By Dina Aldabbagh

When you compare yourself against the version of you that you want to be, it’s so easy to start rolling the self-hate ball. It’s the easiest thing in the world to self-criticize and berate yourself for not being further along. But that harshness is misinformed. You’re hating on this version of yourself that’s currently in the place of life that you don’t like, but this is the exact version of you that makes the changes that take you to the next version of yourself. So stop hating on this current version, they’re the one who’s about to change your life. 

The mere fact that this version of you is displeased with your current standing signifies that change is afoot. We don’t change things we like — we continue them, develop them. But change is something else. Change is looking at reality and doing something different. Change is looking at your habits, your thoughts, your relationships, your temperament, your perspective, your values, your obligations — and doing something else. Rerouting. U-turning. Maybe just pivoting ever so slightly. 

I once heard someone on some TV show or another years ago perspectivize a bad morning as such, “Well, it’s only up from here.” That is to say, “The worst has happened. It can only get better now.” I think of rock bottom like that. If you’ve ever hit your own personal rock bottom, and come out on the other side, you know: “Change had to happen.” Something needed to break and be put back together, in a different way, because the current way things were going were not it. Although life’s rock bottoms never feel good and aren’t the preferable experience, they do something to a person: they catalyze them. I remember my own rock bottom moment years ago — nothing was working, what used to serve me no longer did, and I couldn’t figure out how to continue down that road and live a life I liked. So I did what anyone who is fed up and lost would do: I scrapped it all. 

Every single thing I thought I cared about — that I thought had to matter so much to me — I changed if it was no longer making me feel good. And rock bottom was in a way a beautiful thing because it taught me that none of it was working. So I was able to reconstruct completely. Fundamentally, I stayed me. My principles, morals, and baseline personality did not change. What changed was the way I thought I had to go through life. The way I thought I “should.”

Well, rock bottoms do something to a person: they make you stop caring about the “shoulds.” They make you let go of whatever contract you have to caring about things that aren’t helping you, because you get to the point that the only thing that matters is relief. 

When something is no longer working for you, the normal response is to hold onto what worked in the last season of your life and try to continue, thinking you may have just gotten a couple bad breaks. In a way, it’s a bit of a denial — and it’s completely normal. If something used to work for you, even if it hasn’t as of late, you’re still going to keep trying to be consistent there. Well, it gets to a point that you’re so fed up because what used to work, just doesn’t anymore. There’s no denying it at some point. It’s not working. This is the moment of change. You release your commitment to the old way of doing things — the old way of being you — and you allow yourself to become whatever version is just going to make you feel better. 

The act can only go on for so long. You can only continue down a road for so long that is draining you and always resulting in you feeling bad before you just stop caring — before you let go of that sense of obligation to keep being the old you. And this is when the alchemy occurs. When you are so exhausted from the performance of what used to work without feeling fed in return — without feeling peace — then your priority no longer remains to be a certain way, the “should” you imposed on yourself, but instead it shifts to finally feeling peace again. At this point, you are willing: willing to do whatever it takes to feel better.

And that is the version of you who does it. The one who is tired, hurt, unsettled — they are who conjures up enough strength to become something different. Change is much more effort than continuity — and while you may want to look at a past version of yourself as cringey, they actually deserve your respect. They got you here. So don’t be too hard on yourself, this is the version of you who gets it together. Not the version of you who has it, but the one who gets it together. Arguably they are the strongest version of yourself, creating momentum through sheer will, with no past evidence. 

You may not be where you want to be yet, but understand that who you are today is exactly who is getting you there. The version of you who is fed up, who is exhausted, who is hurt, they are who decides to put in the work to become something else. And all that time you’re spending judging yourself for not being further along is time you’re spending hating the exact person who is going to help you. 

“Why aren’t you this? Why aren’t you that? Why aren’t you more…? Why don’t you know how to…? Why can’t you just…?” Why are you being so mean to the one person who’s got your back? 

When someone loses weight, they often look back and speak negatively about their past self. But…that’s the version of them who lost the weight. That’s the version of them who was strong enough to stick to their diet even when they wanted something else, who put in the effort to count their calories, who went to bed hungry some nights to stick to their plan. Who they are today is the version who is already lean. When a man with a lot of muscle looks at his skinner, younger self, he often speaks on how weak he was. But…that’s the version of him who went to the gym five times a week and built the muscle. That’s the version who felt sore daily, who weighed his food and ensured he was getting proper protein, who stood in a room of men much bigger than him and felt the foolishness of being a visible beginner. Who he is today is the manifestation of the work that skinny version put in. So in that way, he is not who he is today because of who he is today — he is who he is today because of who he was before. He owes his present self to his past self. That’s the version of him who committed, who labored, who felt the doubt and embarrassment and kept going anyways.

Feeling foolish is the hallmark of growth, you never feel like a fool doing what you already know how to do. You only feel like a fool when you feel visibly out of your depth. So that doubt you feel right now? Those feelings of embarrassment for who you currently are? That’s the sign that you’re already growing. You don’t feel like a fool when you already feel in perfect place, only when you’re sensing the gap between where you are and where you know you’re meant to be. 

My ask of you is to just give yourself some grace. You’re not an idiot, you’re in the process. You’re not behind, you’re moving forward. You’re not cringey or embarrassing, you’re the exact version of you who is strong — strong enough to push forward for change, even without any evidence that you can do it. You’re not lost, you’re just in the gap. You just haven’t landed yet into what you’ll be next. But this version of you deserves the love and respect that you think you can finally give yourself when you become who you are becoming — because this is the version of you who did it. 

The version of you who you are becoming is the one who lands, but who you are today is the one who jumps — and jumping is sure as heck a lot scarier than landing. Give them their due grace and respect. 

You may hate that you are not already who you want to be, but for the moment, would you take being the person who becomes?