Recently, I was at an event and saw for the first time in a long while, a myriad of people from my past. We were once part of the same community. It was strange, warm, wonderful and bittersweet all at once.
Throughout the event, I found myself having multiple conversations with people who told me that the community wasn’t what it used to be. That it didn’t feel the same. I sensed something quiet beneath their words—a tinge of disappointment. Maybe even grief.
And I understood.
Because I’ve felt that too.
This post is for the moments when you realise something once meaningful has shifted. Maybe for good. Maybe in ways that seem meaningless. And now you’re left holding the ache of what used to be, with no clear path for what’s next.
The Peace in Naming What’s No Longer True
I’ve come to learn that naming what’s real although it may be painful is the perfect place to start. This is not being critical or negative or nostalgic or disloyal. This is simply being truthful.
Without truth there can be no forward motion. Honesty creates space, for grief, for healing, for whatever’s meant to grow next.
There’s something sacred in being able to say, “I miss how it used to feel.” “This meant something to me.” “It’s changed, and that matters.”
Of course it’s changed. That’s what growth looks like.
But is it growth? Or is it something else? Either way, something is happening.
Maybe it’s a pulling back before a great propelling forward.
Maybe it’s a breaking down to make room for a rebuilding.
Maybe it’s a gentle pause, a treading of water, waiting for the next wave. Or maybe it’s a season that simply emphasises what needs to change.
What You’re Really Missing Might Still Be Reachable
Sometimes what we ache for isn’t the old place or the ways themselves, but what we felt when we were there.
Maybe it was belonging. Maybe it was purpose. Maybe it was feeling like you were known and needed.
If you look closely, the core of what you miss might still be possible, just in new forms, new spaces, with new people. It won’t be the same, but it might still be meaningful.
That longing isn’t something to suppress. It’s something to get curious about.
Stay. Leave. Grieve. Grow.
There’s no rulebook for what to do when something you loved changes. But ther are some helpful questions to consider.
Are you staying because it’s still feeding you?
Or are you staying because you’re scared to let go?
Are you staying in hope that someone might magically transform things back to how they used to be or are you staying because you don’t know where else to go?
Sometimes the bravest thing is to bless what was, without needing to recreate it. To say: That was good. That mattered. And now I’m allowed to want something more aligned with who I am now. You can carry the beauty of the past without forcing it to be your present.
What in your life is not the same?
A relationship?
A place?
An organisation?
A belief you once held close?
Here are a few journaling prompts to help you navigate it.
What part of “how it used to be” do I miss most, and why?
What have I outgrown, and what am I still holding onto out of habit or fear?
Where might the essence of what I’m longing for be found now?
Grief over change is real.
So is the quiet invitation hidden inside it: To honour what was, and make space for what’s next.
