The Past Must Come With You
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
OCTOBER 6, 2026 — 4:47 AM
Washington, D.C.
Somewhere between excitement and fear.
[Tarek]:
I’m feeling a lot of things.
Excitement for all the things I am creating with my hands. Building through spirit.
But also fear of the unknown and change that is to take place.
Change is actually what I want, and what I have been praying for.
But there’s a potential destination that change could lead me that scares me the most.
And that is a change that looks like my past.
One thing I know about my brain and how it has learned to manufacture safety is by outrunning the past. Sprinting. Overworking. Overachieving. Climbing to heights where the past is blurry, too far below to look familiar and evoke the emotions I left with it. (disassociation)
But with who I am today and the belief I have that all parts of me must come with me, there’s a version of me I’m trying to leave behind that I must connect with before I transcend.
A large part of my healing methods were inspired by the internal family systems, and every chapter consisted of me going back to all of the defining traumatic moments of my past, giving myself what I needed at the time that was not available, and bringing those versions of me back to the present with me to parent them.
The 7 year old me. The 11 year old me. The 15 year old me. The 17 year old me.
And once I “finished” that process —meaning they all were in the present with me / I wasn’t ashamed of their faces, beliefs, fears, shames, opinions, grievances, etc. I loved them actively and made space whenever they were triggered— I guess I assumed that I was done. Like there would be no more versions of me that would need saving. That life from that point on was me in a healed version. That wouldn’t need someone to come get me because I had myself.
I think somewhere along the way, I confused healing with the idea that I would never again become a version of myself that my future self would have to come back for.
But that’s the crazy thing about this thing called life lol. You can have the tools. the methods. the knowledge. But life, still lifes. Things still happen out of your control. Especially on the path of evolution and continuing the work of pushing yourself to serve, be, and receive more, it comes with a lot of experience that comes with emotions that stick.
I had no idea that at some point—where I am today—I would have to go back and save the version of me that did all that healing work.
Not once did I think I was perfect, or done with my healing, but I assumed because I was taking care of myself at the time that I would hold on to myself moving into the future.
But no. Sure I was taking care of myself, but today I feel some notes of shame, guilt, and embarrassment for who I was at the time. And I find myself afraid of what I am stepping into now ,that will bring change, because I am afraid of being ‘him’ again.
And that’s when I knew—ohhhhh—I can’t move forward until I go back and forgive myself, love on the shame, love on the guilt, extend grace and sit with him and stare him in the face without wanting to turn away.
Perhaps the next part of healing isn’t becoming someone better than him. Maybe it is refusing to exile him. Or any version of me.
Ultimately, going back and bringing him back with me in the present disables the fear that I could become him again, because he Is me. He is not something of the past, he is holding my hand in the present.
I cannot become him again because I never stopped being him.
That is where I want to be.
Because in this journey, those feelings of shame and guilt aren’t just things that come up randomly on a tuesday or friday, they are seeds from the past that we keep turning away from and the more we ignore it and let it sit, it grows and grows with each trigger.
And I’m not facing the music just out of sake of strengthening myself for the mountain I’m climbing now, but out of love for myself and the belief I have that all parts of me are valuable. lovable. and deserving of grace.
Not just today, but every day.
Not the ones in front of me, but the ones where I exist.
Healing isn’t making sure I never lose myself again. Maybe it’s knowing that if I do, I will always come back for me.
How I’m Doing It
The work is not to get rid of the shame. Or the guilt. Or the embarrassment.
It is learning how to be with those emotions without abandoning the version of myself they are attached to.
1. Finding where the fear actually lives
Before I can extend grace to that version of myself, I have to understand what I’m actually holding against him.
What about that period of my life still carries shame for me?
What do I feel guilty about?
What embarrasses me?
What am I afraid could become true again?
What am I trying to distance myself from in order to prove that I’ve changed?
This matters because sometimes I’m reacting to the past without actually naming what about the past I’m afraid of.
I want to know exactly what I’m running from.
And then I want to go there.
Not intellectually.
Actually go there.
2. Making space to feel it
For me, “making space” means setting aside dedicated time to sit with those emotions instead of immediately trying to move past them, explain them away, fix them, or distract myself from them.
It means:
Letting myself feel ashamed.
Letting myself feel guilty.
Letting myself grieve.
Letting the tears come when they come.
Not because suffering is the goal.
But because I don’t want those feelings to only have access to me when something triggers them.
I want to choose when I meet them, too.
3. Meeting the version of me who is holding them
Once I’m there, I want to speak to that version of myself like he is an actual person sitting in front of me.
Not a mistake. Not an embarrassing chapter. Not somebody I need to become better than.
A person.
And ask:
What did you need?
What were you trying to survive?
What were you afraid of?
What did you not know yet?
What do you wish somebody would have told you?
What are you still carrying?
4. Giving them something different
And then extending love. Grace. Understanding.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until maybe there aren’t as many tears—Not because the story disappeared, but because I finally stopped making him experience it alone.
The more time I spend with that version of myself in today’s life, the less he has to exist somewhere isolated in my past.
I want him here.
5. Letting the memory exist beside peace
Part of the healing is allowing emotions and memories that have lived almost exclusively beside shame, fear, and guilt to start existing beside different experiences.
Peace.
Love.
Grace.
Breath.
Stillness.
Meditation /relaxed nervous system
I can sit with the memory and breathe. I can feel grief and also feel safe. I can feel shame arise and still extend love toward myself. I can remember who I was and experience peace at the same time.
I’m not trying to rewrite what happened or convince myself that everything was okay.
I’m creating new experiences around the memory so shame is no longer the only emotion allowed in the room.
6. Repeating it
One journal entry, one meditation, one cry, nor one conversation will undo years of distancing.
So I’m going to keep returning.
Keep writing.
Keep sitting with him.
Keep allowing the emotions to come.
Keep reminding myself that he belongs here.
Because the goal isn’t for the emotions to disappear.
The goal is to be able to hold them in the present without them taking the present away from me.
Reflections for you
What version of yourself are you still trying to prove you are no longer?
What are you afraid would happen if your life started to resemble a chapter you thought you had already escaped?
When you think about that version of yourself, what comes first: compassion, embarrassment, anger, grief, shame, love?
What specifically are you ashamed of—and what do you believe that shame says about you?
If that version of you were sitting across from you today, what would they need to hear?
What did they know then?
What didn’t they know yet?
What were they trying to survive, protect, achieve, or understand?
Can you hold yourself accountable for something without withdrawing love from yourself?
What would “making space” for that version of yourself actually look like this week?
And what might change if you stopped trying to leave them behind and instead allowed them to walk beside you?
