is the second essay of my December series Transformation.

Words have always saved me. In my loneliest, most desperate moments, I have clung to quotes, phrases, or the nice thing someone told me like a life raft, repeating it as a mantra to get me through the day. And this year’s mantra are these words by the incomparable Brianna Wiest: “your new life is going to cost you your old one”. Here is the full quote from her excellent book The Mountain is You:

“Your new life is going to cost you your old one.
It’s going to cost you your comfort zone and your sense
of direction.
It’s going to cost you relationships and friends.
It’s going to cost you being liked and understood.
It doesn’t matter.
The people who are meant for you are going to meet you
on the other side. You’re going to build a new comfort
zone around the things that actually move you forward.
Instead of being liked, you’re going to be loved. Instead of
being understood, you’re going to be seen.
All you’re going to lose is what was built for a person you
no longer are.”

Brianna Wiest, The Mountain is You

I relate hard to this right now. I’m in a state of healing and transformation, and in that process all the things Brianna mentions have happened: friendships have petered out, relationships have changed, my sense of who I am and where I’m going are transforming. The thing about growing from one life into another is that the transition isn’t seamless. You’re not simply exchanging one set of friends for a new one; there is a period of loss in between, an emptiness that needs to be felt.

I’ve been craving solitude more than usual this year. I need space, quiet, and alone-time to work through those massive internal changes. For so much of my life, I simply let life happen: I just followed what everybody around me did, going along with what is expected or considered “normal”. However, passively going along with the status quo isn’t really my nature, and sometimes my rebellious side would come out and I’d do what felt right to me. But the other, bigger part of me wanted to fit in, creating a tension within myself that was extremely uncomfortable. I would swing wildly between feeling proud and defensive, wanting approval for my unconventional choices and being angry and hurt if I didn’t get it. In short: I wasn’t authentically myself, because I couldn’t fully stand behind my choices.

I think most of us are trying to fit in, because we all need belonging. So we do our best to mold ourselves into someone we think we ought to be, imitating what we see around us. But that kind of fitting in will make you feel desperately lonely. You can be in a room full of people you changed yourself for, and feel like the loneliest person in the world, because not only do you not truly belong to these people, you also don’t belong to yourself.

To belong to yourself, you have to get to know yourself properly. Not the version you became because you tried to be who the world told you to be; but the true, authentic, you.

In my experience, the only way to do that is by spending more time alone. Get away from the noise and distractions. Find out what makes you happy. If you don’t know what that is yet, try different things and see how they make you feel. Doing them alone might feel uncomfortable; but you grow from that discomfort. And the more you lean into that discomfort, the smaller it gets. The best part? Once you find yourself, your people will find you.

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I grew up in a family where feelings were not talked about, fears and doubts were dismissed, and where nothing was supposed to be shared with “outsiders” (=anyone who wasn’t immediate family). As a result, I didn’t know that I had depression and PMDD, and believed instead that something was wrong with me. If you’re being called selfish, difficult, and ungrateful by those who are supposed to love you unconditionally, you will believe them, and as a consequence I could barely stand myself. I avoided time alone with my thoughts at all costs, because I couldn’t bear their cruelty.

In my thirties, I started a blog. I didn’t know it then, but it was the first step in my journey of overcoming my self-hatred and finding myself. (It’s still live here, in case you’re interested.) For the next ten years I went the other extreme, going from not telling strangers anything about myself to baring it all. Doing so helped me discover that we are much more alike than we think we are; we all have similar fears, dreams, needs, and desires. Also, I learnt that shame can’t survive in the light, and the more I released it into the world, the less it hurt me. By sharing some of my deepest, most vulnerable secrets, I’ve been able to overcome them. It’s like a magic trick: the more you talk about them, the less they can hurt you.

I’m still in the midst of trading my old life for my new one. I’m in the messy middle part: the one that can feel overwhelming, scary, and lonely. But I’ve come too far and know too much to turn away now. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go back; once you know how good life can be, you can’t unknow it. And for me, my new life includes all the things I was too scared to go for in my old one:

• true soul-connection

• spirituality (=connection to something greater than myself)

• belonging (to myself and others)

• using my voice and speaking my truth

• standing up for what I believe in

Transformation isn’t easy. But living a life that isn’t true to yourself is infinitely harder. I’m getting closer to who I truly am with each passing day—and I love how it feels.
Yes, that’s it: I’m exchanging a life that looks good to one that feels good.

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I wanted to let you know that the FabOver40 contest ended for me last week in 13th place in the quarter finals.

Thank you to everybody who voted for me, some of you dozens of times! It was a fun experience!