Hey friends, it's Dora here.
Let's be real, bedtime can feel like a constant battle.
The tantrums, the stalling, the screen fatigue, it's a lot.
That's why we created Wiggle to Wind Down, a brand new kids sleep podcast from Headspace and Cocomelon.
Each episode helps your little one move, breathe and settle into a soothing bedtime story so they can relax and you can finally exhale.
Search for Wiggle to Wind Down wherever you get your podcasts and make bedtime a little easier for everyone.
Hi, it's Dora and you are listening to Radioheadspace.
Have you ever gone through a season of personal growth where you're journaling more, going to therapy, minding your business, drinking your water and yet somehow it feels less like freedom and more like heartbreak?
You're evolving, doing all the right things, but underneath it, there's a strange sense of loss.
Like you're saying goodbye to something you didn't even know you'd miss.
That's the part that no one really talks about when it comes to growth.
Sometimes becoming your fullest self means grieving who you used to be and who others expected you to stay.
We usually think of grief as something tied to endings like a breakup, job loss or someone passing away.
But grief can show up in the beginnings too, especially when we start growing into a new version of ourselves.
Because when you change, even for the better things shift, relationship shift, what you tolerate shifts, how you spend your time, how you show up, even what you laugh at, it all starts to evolve.
And as beautiful as that is, it can also feel lonely.
Because, while you're stepping into alignment, You might also be letting go of people, patterns or places that once felt like home.
There was a time in my life when I had just started going to therapy regularly, really diving deep into my healing.
I was learning how to set real boundaries.
The kind that aren't just about saying no, but are about honoring what I actually needed, instead of trying to keep the peace.
Around that time, I had a close friend who I used to talk to every day.
We'd send voice notes back and forth constantly.
Memes, jokes, venting about work. what we were cooking for dinner, all of it.
There was a real comfort in that connection, like having someone in your back pocket at all times.
But as I started shifting internally, I noticed that our dynamic started to feel a little off.
I was becoming more aware of how much I had been performing, always giving advice, always available, even when I was drained.
So one day I gently said, hey, I love talking to you.
And I also realized I've been needing more quiet lately, just some space to process and recharge.
It wasn't dramatic and I wasn't cutting them off.
I just needed to take care of myself differently.
And that's when the distance began.
The voice notes stopped.
The memes stopped.
Eventually the friendship faded out.
Not with a blowout, just a slow unraveling.
And at first, I felt guilty.
Like maybe I was asking for too much.
Maybe my growth had made me too serious or too distant.
But then I realized I was changing.
And not everyone is going to recognize you in your next chapter, especially if they only knew you from your last.
What I lost was a sense of constant connection, and what I gained was the ability to sit with myself without needing to perform, to rest without explaining, to be in alignment, even if it meant being alone for a little while.
It made room for new relationships, Ones where I could show up as the person I was becoming, not just who I used to be.
So if you find yourself in a season of growth that feels heavier than you expected, here are a few gentle reminders.
Grieve the parts of you you're leaving behind.
It's okay to miss the old you.
They were doing their best and they got you here.
Honor the people who no longer fit.
Letting go doesn't have to come with resentment.
You can hold love and let go.
Let growth include mourning.
Sometimes the sadness isn't a sign you're going backwards.
It's a sign that you're becoming.
Growth isn't just sunshine and self-actualization.
It's often tender, messy, and emotional.
And that's what makes it real.
You're allowed to feel joy and loss in the same breath.
You're allowed to miss who you were while celebrating who you're becoming.
And you're allowed to feel the ache and the alignment.
Because this version of you, they're not here by accident.
They're here because you chose them.
And that is something worth honoring.
Thanks so much for growing alongside with me.
I'll see you tomorrow.
