Somebody That I Used to Know

I’ve had the song Somebody That I Used to Know stuck in my head lately. Not because of a breakup. Not because of a friendship ending. Just because it feels true.

People change. Time changes things. Life changes us. Loss changes us. Recovery changes us. Motherhood changes us. Love changes us. If we’re paying attention, we’re supposed to change.

The other day I caught myself thinking, “I’m not the same person I was a year ago.” Then I laughed because I’m definitely not the same person I was five years ago. Or ten.

The woman who got sober at 20 isn’t the same woman raising a toddler at 32. The woman who started with RISE isn’t the same woman writing books. The woman who spent years trying to prove herself isn’t the same woman asking what actually feels aligned. And honestly, thank God.

I titled my book Enough Already because I got tired of following everyone else’s footsteps. I got tired of trying to become who I thought I was supposed to be. I’ve always been ambitious. I’ve always been driven. I get shit done. Always have. Probably always will. But these days, I’m less interested in proving myself and more interested in being myself.

And that’s been uncomfortable.

Not because I don’t know who I am, but because I finally do.

The more certain I become about what matters to me, the harder it becomes to betray myself just to keep everyone else comfortable. That’s a strange thing about growth. Everyone celebrates it until it starts changing things. Oof, yeah read that again. Because I felt it while I was writing it. People will celebrate until it changes relationships. Expectations. Dynamics. The roles we’ve played for years.

The truth is, growth requires letting go. Old beliefs. Old stories. Old identities. Old versions of ourselves. Sometimes even old ways of relating to the people we love. And that can feel like grief. Not because something is ending, but because something is changing.

Since writing my book I’ve been sharing that growth isn’t about becoming someone else. It’s about becoming more of yourself. It’s about peeling back the layers you’ve picked up from other people’s expectations, opinions, and ideas of who you should be. It’s about trusting your own voice enough to follow it, even when it doesn’t make sense to anyone else.

People always say actions speak louder than words. Maybe that’s true. But words cut deeper.

There are sentences I still remember years later. The encouraging ones. The painful ones. The ones that changed the way I saw myself. The ones that made me stop and think. The ones that challenged me. The ones that stayed long after the moment had passed.

Words matter. Especially when they come from people we love. Especially when they come from people whose opinions carry weight. Not because they’re always right, but because they make us reflect. Sometimes they reveal a fear. Sometimes a frustration. Sometimes a wound. Sometimes a truth. Sometimes all of those things at once.

And I think that’s what this season has been for me: reflection.

Not on who I used to be, but on whether I’m making room for who I’m becoming.

I don’t have some perfectly wrapped-up lesson to end this with. I’m still figuring it out. But lately I’ve realized something.

I’m somebody that I used to know.

And instead of feeling sad about that, I think I’m grateful.

The girl who was scared. The woman who fought for her recovery. The leader who carried more than she should have. The mom who’s still learning. The dreamer who keeps believing there’s more. Every version of me served a purpose. Every season taught me something. Every chapter brought me here.

And while I’m learning what the next version of me looks like, I know she’s not going backwards.

That much feels certain.