You’re not broken—you’re just grieving the version of yourself you never got to become

We live with a quiet ache, don’t we? We sense something is off, but we can’t put our finger on it.

We wake up, go through the daily grind, fulfill our obligations — yet some days, it feels like we’re wearing a stranger’s clothes.

Our mind nags: “What if I’d taken that leap years ago? Would I be happier, braver, more whole?”

That pain you feel isn’t the sign of a broken spirit.

It’s the grief of never having become the person you once imagined you’d be. It’s mourning the paths not taken and the dreams left hanging, half-formed.

It can be a devastating feeling — like your soul has been betrayed. But here’s the truth: you are not broken.

You’re in the process of reconciling the life you’re living with the life you once believed you’d have. And that process can lead you to a deeper, more authentic self if you face it head-on.

1) The illusion of a perfect self

We all carry around illusions of a “perfect self” — a version that never stumbles always makes the right choices, and glides through life unscathed.

You might think it started with your family’s expectations or the world’s relentless push for success. The reality is that this illusion is woven into our cultural myths.

From glossy media depictions to teachers who told us we could become “anything,” we internalized a fantastical version of ourselves that rarely accounts for real-world messiness.

I remember a time when I believed I had to be the ideal teacher and the fearless shaman, all without showing vulnerability or admitting that I, too, doubt my path.

That pressure was suffocating. It took me years to see that the perfect self I kept aiming for was robbing me of the humanity that makes life so alive.

The tragedy of clinging to this illusion is that every misstep and every detour feels like an irredeemable failure.

We beat ourselves up — accusing ourselves of being unworthy or incompetent.

But the more we strive to be that fictional figure, the further we drift from the raw, flawed, and truly vibrant humans we really are.

2) Grief in disguise

When people say they feel “broken,” they’re often weighed down by loss — the loss of who they thought they’d be. It’s a peculiar sort of grief because the one we’re mourning never fully existed in the first place.

We’re mourning a fantasy or maybe just the seeds of a dream that withered.

But here’s something I’ve learned from leading ceremonies and guiding people through emotional storms: grief has layers.

On the surface, you might think you’re sad because you haven’t achieved a certain goal or lived up to some standard.

But deeper down, there’s a heartbreak over lost innocence — over the realization that life isn’t as simple or controllable as you once believed.

I’ve sat with people who broke down crying because they never pursued the career they swore they would, or never built the family they’d been told was a measure of success.

It’s easy to mistake that sadness for a sign of personal failure.

In truth, they were grieving the parted dream, not necessarily the missed outcome. And acknowledging that difference is the first step toward healing.

3) The burden of expectations

We don’t grieve in a vacuum.

Those illusions of our “best selves” are often loaded with the expectations of others—parents, partners, mentors, even societal norms.

It’s not just your own voice in your head whispering, “You should have done more by now.”

You’re also haunted by the cultural ghosts insisting you keep up with an imaginary timeline.

And then we punish ourselves when we deviate. I’ve seen friends who shifted career paths mid-life or walked away from relationships that didn’t serve them.

They were tormented not just by their own second-guessing, but by the disapproval they feared from the outside world.

Was the real pain from leaving that job, or was it the guilt from not meeting the label of “successful professional” by 35?

The weight of other people’s expectations can distort your sense of self. You begin to see that cherished dream — maybe it was never truly yours to begin with.

Maybe it was an idol constructed by the collective “shoulds” that run our society.

Letting go of that idol is jarring, like a mini-death. But sometimes the greatest gift you can give yourself is to step out from under that burden and see what remains.

4) A personal experience with grief

I recall a period in my own life when I felt paralyzed — like the man I’d become was leagues away from the man I once swore I’d be.

I had these grand visions: the wise spiritual leader who never wavered, always poured unconditional love into the world, and never wrestled with doubts.

But guess what?

I’m human.

I’ve made mistakes that left me questioning everything. I’ve had days where the simplest tasks felt monumental because I was drowning in old resentments.

Yet the pain I felt wasn’t a verdict on my worth.

It was grief, plain and simple.

I was grieving the illusions, the naive beliefs, and the black-and-white worldview that younger me once clung to.

Once I labeled that feeling as “grief,” everything shifted.

I stopped thinking I was irreparably broken and started realizing I was in a process of transformation.

And transformation always demands some level of shedding, of letting go, of mourning the older skins you once inhabited.

5) Reclaiming the lost self

So, how do we move through this grief?

By recognizing that you’re not simply discarding the dream — you’re harvesting what was good and real in it.

Maybe you didn’t become a rock star or a millionaire entrepreneur.

But that dream held an energy of passion, of daring. It reminded you that you’re alive to create, to explore, to take risks.

That’s the essence you can still claim, even if the specific path has changed.

Reclaiming the lost self is about integrating the lessons from the old dream into your present life.

Sure, you might not have the big house or the ideal family structure you once pictured.

But you still have the capacity to love, to form community, to express yourself creatively. You can still honor the best parts of that dream without letting its downfall define you.

6) You’re evolving, not failing

If I could drill one idea into every person who feels “broken,” it’s this: you’re not failing; you’re evolving. The path you didn’t take wasn’t a guaranteed path to happiness anyway.

Life is full of illusions that promise salvation if we just had that perfect job, partner, or stage presence.

But illusions, as Slavoj Žižek reminds us, are powerful precisely because they mask the complexity of reality.

Human beings are dynamic.

The dream you had at 20 might not even fit who you are at 40. If that dream never manifested, maybe it’s because you’re in a continuous process of becoming.

The fact that you’re grieving a dream suggests you once had the spark of aspiration.

That spark didn’t die — it just seeks a new form.

When you realize this, you see that “failing” to become that old version of yourself might actually be an invitation to let your ever-evolving spirit find its truest expression.

The path forward

Letting go of the version of yourself you never became doesn’t mean you abandon all ambition or self-growth. It means you stop equating your self-worth with a static picture frozen in time.

You’re not broken — you’re in transition. And transitions can be painful. They can feel like losing a part of you. But in that loss, you’re gaining space for something more resonant with who you are right now.

If you’re ready to make peace with your unlived dreams, here are a few steps you might consider:

• Name the grief: Stop calling yourself broken or a failure. Recognize that you’re mourning a dream. Labeling it as grief gives you the power to process it rather than wallow in self-judgment.

• Honor what’s still alive in that dream: Ask yourself, “What values or energies did this dream hold that still matter to me?” Let those values guide you in new directions.

• Dissolve harmful illusions: Reflect on whose expectations you’ve internalized. Are you punishing yourself for not meeting standards you never truly agreed to?

• Seek a new vision: Once you’ve mourned the old dream, allow yourself to dream again—this time from a place of self-knowledge, not naive fantasy.

• Look for support: If you feel stuck, talk to people who understand you—close friends, mentors, or a supportive community. Sometimes having a witness to your grief is enough to catalyze healing.

And if you want deeper tools for unraveling the illusions that keep you stuck, consider my Free Your Mind masterclass. We dive into practical exercises to question dogmas, shed old narratives, and reconnect with the untamed parts of your spirit.

Remember: you’re not broken. You’re navigating a necessary heartbreak over the person you once envisioned but never quite became.

That heartbreak can lead to a liberation — a chance to show up for yourself in a way your younger self only dreamed of.

Embrace it.

Let the unfulfilled vision rest in peace, and let who you truly are step into the light.