The Version of Me I Had to Grieve to Keep Growing

There was a version of me I had to grieve to grow — the one who gave so much to others, tried to fit into every mold, and still felt completely alone. That version was people-pleasing and exhausted, constantly shaping herself to what others wanted, all in the hope of being approved and feeling seen.

I wanted approval from everyone around me, including my family. I would become what they wanted me to be, even if it meant losing pieces of myself along the way. For the most part, since I grew up used to just her and me, I clung to whatever love or support I could get, even if it wasn’t healthy. Many times, I realized that the care I received was one-sided — people were there for what I offered, not for who I truly was. I thought love meant giving endlessly, even if the bare minimum came back. I constantly questioned why people didn’t show up for me the way I showed up for them.

Being around family, whether from my mom’s side or my dad’s, was exhausting. I felt I had to mold myself into something completely different to “fit in,” to match their way of thinking. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical — it was emotional, spiritual, and constant. I was a chameleon, shifting to hold people close, to feel safe, to belong. But the more I changed, the more I realized I had already lost myself in the process.

The turning point came slowly, quietly, but powerfully. I realized I couldn’t keep being this version of me when I noticed I couldn’t even be open about how I truly felt around people I cared about. I was always there for everyone, yet no one was there for me. I couldn’t speak up because their needs, judgments, and criticisms left no space for my own truth. I felt alone figuring things out, and even when someone might have said, “You could’ve told me,” how could I? There was no room — only their constant needs, expectations, or judgment.

Letting go of that version of me meant grief. I lost friends, family connections, and a sense of what I thought was “normal.” I felt naked, out of place, like the black sheep — el patito feo. My relationships, my sense of belonging, my patterns, everything I thought was stable, fell apart. But in reality, I was only reclaiming myself. I had spent years bending and shrinking to fit into others’ worlds, and it was time to come back to mine.

The hardest part wasn’t the loss itself — it was seeing people continue without me, continuing cycles I was no longer part of. I used to wonder if I was the problem, the one who couldn’t fit in. Maybe I still push people to be the best version of themselves, but now I understand that not everyone is ready for that. Not everyone is ready to meet rawness with rawness, reflection with reflection. And that’s okay.

Now, I love people from afar. I’ve learned to protect my energy, even with family. Their judgments, their criticisms, their traumas — those are not my burden to carry. I no longer have to minimize myself to fit in. I’m finally realizing that I’m not a bad person for wanting genuine connections, people who show up for me the same way I show up for them. Si te caigo bien, chingón; si no, pues a la chingada.

If you’ve ever felt like the black sheep, like you don’t belong in your family or your friend group, I hope this reminds you: you don’t need to stretch yourself into a shape that isn’t yours. Protect your energy, honor your growth, and remember — your worth isn’t measured by how much you give to those who won’t meet you halfway. Grieving that old version of yourself isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. And on the other side of that grief? Freedom, authenticity, and the people who are truly meant to be in your life.

Sometimes the hardest part of growth is realizing you don’t need everyone to stay in your life to feel whole. The people who are meant to be in your life will meet you where you are; the rest are part of your lessons, not your burden. Being the black sheep isn’t a curse — sometimes it’s a sign you’re breaking cycles and carving your own path. Sit with this for a moment: what would it feel like if you stopped performing for the approval of others?