The truth is: I’m not proud of who I was a year ago. And I say that with zero shame. If I was still proud of that person—still clinging to the old version of me—I’d be missing the point. That version helped me survive. But this version is built to thrive.
Cringing at your
old self isn’t a weakness. It’s evolution in action.
We don’t talk enough about how real growth can feel like embarrassment. It’s awkward to revisit your old beliefs and habits and realise how much you didn’t know. But that’s precisely how you know you’re moving. You’ve pulled back the veil. You’ve started seeing life more clearly.
It’s not shame. It’s awareness.
A year ago, maybe I tolerated too much. Gave too little. Believed ideas that made me small. Maybe you did, too. But if you’re still standing in that version of yourself with pride—no cracks, no shift, no tension—then maybe you’re defending a self that needs retiring.
Alain de Botton said it best: “Anyone who isn’t embarrassed by who they were last year probably isn’t
learning enough.”
Read that again.
We want to feel proud of our younger selves because it makes us feel consistent. Safe. Secure. But the goal isn’t to protect your ego. It’s to become. To sharpen. To refine. To live this life with your eyes wide open and your mind still changing.
If you’re the same person you were five years ago—same opinions, same
arguments, same reactions—are you even growing?
Growth, real growth, leaves behind a trail of moulted skin. You’re supposed to shed old ways. Outgrow them. Outlive them. Just like characters in my novels who find power only when they release what no longer serves their evolution.
In speculative fiction, staying static is death. And in real life? The same rules apply.
You’re supposed to feel strange looking back. You’re supposed to question past choices. Not because they were bad, but because you’ve become someone new. Better, wiser, more equipped. Embarrassment is just proof of distance. And distance is how you track progress.
The real tragedy isn’t in making mistakes. It’s in clinging to old versions of ourselves for comfort.
The people who grow the most often feel the cringe the deepest. They’ve taken risks. Made bold choices. Dared to fail. But they’re still here—learning, adjusting, becoming. And if you’re reading this, so are you.
Maybe the real goal isn’t to be proud of who you were a year ago.
Maybe it’s to be proud of who you’re becoming today.
So don’t hide from the discomfort. Use it. Let it show you where you’ve grown—and where you still need to stretch. If the version of you from last year would look at you now and say, “Damn, we’ve levelled up,” then you’re on the right path.
You don’t need to feel finished. You just need to feel forward.
Because if you’re still learning, you’re still
alive.
And that’s how you know you’re doing life right.
Peace, love and power.
