Shedding Old Skins
- The Fuk'd Up Truth

- 15 hours ago
- 3 min read
When you’re deeply attuned to yourself, it can be jarring to be reminded of previous versions of who you’ve been. You think you must outgrow certain parts of yourself, but instead you begin to realize that what you’re trying to outgrow might actually be essential to who you’re becoming.
Recently, I was triggered by someone who pointed out something I clearly had not fully worked through. I was shocked by how this person reacted to something that had taken me so long to reclaim. At first, I was in awe, but that quickly turned into confusion. I wondered where their reaction was coming from, and then their rhetoric flipped the situation around on me. The mix of emotions left me completely confused and clusterfuk’d. I wanted to talk it out, but it didn’t happen that way. Still, as stubborn as I can be, I wanted to figure out what the trigger was and why I reacted the way I did.
I soon realized that I had been running from, or trying to avoid, an older version of myself – one that was comfortable with discomfort and found normalcy in tension. But I wasn’t at peace with just that conclusion, so I dug deeper. I wanted to understand why and how this discomfort had resurfaced, and how I could stop being so easily triggered by the insecurities or comments of others.
That’s when I realized the person I thought I had outgrown was still within me. This helped me see that our lives move in cycles. We embrace new beginnings by shedding skins (like snakes), by letting go of layers attached to who we used to be. But just like the saying goes, “Don’t forget where you came from,” I think that idea applies here, too.
When we choose to become a different version of ourselves, maybe the path forward isn’t about erasing everything we once were, but about finding peace with it and forgiving ourselves for trying so hard to escape it. We react and do the best we can in any given moment, and later we might wish we had done otherwise. But the ways we responded in those different situations – the ways we found comfort in discomfort – helped us get to where we are now.
I’m not saying you have to cling to your past or let it define you, or become the perpetual victim of your own story. What I am saying is that maybe the work is to learn how to shed your skin gracefully so you can welcome new beginnings more gently. This means facing what you’ve been through, while also knowing you no longer have to live there. It’s about finding peace within yourself – embracing who you’re becoming while acknowledging, even honouring, that older skin you decided to shed as a reminder of how far you’ve come.
People will trigger us. They’ll remind us of what we used to tolerate so effortlessly. They’ll give us chances to revisit old stories and rewrite them in the present. Every day, with each waking moment, we’re given a new opportunity to become more of who we choose to be – by discarding what doesn’t work, embracing what does, and taking time to be with ourselves so we can forgive what we once judged so harshly.
So I ask you: Are you ready to shed your skin, embrace a new beginning, and become one with who you are meant to be? Are you willing to see whatever comes as a chance to grow and learn – to hold yourself with more compassion and love, and to meet yourself differently than you used to, feeling safe and seen (even by yourself)?
Z.
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