On the process becoming the next version of yourself..
You ever have one of those moments where something clicks?
Like… you stumble across a truth so clear, that you know it’s going to change your life.
Maybe it was the first time you learned what processed food really does to your body—the chemicals, the additives, the way it’s engineered to keep you coming back.
Or maybe it was finally noticing how much screen time is draining your focus and dulling your sense of connection.
Maybe it was something spiritual. A truth that made so much sense in the moment—but somehow, just wouldn’t stick.
And in that moment, you think:
This is it. This changes everything.
You’re ready. You’re all in.
And then… you fall back.
Not because you didn’t mean it.
Not because you’re lazy.
But because the thing you learned—
the thing that felt like your higher self—
was just a little too big to wear right away.
Most of the time, learning (or becoming) something new is like getting a new pair of shoes.
They don’t always fit right away.
🧠 CORE INSIGHT
The knowledge, clarity, or habit that reflects your “higher self” might feel awkward at first.
Not because it’s wrong—but because you haven’t grown into it yet.
We don’t just change because we know better.
We change when we build a life around what we’ve learned—bit by bit.
👟 SECTION ONE: THE SHOES ARE TOO BIG
Sometimes the insight hits before the infrastructure is there.
You read the book.
You hear the truth.
You decide:
"I want to live differently now."
But that new way of being—the mindset, the habit, the identity it requires—just doesn’t fit yet.
You try to walk around in it.
You try to implement it right away.
But it feels clumsy. Unnatural. Tiring.
And it’s not because it’s wrong.
It’s just that you haven’t grown into it yet.
Because the truth is:
That insight is bigger than you are right now.
It’s calling you forward.
It’s a better version of yourself—but one you haven’t fully become yet.
And it’s unrealistic to expect that you can live it out instantly.
You don’t become that person overnight.
The essence of discovering something life-changing is that… it changes your life.
But the way it actually changes your life is through the slow process of becoming someone new.
And just like a pair of shoes that are too big:
It doesn’t matter how many times you lace them up or try to force the fit.
If they don’t fit yet… they just don’t fit.
And that’s okay.
It doesn’t mean you throw them out.
It doesn’t mean the insight is useless.
It just means you might have to grow a little more first.
And when you do—those shoes will be waiting.
👞 SECTION TWO: THE OLD SHOES STILL FIT
Even when they’re beat up…
Even when they’re too tight or worn down…
The old shoes still fit.
They’re broken in.
You know how to move in them.
You know how to style them.
You know which occasions they’re good for.
They’ve taken you this far—and you’ve gotten used to them.
That’s how it is with old habits and identities.
They’re familiar. Predictable. Easy to slip into.
You know how they work. You know what they offer.
You know what to expect.
So even after you glimpse a better version of yourself—
Even after you catch a new insight or try on a new mindset—
It makes sense that you go back to what you know.
Not because it’s better—
But because it’s yours.
And because it still works.
You’ve built memories in those shoes.
You’ve survived in them.
They’ve carried you across seasons, chapters, whole eras of your life.
And just because you can see the next version of yourself on the horizon doesn’t mean you’re ready to walk away from this one.
___
🚙 A STORY ABOUT MY DAD’S TRUCK
My dad had the same truck for over 20 years.
Same truck since I was four or five.
And just last year, he finally got a new one.
Now, when I say “new,” I mean new new.
Shiny. Clean. Runs like a dream.
So I figured, cool—he’ll start driving that every day now.
But what did I see?
That new truck stayed parked in the driveway, under a cover.
And my dad? He kept using the old one. Grocery runs. Work trips. Errands.
At first, it puzzled me.
Like… why wouldn’t you drive the new truck?
But then it clicked.
It’s not that he doesn’t want the new truck.
It’s that the old one still has life left.
There’s still something in it.
There’s history in that truck.
He knows every sound, every creak.
He’s torn it down and built it back up—I don’t know how many times.
That truck carried him through two decades of his life.
To basketball practices.
Football games.
Family road trips.
(I even stole it once—but that’s another story.)
___
The point is:
sometimes we don’t need to switch over immediately.
Sometimes we just want to honor the version of us that got us here.
And sometimes, we just need time to ease into what’s next.
And when the old finally gives out?
We’ll be ready.
The new shoes—the new truck—the new identity—
they’ll be waiting for us.
🥾 SECTION THREE: THE BREAK-IN PERIOD
There’s a weird in-between season—
when the new shoes don’t quite fit,
but the old ones don’t quite work anymore either.
That’s the clunky part.
The awkward middle.
Where the new version of you is close—but not yet automatic.
This is where most people give up.
Not because they don’t care.
Not because they don’t want it.
But because the discomfort of change can be overwhelming.
and it is.
But it’s just part of the process.
___
👖 Let me tell you about my last pair of Jeans:
I’d been wearing the same jeans nearly every day for the past 10 months.
They were my go-to. I could wear them anywhere—around the house, out on a hike, running errands, playing with the kids.
I could stretch in them, sleep in them if I had to. They worked.
But eventually, a hole started forming in... let’s just say, a non-repairable spot.
So I went out to find a replacement.
I ended up getting a pair made from duck canvas.
Way sturdier. Better material. Better fit. More functional in the long run.
But when I first tried them on, they were TIGHT.
Not because they were the wrong size—because they were stiff.
They hadn’t adjusted to me yet.
And so what happened?
I kept switching between the new and the old.
Trying to make the new pair work, then giving up and slipping back into the familiar ones.
Back and forth.
Over and over.
Until one day—after 10 or so wears, a couple washes—they started to loosen.
They started to mold to me.
The stiffness softened in all the right spots.
And they started to fit.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
___
It wasn’t just about breaking them in— I had to learn how to live in them.
With my old jeans, I already had my outfits down.
I knew which shirts went with them, which shoes to pair, which activities they were good for.
With the new pair, I had to figure all of that out from scratch.
Can I walk in them? Can I lounge in them? Can I run after the kids in them?
Can I wear them to the store? To a meeting? To play in the backyard?
I had to practice wearing them.
Practice styling them.
Practice finding out where they belonged in my life.
Even though I knew they looked better, even though they matched more of my closet, even though they were built better…
I still missed the simplicity of the old ones.
The comfort of not having to think so much.
But over time?
They started covering every base the old jeans did—minus yoga (they’re just not yoga pants).
Now they’ve become the go-to.
Not just because they fit my body—
but because they fit my life.
But getting them to fit my life, took time, practice, a little a frustration, and a lot a patience.
👟 SECTION FOUR: ONE DAY, THEY FIT
You keep showing up in them.
And one day… they don’t feel so strange anymore.
The laces fit just right.
The steps get lighter.
The walk feels smoother.
And without even realizing it,
you find yourself becoming the person you caught a glimpse of way back at the start.
That version of you that once felt distant—
too big, too far, too soon—
has quietly become your default.
And just like every version before,
you’ll eventually outgrow this one too.
It’s kind of like that old saying:
🫖 “A watched pot never boils.”
You can’t force transformation.
You can’t rush integration.
You don’t get to know the exact moment it clicks.
It just… happens.
You put the pot on the stove.
You turn on the heat.
And if you stand there watching it, waiting for it to bubble, it’ll feel like it’s taking forever.
But step away—
Go live a little.
Let time do what time does.
And soon enough, you’ll hear the boil.
It’s the same with growth.
With new habits.
With deeper truths and better versions of yourself.
There probably won’t be a big announcement.
No trumpet, no finish line, no headline that says:
“You made it.”
But one day, without even noticing,
you’ll find yourself wearing the new version of you—
and it will fit.
Not because you forced it,
but because you grew into it.
And just like always,
you’ll wear that version for a while…
until it, too, becomes something you eventually outgrow.
📝 JOURNALING PROMPTS
• What’s something new you’ve “tried on” recently that still feels too big?
• Which old habits or ways of thinking are most comfortable for you—even if they no longer serve you?
• Where are you in the process of “breaking in” the new version of yourself?
• What’s one small way you can practice showing up in your new shoes today?
🌱 CLOSING THOUGHT
You don’t have to be fully changed yet.
You just have to keep trying on the shoes.
Respect where you are.
Honor the shoes that got you here.
And keep the next pair in sight—ready for when they fit.