A Letter to the Version of Me Afraid of Changing

From The Studio Archives

Dear Me Who's Terrified of Becoming,

I'm writing this letter while sitting in the exact space where I feel both most myself and most scared of myself. You know that feeling — when you're changing so fast you can barely keep up, and the voice in your head keeps asking: What if everyone I love can't keep up either?

I see you lying awake at night, wondering if the person you're becoming is someone Nicholas can still love. I see you hesitating before you share your real thoughts with family, calculating whether this new insight will create distance or understanding. I see you checking your reflection in other people's responses, looking for signs that you're still recognizable to them.

I see you afraid that growth might cost you everything that feels safe.

I wish I could tell you that's not how it works. I wish I could promise that everyone who loves you will celebrate every version of you that emerges. But that would be a lie, and you've gotten too good at detecting lies — even the comfortable ones.

The truth is scarier and more beautiful than that.

The Fear You Won't Say Out Loud

Let me name what you're really afraid of, because I know you've been carrying it alone:

You're afraid that if you keep changing, Nicholas will look at you one day and think, "This isn't the person I fell in love with." You're afraid that being authentic means being alone. You're afraid that the people who put you on pedestals will feel betrayed when you step down from them.

You're afraid that family dinners will become minefields of careful conversations. That old friends will start sentences with "You never used to..." and end them with disappointment. That your parents will look at the choices you're making and wonder where they went wrong.

You're afraid that loving yourself fully might make you unlovable to others.

And the really terrifying part? Some of that might happen. Some people might not be able to hold space for your becoming. Some relationships might not survive your growth.

I'm not going to lie to you about that.

What I Know About Love That You Don't Yet

But here's what I'm learning that I wish I could fast-track to your anxious heart:

Real love doesn't require you to stay small. The love that asks you to stop growing isn't actually love — it's attachment to a version of you that made someone else comfortable.

The people who are meant to be in your life will be curious about your changes, not threatened by them. They'll ask questions because they want to understand, not because they want to change you back.

And the ones who can't handle your growth? They're giving you information about the relationship, not about your worth.

I know that's easier to write than to feel. I know you want to be loved by everyone who's ever loved any version of you. But that's not how becoming works.

The Pedestal Problem

Let's talk about the hardest part — the pedestal you've been on your whole life.

Being "the responsible one," "the put-together one," "the successful one" — these weren't just compliments. They were cages. Golden cages that everyone, including you, helped build.

When people put you on pedestals, they're often loving an idea of you, not the full reality of you. They're loving your performance, not your personhood. And pedestals are lonely places to live.

Stepping down isn't betrayal — it's honesty.

Yes, some people will feel confused or even betrayed when you stop being the version of yourself they've come to depend on. When you start saying no to things that drain you. When you start expressing needs instead of just meeting them. When you start being human instead of just being helpful.

But ask yourself: Do you want to be loved for who you are, or for who you can pretend to be?

Because that's really what we're talking about here.

What You're Learning About Nicholas (And What It's Teaching You About Love)

I see you watching Nicholas navigate your changes, and I see the terror in your eyes when you wonder if your becoming is asking too much of him.

But look closer. Really look.

Has he asked you to stop growing? Has he tried to talk you out of the insights that light you up? Has he made you feel like your authenticity is a burden?

Or has he been doing something much braver — learning to love you as you are becoming, not just as you were?

That moment when you didn't want to go to the casino with your family, and you were so afraid of disappointing everyone — Nick didn't try to convince you to go. He helped you find the courage to honor what you actually wanted.

That's not someone who's threatened by your growth. That's someone who's committed to your wholeness.

Yes, it's scary that you can't predict how your changes will affect your relationship. Yes, there's always a risk that growing means growing apart. But there's also this possibility you keep overlooking:

What if growing into yourself makes space for even deeper love?

What if the version of you that emerges from this becoming is more lovable, not less, because she's finally real?

The Friends and Family Question

This one's harder because the stakes feel different. With Nicholas, you choose each other every day. With family and old friends, the relationships were formed around earlier versions of yourself.

Some of them will adapt. Some of them will even celebrate your changes because they love seeing you come alive. These are the people who were loving your essence all along, not just your performance.

Others will struggle. They'll make comments about "the old Katrina" or create distance when you don't show up the way they've come to expect. It will hurt, and you'll wonder if you should just go back to being who they need you to be.

Don't.

The people who can only love the version of you that stays convenient for them are asking you to betray yourself for their comfort. That's not actually love — it's attachment.

And the family dynamics? They're more complicated because they're older and deeper. But even there, you get to choose: Do you want to be an authentic daughter/sister/granddaughter, or do you want to be a comfortable one?

Because you probably can't be both.

What I'm Learning to Trust

I'm learning to trust that the right people will find their way to loving the real you. That the relationships meant to survive your becoming will bend but not break. That there's a difference between growing apart and being rejected.

I'm learning that when you live authentically, you attract authentic love. The people who come into your life during and after your changes are meeting the real you first — there's no false advertising, no bait and switch.

I'm learning that some relationships end not because anyone did anything wrong, but because people grow in different directions. And that can be sad without being tragic.

I'm learning that choosing yourself isn't selfish — it's honest.

What Changes and What Doesn't

Here's what I know will change as you keep becoming:

Some people will feel confused by your evolution and might create distance. Some relationships will need to be renegotiated or might end altogether. You'll have to learn to be okay with disappointing people who loved your performance. You'll need to get comfortable with being misunderstood by people who knew older versions of you.

And here's what won't change:

Your capacity to love deeply will only expand. Your ability to connect authentically will only strengthen. The people who are meant to be in your life will adapt and grow with you. The love you have for yourself will make space for others to love you more fully too.

The Permission You're Waiting For

You keep waiting for someone to give you permission to change. For Nicholas to say it's okay to keep becoming. For your family to celebrate your growth. For your friends to enthusiastically support every version of you that emerges.

But the permission has to come from you first.

You have to decide that your authentic becoming is worth the risk of some people not understanding. You have to choose your wholeness over their comfort. You have to trust that the love that requires you to stay small isn't the love you actually want.

This doesn't mean being reckless or cruel about other people's feelings. It means being honest about your own.

What I Wish for You

I wish for you the courage to keep changing, even when it's scary.

I wish for you relationships that can hold space for your becoming — the kind where people say "I love getting to know these new parts of you" instead of "I miss who you used to be."

I wish for you the discernment to tell the difference between love that celebrates your growth and attachment that fears it.

I wish for you the wisdom to know that you can grieve the relationships that don't survive your changes while still celebrating the person you're becoming.

Most of all, I wish for you to trust that you're not changing to hurt anyone — you're changing to heal everything.

The Both/And You're Learning

The most beautiful thing about this journey is that it's teaching you to hold both/and instead of either/or:

You can love people deeply AND disappoint them sometimes.
You can honor your past AND grow beyond it.
You can be grateful for who you've been AND excited about who you're becoming.
You can risk losing some relationships AND trust that the right ones will endure.
You can step down from pedestals AND still be worthy of love.

You can change AND still be lovable.

Actually, let me say that differently: You can be lovable because you're brave enough to change.

What's Waiting for You

On the other side of this fear is something you can't fully imagine yet: the relief of being completely yourself with the people in your life. The joy of relationships based on reality instead of performance. The peace of knowing that anyone who loves you loves the real you, changes and all.

There are friendships waiting for you that will be built on who you're becoming, not who you used to be. There are conversations waiting that you can't have until you're willing to show up authentically. There are versions of love waiting that require you to be fully yourself to experience them.

Your becoming isn't a threat to love — it's an invitation to deeper love.

The people who can meet you there will blow your mind with their capacity to love the real you. And the ones who can't? They'll teach you what you're no longer willing to accept.

Both are gifts, even when only one feels like it.

Right Now

Right now, you're in the middle of the scariest and most important work a person can do: choosing authenticity over approval, growth over comfort, truth over performance.

Right now, Nicholas is loving you through your changes and showing you what it looks like when someone chooses your wholeness over their convenience.

Right now, you have the opportunity to model for everyone in your life what it looks like to love someone through their becoming — starting with yourself.

Right now, you get to decide: Do you want to be loved for who you are, or for who you can pretend to be?

I think you already know the answer. I think that's why you're so scared.

Keep changing, brave one. The world needs more people willing to become who they actually are, even when it's terrifying. Especially when it's terrifying.

The love that can hold your becoming is worth the risk of losing the love that can't.

With all my love and unwavering faith in your courage,
The version of you who chose to keep becoming

P.S. - That thing you're afraid to say to Nicholas about how scared you are? Say it. The conversations you're avoiding with family about who you're becoming? Have them. The truth is almost always less scary than the stories we tell ourselves about the truth. And the people who can handle your reality are the only ones who get to keep you.