Permission To Change

Have you ever felt like you’ve outgrown a version of yourself that other people still expect you to be?

I’m Joseph the psychotherapist, the father, the friend, the husband-to-be....

These are all parts of who I am, and I wear each of them with pride. But every now and then, I find myself wondering what about me? Not the titles, not the roles, not the things I do for others. Just me, as a person continually changing and evolving.

Change can be overwhelming. It can arrive quietly, like the gradual fading of something once familiar, or suddenly, like a door slamming shut. Either way, it’s one of the few constants in life. From the moment we’re born, we’re adapting, learning, reshaping ourselves to fit new chapters and experiences.

Knowing that doesn’t necessarily make it easier, of course. But maybe it helps us approach it differently. Maybe it helps us see that change isn’t something happening to us, but something that’s been part of us all along.

I’ve noticed this in myself recently too. Stepping back into work after parental leave, adjusting again to routines, conversations, and responsibilities. There’s a strange mix of emotions: gratitude for what I have, excitement to be back, but also an ache for what I’ve left behind, even temporarily.

That’s the paradox of change. It brings both gain and loss. The moment we grow into something new, we have to let go of something old. It’s easy to tell ourselves to just focus on the positive, but I think we need space for both. It is ok to cry for what we've lost and smile for what we had. both are true.

In therapy, I often meet people who are standing at that uncomfortable edge between who they were and who they’re becoming. They’ll say things like:

“I don’t recognise myself anymore.”

“I should be happy.”

“I feel guilty for wanting something different.”

“Other people have it worse I shouldn’t complain.”

But emotions don’t obey logic or comparison. We don’t get to choose which ones show up. Change often stirs up conflicting feelings, excitement and fear, hope and grief. All existing at once. It’s not a sign of weakness or confusion; it’s simply the human experience of transition.

Sometimes, we even cling to the parts of ourselves that no longer serve us because they feel safe, or because they’re what others expect. The strong one. The funny one. The one who’s “always okay.”

These identities may have helped us survive at one point, but they can also become heavy coats we forget we’re wearing.

Counselling offers a space to lay those coats down for a while. To look at them, to decide which still fit, and which we’ve simply outgrown. It’s not about fixing or reinventing yourself, but about giving yourself permission to evolve.

Because change isn’t just inevitable, it is essential.

Every version of you has had a purpose. Every chapter has taught you something. You don’t need to discard who you were to become who you’re meant to be. You just need to allow yourself to shift, to grow, to step into it.

So if you’re in a season of change right now, whether it’s big or small, chosen or unexpected. Know this: you don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to keep showing up for yourself.

And maybe, when the fear of change creeps in, you can remind yourself of this: the very fact that it feels uncomfortable probably means you’re growing.

If you’d like to explore whether counselling could support you, I’d be glad to hear from you.

Hit the free consultation button at the top of the screen there to book a free, no-obligation call with me. A chance to talk things through and see what might help.