Over the last few months, while working towards launching my coaching business, one topic kept coming up again and again: the grief of losing who you once were.
For many people, being diagnosed with a chronic condition can feel exactly like that. Like you’ve lost your healthy self.
You’ve lost your strength and some of the trust you had in yourself. And you desperately want it all back. All of it. The “yes” to everything, the “sure, I can do it”, the “sure, I’ll be there”. The invincibility you once thought you had.
You’re grieving the life you wanted and thought you’d have, whilst at the same time learning to live the one you have now.
It’s not easy.
And then the unhelpful thoughts start appearing.
Why am I so tired? Why do I need so much rest? Everyone else seems to manage.
I’ll be OK when… my pain disappears. When I have more energy. When I’m less stressed. When I feel like myself again.
We can spend so much time waiting for “when”. And without realising it, life becomes something that’s going to begin later.
I know, because I did it.
I wasn’t well, but I was expecting myself to be well. I was putting so much pressure on myself to get back to the person I had been.
Eventually, I began to realise that perhaps I didn’t need to fight quite so hard to get her back.
Perhaps I needed to start listening to the person I was now. To accept.
And that’s when another part of the journey began.
Not an easy one. Not a straight one. And definitely not one where I suddenly discovered all the answers.
I tried things. Some worked. Some didn’t.
Some worked for a while and then didn’t. Sometimes I felt better, did too much and had to remind myself—again—that feeling better didn’t mean I suddenly had unlimited energy.
I read. I researched. I learnt about my body and my mind. I changed habits, routines and expectations. I learnt to slow down, which, as I’ve written before, was probably one of the hardest things for me to do.
There were good days when I thought, I’ve got this.
And there were bad days when I thought, No, apparently, I haven’t.
That part was frustrating, but I wasn’t going to stop trying.
Acceptance doesn’t mean agreement. I said this before too.
It doesn’t mean giving up or deciding that nothing can change. For me, it meant beginning with where I actually was instead of constantly measuring myself against where I thought I should be.
From there, I could still move forward.
I could experiment. Learn. Make changes. Ask for help. Rest. Try again.
But I also had to learn that a bad day was sometimes just that—a bad day.
It didn’t erase all the progress I’d made. It didn’t mean something had stopped working. It didn’t mean I’d failed and needed to start again from the beginning.
Sometimes I needed to change something and sometimes I needed to be patient.
And learning the difference took time.
I think that’s where determination became something different for me too.
It wasn’t about pushing harder anymore. It was about staying curious enough to keep looking for what helped, being brave enough to change what didn’t, and being patient enough to give myself time.
And somewhere amongst all that trying, learning, frustration and patience, something else happened.
I changed. But I am still me.
I still have many of the same qualities, flaws, dreams, interests and slightly ridiculous expectations of how much I can fit into one day.
But I’m different. I’m calmer. I’m kinder to myself.
And I think I’m wiser.
Not because I suddenly have all the answers. If anything, I think wisdom has come from accepting that I never will.
I know myself better now. I notice when I’m doing too much. I understand what helps me feel well and what doesn’t. I listen to my body more closely. And when I forget to listen—as I sometimes do—I try not to turn that into another reason to criticise myself.
I simply listen again.
I haven’t become a “new me”. I don’t particularly want to.
The person I was before is still part of me. She got me here.
But life changed, circumstances changed, and I changed with them.
There are things I wish I hadn’t had to learn. There are things I would happily have lived my whole life without experiencing. I don’t believe we have to be grateful for every difficult thing that happens to us or turn every struggle into a gift.
But I can acknowledge what I’ve learnt along the way.
I’ve learnt that rest isn’t weakness. That asking for help isn’t failure. That my body isn’t something I need to battle with. That feeling well doesn’t have to wait until everything is perfect.
And perhaps most importantly, I’ve learnt that I can want things to improve whilst still being kind to the person I am today.
Maybe that’s what I wish I could tell the version of me who was so desperately trying to get her old self back.
Keep learning. Keep trying. Keep looking for what helps you. Gently.
Let people walk alongside you when you need them.
But don’t put your life on hold while you do it.
And on the bad days, be gentle with yourself.
You’re still you.
You’re learning.
You’re changing.
And perhaps, little by little, you’re becoming a little wiser too.