She had been driven in her thirties in a way she no longer is. Not from burnout. Not from failure. She had simply decided, somewhere in her early forties, that the version of herself running toward more was not the version she wanted to be.
She chose deliberately. She slowed down deliberately. She built a quieter life on purpose.
It was the right choice. She believes that. And still, sometimes, when she hears about someone doing the thing she used to want to do, she feels something that isn’t quite regret. More like: I wonder.
Choosing peace doesn’t always mean the ambitious part of you goes quietly. For many people, the drive was real. It mattered. The letting go of it is a real loss, even when it was a chosen one. You can decide to put something down and still miss the weight of carrying it.
Both things can be true. The right choice and the grief of the choice.
I’ve let versions of myself go that I still think about. The things I was going to do, the path I was on before I stepped off. They’re not regrets. But they’re not nothing either.
She made the right call. She believes that. She also knows the ambitious version of herself was real and is not entirely gone. She lives somewhere quieter now but she still shows up occasionally in a wonder that is not quite longing and not quite grief.
What does she owe that version of herself?
The self you chose not to become is worth honoring. Not by going back to it. By acknowledging that it was real, that the wanting was legitimate, that the path not taken had real value and real cost to leave behind.
She has a quieter life. It’s what she wanted. She misses her sometimes, the ambitious one. Both things are true. Both are allowed.
Some things worth sitting with:
- Have you let a version of yourself go that you sometimes miss?
- Is there a difference between the right choice and the costless choice?
- What would it mean to honor the path you didn’t take without going back to it?
Something similar runs through He Spent Twenty Years Building Something He Wasn’t Sure He Wanted Anymore., if you want to keep sitting with it.
Inspired by a real story shared anonymously online.