I think there are parts of me I have abandoned because nobody was coming to meet me there.
There were things I once cared about so much that I could not imagine becoming someone who had no space for them.
The part of me that could spend hours on an idea. The part that felt everything. The part that made things for no reason. The one who had big dreams, strange thoughts, and hope that did not need proof.
At some point, I stopped feeding those sides of me.
Not because I stopped loving them. I think I just began to believe they were not useful.
Life has a way of teaching us what matters. Being on time. Having a plan. Making money. Being strong. Being the person who can handle things without falling apart.
So I became more practical. More guarded. Better at getting through the day.
And that version of me is not the villain of this story. She has helped me survive a lot. She has kept me going when I did not know what else to do.
But somewhere in the middle of keeping up, I stopped asking what I was leaving behind.
I can remember deadlines, passwords, and what I need from the store. But sometimes I have to stop and think about what I miss.
That is when the grief comes in.
There is sadness, because I miss those old parts of me. There is guilt, because I was the one who stopped making room for them. And there is anger too, because why did I ever feel like my softest, strangest, most hopeful self had to earn a place in my life?
Maybe nobody knew I was waiting to be met there. Maybe I did not know how to show that side of me either.
But I wish I had not taken the silence as a reason to leave.
I do not think those versions of me are gone. I think they have been waiting.
Waiting for me to write something without asking if it is good enough. Waiting for me to care about a dream before I know where it will lead. Waiting for me to be a little more open, a little more myself.
I do not want to go back and become who I was before.
I just want to stop leaving behind the parts that still deserve love.
Maybe healing is not about finding yourself.
Maybe it is about turning back and saying, “I know I stopped asking you to come along. You can come back now.”
And maybe they were never waiting for someone else to meet them there.
Maybe they were waiting for me. I think I am ready to come back too.