Unbecoming Looks Like Letting Go of Who They Once Were
The trap of holding onto the beginning
You ever notice how we get addicted to the beginning? That first high. The butterflies. The way he looked at you like you were a gold-dipped unicorn. The texts that came fast. The calls that lasted for hours. The attention that felt like the Universe itself was breathing life into you after a lifetime of suffocating.
And then somewhere along the way—it changes. Subtly, the tone starts to shift. Slowly, the responses are wrapped in delay and irritation. Silence starts to fill the spaces that once bubbled with curiosity. You feel it before you can name it. You start searching for what you did to make the dynamic shift.
So you start adjusting—pouring more, giving more, trying harder—thinking maybe if you just love better, softer, deeper… he’ll come back. You notice your body braces and prepares. For what? The feeling of Russian roulette because you don’t know what version of him will show up in the moment. But what you really desire, is the version from the beginning. The one who seemed so sure. So present. So into you.
But sadly, that beginning?
That was the audition.
The Realization: They Didn’t Change. The Mask Came Off
We like to tell ourselves stories like, “He changed.” But the truth is, he didn’t.
The mask just slipped. It cracked. And sometimes? They wore the mask just long enough to mold us into the caricature of the role they needed us to play.
The beginning was highly curated—an illusion built on who he wanted you to believe he was. Who he may have even deceived himself into thinking he was. The charm. The effort. The grand gestures. That was him reading from a script he’d perfected as a cover for the inner work he keeps avoiding and making the responsibility of everyone else to adjust to.
You were never crazy for falling for it. And often you couldn’t have “picked better” because they pretended to be just that. You were responding to what was carefully presented. You were meeting energy with energy, “truth” with truth.
But the problem is—we keep waiting for the mask to come back on.
We keep holding out hope that the audition version will reappear and finally stay. We keep loving and giving to the potentiality of them while the reality of them robs us.
The Hurt: Being destroyed by who they are now while mourning who they were
This is the heartbreak nobody talks about because truthfully, it’s so hard to name—the grief that comes from loving a ghost that’s still alive. As you pass them in the hallway of your home with a forced smile and baited breath, hoping you will see just a sliver of the man he used to be. Even though it was an act. And when he doesn’t, your heart holds another quiet funeral for the man he once was. You’re being hurt by who they’ve become while still mourning who they used to be.
I used to replay the early days in my mind, like reruns of a show that got canceled without closure. I would look at old text messages and would be completely overwhelmed by the mix of sweetness that I found in those words and the growing bitterness that was palatable.
Not only your mind, but your body, remembers the feeling of euphoria when he used to text good morning, how you would get excited when he’d drive across town just to see you, how he once made you feel like the safest place on earth.
And now? He ghosts for weeks. He doesn’t ask how your day was. He hangs up mid-argument. He watches you cry and does nothing. And you’re left feeling so dazed and confused that it forces you to keep trying to resuscitate something that flatlined months ago.
It’s like feeding money into a slot machine—hoping for the same rush, the same reward when you pull the lever, but the machine isn’t even plugged in to the relationship or an awareness of how it isn’t reciprocating what you’re pouring into it.
The Unbecoming: Releasing the fantasy so you can release the attachment
As women, we are so conditioned to see the potential. Try to build the potential. Excuse the potential when it doesn’t rise to the occasion. And as we are grieving all of this, we’re also expected to subject ourselves to judgment from others that we should have known or picked better.
Unbecoming means facing the truth that the version of him you fell for doesn’t exist anymore—and maybe never did.
You face the heartbreak of letting go of the illusion. The fantasy. The potential that cannot override the actuality.
You stop asking, “What did I do wrong?” and start asking, “What did I ignore?”
You stop trying to fix the broken pieces of the mask and start pouring that energy into yourself.
You realize that love that requires you to shrink, overgive, or chase isn’t love—it’s self-abandonment dressed up as devotion, loyalty and being the good, virtuous woman.
Unbecoming is when you finally stop trying to recreate the fallacy of the beginning and you free yourself from the cycle of disappointment, expectation, and toxic hope.
The Invitation
So Woman on the Rise, be honest with yourself—Who are you holding onto that no longer exists? Who are you grieving?
The man who brought flowers on date two?
The partner who checked in every morning in month three?
The version who said I love you first?
And who’s hurting you now?
The one who disappears.
The one who withholds, gaslights, and stonewalls.
The one who watches your light dim and does nothing to reignite it.
Sometimes the reality is that the one you miss isn’t coming back. Because he never really left. Because he never really was.
You miss the mask.
And the person underneath that mask? That’s who you’re dealing with now. That’s the truth you have to see clearly so you can finally stop fighting for the fantasy.
Remember, it’s not about how a relationship starts—it’s about what they continuously show you once the mask slips. Once it gets real. Once you start mirroring their insecurities and the wounds they haven’t healed.
If you’re in that space of mourning who they once were while trying to accept who they’ve become, this is your sacred invitation to allow yourself to grieve. To give yourself the grace and compassion you handed out so freely to them. To release the illusion so you can return home to yourself.
Unbecoming isn’t about changing yourself so you can get them back.
It’s about getting you back.
So here’s my invitation to you:
If you’re tired of grieving the ghost while being hurt by the reality—if you’re ready to stop mourning the audition and start reclaiming YOUR life—I want to walk with you.
I’m opening The Becoming Framework in late January—a program designed specifically for women in the unbecoming phase. Women who are done performing. Done shrinking. Done chasing masks.
Join the waitlist. Let’s do this together.
