RECODE SERIES | CHAPTER 5 The Emotional Cost of Becoming
Your New Life May Require Grieving the Old One
Last month, we talked about making the decision.
Not just deciding what we want, but deciding who we're willing to become to have it.
We talked about letting go of outdated excuses, setting boundaries, releasing attachments, and choosing ourselves even when other people don't understand.
But there's something we need to talk about that doesn't get enough attention.
What happens emotionally AFTER you've made that decision?
Because everybody wants to talk about healing, growth, transformation, and becoming the best version of yourself. Sounds beautiful, doesn't it? But nobody tells you how much that shit can hurt. 😂
Nobody tells you that you might cry over people you willingly walked away from.
That you might miss behaviors you worked so hard to change.
That you might feel lonely after finally establishing healthy boundaries.
Or that the person you're having the hardest time saying goodbye to might be YOU.
The version of you who helped you survive.
The version who kept everybody happy.
The version who fixed everybody's problems.
The version who avoided confrontation because keeping the peace felt safer than speaking up.
The version who needed to be needed.
I know that version.
I WAS THAT PERSON.
And saying goodbye was hard as hell.
When Your Old Identity Doesn't Want to Leave
I was the people-pleaser, the fixer, the strong one, the one who tried to make everything okay for everybody.
And here's what I had to recognize.
That old version of me didn't want to let go.
Because if I wasn't the fixer anymore, who the hell was I?
If I stopped people-pleasing, would people still love me?
If I stopped making everybody else's problems my responsibility, what would that make me? Selfish? Cold? Uncaring?
No.
It would make me responsible for MY life.
And that was uncomfortable.
See, the old version of me actually gave me something.
It gave me a sense of peace or at least that's what I called it.
I didn't like confrontation. So if I could keep everybody happy, avoid the arguments, fix the problems, and make things comfortable, I didn't have to confront anything.
But was that really peace?
Or was it temporary relief from having to deal with uncomfortable emotions?
Sometimes what we call peace is really just the absence of confrontation.
And sometimes we're willing to sacrifice our own needs to maintain it.
Now, I don't hate that old version of myself.
I did what I knew how to do.
Even my ego served a purpose sometimes. It helped me stand my ground when I didn't know another way to protect myself.
But eventually, the same behaviors that helped me survive started preventing me from growing.
And that's when I had to make another decision.
I could keep living through an identity that felt familiar.
Or I could allow myself to become someone I didn't fully know yet.
The unfamiliar can feel terrifying, even when it's healthier.
Grieving Someone Who Is Still Alive
I learned about grief long before I learned about personal development.
I grew up in a big family on the South Side of Milwaukee, in the ghetto, where death was unfortunately a normal part of our lives.
There were years when we attended funeral after funeral. Five or six in a year sometimes. We even had that saying about death coming in threes.
So I learned young that people don't stay forever.
Later, through my early studies of religion, I was introduced to the idea that people come into our lives for a season and that understanding brought me comfort.
Because I began recognizing that a connection doesn't have to last forever to have meaning.
Some people come into our lives to love us.
Some teach us.
Some challenge us.
Some show us what we want.
And some show us what we never want to experience again.
But here's where becoming gets complicated.
What happens when the season changes and nobody has died?
What happens when you still love somebody, but you recognize that you're no longer growing in the same direction?
What happens when you realize the relationship, the expectations, or the role you've always played no longer fits the person you're becoming?
That's grief too.
You can miss someone and still know that the relationship, as it existed, wasn't healthy for you.
You can appreciate the memories and still choose a different future.
And sometimes a relationship doesn't have to end. Sometimes it needs new boundaries, different expectations, or room for both people to grow.
But you cannot force someone to grow with you.
You can invite them. You can encourage them. You can love them. But you cannot make the decision for them.
But What If It's Family?
Now THIS is where it got really uncomfortable for me.
Because family has always been one of my biggest values.
It's one of my five Fs for a reason.
Faith. Family. Finances. Fitness. Fun.
I do so much of what I do because I want better for my family.
I want to create opportunities.
I want to break patterns.
I want to build something that makes a difference for generations.
So imagine recognizing that the more you grow, the more you might have to change your relationships with the very people you're doing it for.
WHEW.
That hurt.
Because in my mind, I wanted everybody to come with me.
But the more I grew, the more I understood that some people might not want to go.
And that doesn't automatically make them bad people.
It doesn't make me better than them.
It means we're making different choices.
Some family members might look at my boundaries and call me selfish.
But I don't see choosing myself as selfish.
I see it as taking responsibility for the life I've been given.
Because I wasn't created to live somebody else's life.
And they weren't created to live mine.
I can love my family without making myself responsible for every decision they make.
And sometimes the most loving thing I can do is show them what choosing yourself looks like.
Not by preaching.
Not by forcing.
But by becoming the example.
Why Does Setting Boundaries Feel So Lonely?
Let's talk about connection.
Human beings need connection.
And sometimes we become so accustomed to a certain type of connection that we stop questioning whether it's healthy.
We get used to the arguing.
The fixing.
The rescuing.
The guilt.
The expectations.
The constant availability.
And when we finally establish a boundary, something strange happens.
We feel lonely.
Now we're questioning ourselves.
Did I do the right thing?
Was I too harsh?
Maybe I should just call them.
Maybe I should go back to how things were.
But sometimes what you're missing isn't the health of the relationship.
You're missing the familiarity of the connection.
There's a difference.
And when you haven't experienced many healthy connections, even an unhealthy one can feel more comfortable than being alone.
That doesn't mean you should isolate yourself.
It means you may need to learn what healthy connection looks and feels like.
Connection where you can say no.
Connection where you can disagree.
Connection where you don't have to earn love by fixing somebody's life.
Connection where you're allowed to grow.
Because choosing yourself shouldn't mean you're sentenced to loneliness.
It means you're making room for relationships where you don't have to abandon yourself to belong.
The Grief of Forgiving Yourself
Now here's a layer I had to sit with.
I had to forgive myself.
Not just for the things other people did to me.
But for the times I abandoned myself.
The times I ignored what I needed.
The times I made serious, life-changing, even life-threatening decisions because I loved someone else more than I loved myself.
I made decisions based on how much I loved the other person instead of how much I loved ME.
And when you finally recognize that?
It hurts.
Because now you're looking back at the person you used to be with the awareness you have today.
And it's easy to start judging yourself.
Why did I allow that?
Why didn't I leave sooner?
Why didn't I speak up?
What the hell was I thinking?
But here's something I've learned.
You cannot judge yesterday's version of yourself using only today's awareness.
That doesn't mean we avoid accountability.
It means we understand the circumstances, beliefs, fears, and tools we had at the time.
Then we take responsibility for what we choose moving forward.
I don't have to hate the person I used to be.
I have to understand that version of me.
I have to give myself grace.
Because without my past, I wouldn't be who I am today.
And without acknowledging what I experienced, I wouldn't understand what needs to change.
You can honor the person you were without continuing the behaviors that hurt you.
What If I'm Not Afraid of Failure? What If I'm Afraid of the Audience?
Now, I could sit here and tell you about all the things I've learned to release.
But guess what?
I'm still doing the damn work myself. 😂
And when I asked myself what I'm still holding on to, my answer surprised me.
The fear of failure.
But when I looked deeper, I realized something.
I'm not actually afraid to fail.
I've failed before.
I've gotten back up.
I've regrouped.
I've learned.
I know how to do that.
But what makes me uncomfortable?
People witnessing me fail.
The people who doubted me.
The people who questioned my vision.
The people who might be waiting to say, "See? I told you so."
If I could fail behind closed doors, dust myself off, and try again without anybody knowing, I'd be fine.
But failing in front of an audience?
WHEW. That's a different emotional experience.
So I asked myself:
If nobody could judge me, nobody could say "I told you so," and nobody knew whether I succeeded or failed, would I still be afraid to pursue my purpose?
My answer was NO.
And here's what's interesting.
I'm pursuing my purpose anyway.
I'm not allowing the fear to stop me.
But every once in a while, that little voice in the back of my mind still asks:
What if you fail?
What if you prove them right?
And now I recognize another layer I need to release.
The need to prove people wrong.
Because if I'm building my future just to silence somebody else's opinion, I'm still allowing them to influence my direction.
And that's not the life I'm choosing.
I want to succeed because I believe in what I'm creating.
Because I believe in my purpose.
Because I believe in the impact I can make.
Not because somebody needs to see me win.
And if I fail publicly?
Then I fail publicly.
I learn.
I regroup.
And I keep going.
My failure isn't proof that somebody else was right about who I am.
It's evidence that I was willing to try.
And THAT is another part of becoming.
Learning to live your life without needing an audience's approval.
Your Emotions May Still Be Attached to the Old You
Remember my Thought Equation?
THOUGHT → EMOTION → ACTION → IDENTITY → REALITY
Now think about what happens when you decide to change your identity, but your emotions are still attached to the old one.
Your thoughts are focused on your future.
You've made the decision.
You've started taking action.
But emotionally?
You're still grieving.
You miss the old connections.
You feel guilty.
You question yourself.
You feel sad about the people who aren't coming along.
And sometimes you want to run right back to what's familiar.
Here's what I want you to understand.
You can feel grief without allowing grief to make your decisions.
You don't have to wait until every emotion disappears before you move forward.
And you don't have to pretend you're happy about every part of growth.
Grief doesn't follow one perfect seven-step process. You may experience denial, anger, sadness, numbness, guilt, relief, acceptance, or several of those feelings at once.
Some days you may feel fantastic.
Other days you may miss the old life.
Neither feeling automatically tells you whether your decision was right or wrong.
That's where discernment comes in.
Look at the facts.
Look at your values.
Look at your safety.
Look at the patterns.
Ask yourself whether the decision still supports the direction you've chosen.
Then allow yourself to feel what you feel without handing your future back to your past.
Your 5F Compass: What Are You Grieving?
Sometimes we think grief only belongs in the area of Family.
But becoming can bring grief into every area of your life.
FAITH: You might grieve beliefs that once brought you comfort but no longer align with what you're learning.
FAMILY: You might grieve old roles, expectations, relationships, or the future you imagined sharing with loved ones.
FINANCES: You might grieve the security of a familiar job, old money habits, or the identity you've carried around struggle and survival.
FITNESS: You might grieve your old relationship with your body, your abilities, your energy, or habits that once helped you cope.
FUN: You might grieve the social life, activities, or version of happiness that used to feel like you.
And here's something important.
Growth in one F can create grief in another.
You might be building financial freedom while grieving the time you used to spend with family.
You might be improving your fitness while grieving old coping habits.
You might be strengthening your faith in yourself while questioning beliefs you've held for years.
That's why I teach the 5F Compass.
Because your life isn't five separate destinations.
It's one life.
And every area influences the others.
The Emotional Cost Doesn't Mean the Decision Was Wrong
I want you to think about something.
What if becoming isn't about killing off the old version of yourself?
What if it's about acknowledging what that version helped you survive, taking the lessons, and releasing what you no longer need?
You don't have to pretend the past didn't happen.
You don't have to erase the people you loved.
You don't have to deny the pain.
You don't even have to stop missing what you left behind.
But you do have to recognize when holding on is costing you the future you've chosen.
And sometimes that means grieving.
Not because you're weak.
Not because you're confused.
Not because you're doing something wrong.
But because something mattered to you.
And now it's changing.
You can grieve the old life and still choose the new one.
Your RECODE Reality Check
We've been on a journey together.
Chapter 1 — Healing Happens in Layers: We learned to recognize what's underneath our triggers.
Chapter 2 — The Leader Beneath the Layers: We learned that leadership starts with ourselves.
Chapter 3 — Definite Purpose: We asked where the hell we're going.
Chapter 4 — Decide Who You're Becoming: We made the decision to stop negotiating with the old version of ourselves.
And now?
Chapter 5 — The Emotional Cost of Becoming.
We're learning that making the decision doesn't mean we won't feel the loss.
And that's okay.
Because I don't want you to walk away from this chapter believing that growth means you have to stop loving people, stop feeling emotions, or become somebody who doesn't care.
I want you to understand that you can love people without carrying their lives.
You can honor your past without living in it.
You can forgive yourself without excusing harmful choices.
You can feel lonely without settling for unhealthy connection.
And you can be afraid of what people might think without allowing their opinions to write your future.
The question I want you to sit with:
What am I still holding on to—not because it's healthy for me today, but because I'm grieving what it once meant to me?
For me, one answer is the fear of people witnessing my failures.
What's yours?
And don't just give me the pretty answer.
Give yourself the REAL one.
Because awareness creates choice.
And choice creates the opportunity to RECODE.
Your 30-Day “Who I'm Becoming” Challenge
Honoring the Old. Choosing the New.
Now, I don't want you reading this blog, nodding your head, saying, "Damn, that was good," and then going right back to doing the same shit tomorrow. 😂
We're going to put some action behind that awareness.
For the next 30 days, I want you to pay attention to the old identities, emotional attachments, and patterns that show up as you move toward your definite purpose.
This isn't about becoming perfect in 30 days.
It's about gathering evidence of who you're becoming.
Grab your journal.
Choose a few minutes each day.
And be honest with yourself.
Days 1–7: Awareness — What Am I Grieving?
Day 1: Who is the old version of me that I'm ready to release?
Day 2: What did that identity protect me from? What did it cost me?
Day 3: What person, role, expectation, or dream am I grieving?
Day 4: Where have I confused familiarity with peace?
Day 5: When do I feel guilty for choosing myself? Whose expectations am I carrying?
Day 6: What do I miss about my old life? Can I acknowledge that without judging myself?
Day 7 — Reality Check: What have I learned about what I'm actually grieving?
Days 8–14: Understanding — Honoring Who I Was
Day 8: Write a thank-you letter to the version of yourself who helped you survive.
Day 9: What behavior once protected me but no longer supports who I'm becoming?
Day 10: What past decision am I still punishing myself for?
Day 11: What would self-forgiveness look like if I also held myself accountable for my future choices?
Day 12: Where have I confused being needed with being loved?
Day 13: What does healthy connection look like when I'm not fixing or rescuing anyone?
Day 14 — Reality Check: What can I appreciate about my past without repeating it?
Days 15–21: Choosing — Making Different Decisions
Day 15: What boundary would support who I'm becoming?
Day 16: Practice that boundary where it's safe to do so. What emotions come up?
Day 17: Whose judgment or approval am I still allowing to influence my decisions?
Day 18: What would I pursue if nobody could say, "I told you so"?
Day 19: Take one action toward that desire. It doesn't have to be big. It has to be real.
Day 20: What healthy connection can I strengthen instead of returning to an unhealthy familiar one?
Day 21 — Reality Check: What did I choose differently this week, even though it felt uncomfortable?
Days 22–28: Becoming — Creating New Evidence
Day 22: Choose one area of your 5F Compass that needs attention: Faith, Family, Finances, Fitness, or Fun.
Day 23: Make one decision in that area that reflects who you're becoming.
Day 24: Catch an old thought or emotional pattern. Practice the RECODE Interrupt: Pause. Name. Choose.
Day 25: Do something meaningful without announcing it or looking for validation.
Day 26: Allow yourself to enjoy something without feeling guilty about the people who aren't participating.
Day 27: Write down three pieces of evidence that you've shown up differently this month.
Day 28 — Reality Check: What feels different? What still needs my attention?
Day 29: The Goodbye Letter
Write a letter to the old version of yourself.
Tell that version of you what you've survived together.
Thank your past self for what they taught you.
Acknowledge what you're grieving.
Forgive yourself for what you didn't know.
Identify the patterns, beliefs, and behaviors you're no longer willing to carry.
And remind yourself that you don't have to erase who you were to become who you're choosing to be.
You get to take the lessons, the wisdom, and the strength with you.
Honor who you were. Release what no longer serves you. Keep becoming.
Day 30: Who I'm Becoming
Return to the question that started this chapter.
What am I still holding on to because I'm grieving what it once meant to me?
Now ask yourself:
What have I begun releasing?
What have I learned about my emotions?
What decision have I made differently?
What evidence do I have that I'm becoming the person I've chosen to be?
What will I continue practicing beyond these 30 days?
Write your own declaration beginning with:
“I am becoming someone who…”
And finish it with actions, not just beautiful words.
Because consistency isn't about doing the same routine perfectly every day.
It's about repeatedly choosing the identity you're building.
Even when you're grieving.
Even when you're uncomfortable.
Even when nobody is cheering.
Even when somebody might be watching you fail.
You still get to choose yourself.
And if you need another 30 days?
TAKE THEM.
This isn't a race.
It's your life.
Honor who you were. Grieve what you need to. And keep becoming.
THIS IS THE RECODE.
This series draws inspiration from personal-development teachings, while sharing my lived experiences and the original RECODE and 5F Compass frameworks.
Laura El
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