Lately, I’ve found myself grieving a version of me that used to exist.

Not the teenage version of me before Crohn’s disease or before my surgeries, although I’ve grieved her too over the years. This time it feels different. Lately, I’ve been grieving the version of me before menopause and before migraines became such a major part of my life.

It’s strange how life can slowly change you without you even realizing it at first. Then one day you wake up and think, When did I become this exhausted? When did my body start feeling like it was constantly fighting against me instead of working with me?

The fatigue has been one of the hardest parts lately. Not just “I need a nap” tired, but the kind of exhaustion that sits deep in your body. The kind where even after resting, you still don’t feel rested. Add in the hot flashes, migraines, chronic pain, and hormonal changes, and honestly, there are days I barely feel like myself anymore.

One of the hardest things for me to talk about openly is how much these changes can affect intimacy and the way you see yourself as a woman. I absolutely love my husband, and I’m still very attracted to him. That has never changed. But menopause has changed parts of me I wasn’t prepared for. The lack of desire at times feels frustrating and honestly unfair. It makes me angry sometimes because it doesn’t reflect how I feel in my heart.

I think that’s one of the loneliest parts of this stage of life. Your mind and your heart can feel one way while your body feels completely disconnected.

And then there’s the comparison that quietly creeps in.

I look around at other women my age and sometimes it seems like they’re thriving while I’m over here trying to simply keep up with my own body. Some days I find myself wondering, Is menopause really this hard for everyone? Or does it feel more intense because my body has already spent decades fighting Crohn’s disease, surgeries, chronic pain, migraines, hormone changes, and everything else it has endured over the years?

I honestly don’t know the answer to that.

What I do know is that grieving old versions of yourself is something many people experience, but very few people talk about openly. I think we often feel guilty admitting it because we know we should be thankful for where we are now. We tell ourselves we shouldn’t dwell on what we’ve lost. So instead, we quietly carry that grief alone.

But grief doesn’t only happen when you lose another person. Sometimes grief shows up when you realize you miss the person you used to be.

The version of you that had more energy.
The version of you that felt more carefree.
The version of you that felt more confident in your own body.
The version of you that didn’t have to think so hard about simply feeling okay.

And I think it’s important to say this out loud: it’s okay to grieve that person.

It’s okay to acknowledge the loss without shame.

But I also think it’s important not to stay there forever.

Because if we’re not careful, we can spend so much time mourning who we used to be that we completely miss the value and beauty in who we still are right now.

That’s the part I’m still learning.

I may not be the younger version of myself anymore. My body has changed. My energy has changed. Certain parts of life feel harder than they used to. But that does not mean I am less valuable, less lovable, or less beautiful than I was before.

It just means life has changed me.

And honestly, after everything my body has endured over the years, maybe I need to stop expecting myself to function like someone who hasn’t spent decades fighting to survive.

Maybe grace is more important right now than comparison.

Maybe learning to love ourselves in the version we are today matters more than constantly grieving who we used to be.

I think there’s a balance to all of this. We can acknowledge the grief honestly while still choosing not to live in it permanently. We can miss parts of ourselves while also making peace with the woman we are becoming.

And maybe that’s what healing looks like sometimes.

Not becoming who you once were again, but learning how to love yourself exactly where you are now.