“I didn’t abandon who I was. I honoured her by becoming more.”

There was a version of me that worked very hard to survive.

She stayed agreeable.

She avoided taking up too much space.

She said yes even when she was unsure.

She believed that being capable meant doing everything herself.

For a long time, that version of me kept me safe.

She helped me adapt. She helped me learn quickly. She helped me fit into rooms where I didn’t always feel I belonged.

But eventually, she became too small for the life I was building.

Outgrowing her wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a single decision or turning point. It happened quietly, in moments where what once worked started to feel heavy.

I had to outgrow the version of me who thought struggling alone was strength.

I used to believe that if I could handle everything myself, it meant I was strong. Asking for help felt like failure. Delegating felt like losing control.

What I didn’t realise then was that strength isn’t about endurance. It’s about sustainability.

Learning to trust others didn’t make me weaker. It made everything better.

I had to outgrow the version of me who waited to be invited.

I waited for permission. For validation. For someone to tell me I was ready.

That version of me didn’t lack ambition. She just didn’t yet believe she was allowed to lead without being chosen first.

Growth began when I stopped waiting and started stepping forward anyway.

I had to outgrow the version of me who measured worth through productivity.

Busy felt like proof. Exhaustion felt earned.

Rest, on the other hand, felt undeserved.

It took time to understand that my value was never tied to how much I produced. Slowing down didn’t mean I cared less. It meant I was finally listening to myself.

I had to outgrow the version of me who tried to blend in.

I softened my opinions. I adjusted my tone. I learned how to make myself easier to accept.

That version of me thought fitting in was the goal.

Now I know belonging happens when you stop editing yourself to be palatable.

Outgrowing her doesn’t mean rejecting her.

I’m grateful for that version of me. She did the best she could with what she knew. She carried me through uncertainty, fear, and unfamiliar spaces.

But growth required me to release her, gently.

To stop letting old survival strategies dictate new chapters.

The truth is, we don’t just grow into new versions of ourselves. We also outgrow old ones.

And that’s not loss.

That’s progress.

-EG