We talk about growth as if it is a pure acquisition. We celebrate the gaining of new skills, new confidence, new strengths, and new successes. We envision ourselves as an empty vessel, and growth is simply the process of pouring more positive traits into it.
This is a childish and dangerously incomplete fantasy.
I’m here to share one of the most important and overlooked truths of a well-lived life. Real growth is not just an addition. It is also a subtraction. To become the person you are meant to be, you must first have the courage to grieve the person you have been.
That old version of yourself, the one who played small to stay safe, the one who avoided risks to avoid failure, the one who chose the comfort of the familiar over the terror of the unknown, has to die. I know how dramatic that sounds. I know how scary that sounds. But growth is not just a birth. It is also a funeral. And until you are willing to hold that funeral, you will remain haunted by the ghost of the person you are trying to leave behind.
A caterpillar does not become a butterfly by sprouting wings. That is not how it works. The caterpillar must seal itself inside a chrysalis and completely, utterly dissolve. It becomes a primordial soup of cells, a biological chaos where every part of its old identity as a crawling creature is annihilated. Its old form, its old way of being, must cease to exist.
Only from that complete disintegration can the new form of the butterfly emerge.
We all want to be the butterfly in our own lives. We want to emerge, transformed and beautiful, and fly away. But we are terrified of briefly being the goo. We are terrified of the part where we must let go of everything we have been, where we must surrender the safety of our old identity and trust in a process we cannot see. You cannot become the butterfly and remain the caterpillar. You must choose.
It is easy to hate the old version of yourself. It is easy to curse the you who was too scared, too timid, too eager to please. But this is a profound mistake.
That old self was not your enemy. It was your protector. It was a brilliant survival strategist that got you this far. The you who played small was the you who protected you from the pain of rejection. The you who avoided risk was the you who shielded you from the shame of failure. The you who was a people pleaser was the you who ensured you were never abandoned.
That self deserves your respect. It deserves your gratitude. And it deserves to be mourned.
If you do not properly grieve this loss, if you just try to discard that old self like a piece of rubbish, it will haunt you. It will linger as self-sabotage. It will whisper as impostor syndrome. It will keep you tethered to the very patterns you are trying to escape, because it feels dishonoured and unacknowledged. Grief is the process of saying, with love and respect, “Thank you for your service. I honour the ways you protected me. But your service is no longer required. I am safe now. You can rest.”
This is not a vague metaphor. This is your work. To truly move forward, you must create a ritual to mark this transition.
Step 1: Write the Eulogy.
Take a piece of paper and write a eulogy for the person you are letting go of. Do not make it a list of their flaws. Make it a real, honest tribute. What was this person like? What were their strengths? And most importantly, how did their behaviours, even the ones you now see as limiting, keep you safe? For example: “Today, we say goodbye to the me who never spoke their mind. They were quiet and observant. By staying silent, they protected me from conflict and criticism for many years. I am grateful for that peace, even as I choose a new path.”
Step 2: Acknowledge What You Will Miss.
Growth is not all gain. What are you truly losing by letting this self go? Be honest. Are you losing the comfort of predictability? Are you losing the safety of being invisible? Are you losing the simple ease that comes from not pushing yourself? Write down what you will genuinely miss about being that person. You cannot grieve a loss you refuse to acknowledge.
Step 3: Perform a Symbolic Act.
Ritual is how human beings mark important passages. You need a physical act to signify your internal decision. Write a thank you letter to your past self and then safely burn it, releasing the ashes. Go through your wardrobe and donate the clothes that belong to the person you no longer are. Perhaps delete an old digital photo that represents an identity you have shed. This is not an act of erasure. It is an act of honouring and closing a chapter.
Do not be afraid of this grief. It is a sacred process. It is the deep, rich soil from which your new life will grow. Nature understands this rhythm perfectly. A tree sheds its leaves to grow again. A snake sheds its skin to expand. You must do the same.
Honour the person you are leaving behind. Thank them. Grieve them. And then let them go. Their funeral is the price of admission to your own rebirth.