The Grief of Releasing an Old Identity

Releasing your old identity is one of the deepest griefs you will experience in your life.

Healing is an inner journey that is personal and unique to each and every one of us, and there comes a point on that journey where you are asked to release your old identity. The identity that was built on survival. The one that learned how to endure, adapt, stay safe, and keep going.

When this moment arrives, it is not gentle. It is not intellectual. It is not something you can think your way through. It is an experience unlike anything you have ever felt before. It’s a grief that moves through your chest, aches in your heart, and touches the deepest parts of your being.

My experience of this was painful, profound, and consuming. The depth I felt in releasing her was unlike anything I had ever known. It was not just grief — it was deep recognition. Recognition for everything she had carried, everything she had survived, and everything she had held together so that I could still be here.

I had to choose to let her go. And that choice was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Because she had carried me through 46 years of my life. She had been with me through everything. Every loss. Every challenge. Every moment I did not think I would make it through. She was all I had ever known.

The moment itself came during a powerful transition. I remember it so clearly. My guide, the one who had been with me my whole life — came and took her. And in that moment, she showed me that it was time. That it was safe to let her go. That her work was complete.

And yet, even with that knowing, the pain was immense. It is something I still cannot fully put into words. Because when you release an identity, you are not just letting go of who you were — you are grieving the version of yourself who kept you alive.

So when someone tells you to “just change your identity,” please know this…
It is not something you simply decide. It is not something you bypass or rush. Releasing an identity is a process — one that must be honoured, felt, and allowed to unfold in its own time.