A blog post by Pepetoe.

There’s a strange pressure that comes with a new year. It’s the pause between what was and what’s coming next, a space that often feels heavier than we expect.

We’re told to be excited. To feel refreshed. To draw a neat line under the past and step forward lighter, brighter, and ready. But the truth is, some years don’t end cleanly. Some years leave fingerprints on us. Maybe it’s in the form of people we no longer speak to, versions of ourselves we’ve outgrown, or chapters we didn’t realise would close when they did. As we enter a new year, letting go isn’t always about relief. Often, it’s about grief.

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Leaving Doesn’t Mean It Didn’t Matter

One of the most painful myths about moving on is the idea that if something ends, it must not have been right, or that we need to rewrite the past to justify the ending. But the truth is, some of the most important parts of our lives don’t last forever.

Maybe there was a person who shaped your year in ways no one else did. Someone who felt central to your daily life, your sense of safety, or your understanding of yourself, and now they’re no longer there. Or maybe it was a job, a routine, a dream, or a version of the future you were quietly building towards.

Letting go doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t matter. It doesn’t mean minimising the role it played or rushing to replace it with something new. It simply means acknowledging that it belonged to a specific chapter, and that chapters are allowed to end without being reframed as mistakes.

Grieving Is a Natural Part of Growth

We often talk about growth as if it’s purely positive. Something that should feel expansive, empowering, and light.

But real growth almost always includes grief.

There is grief in becoming someone new. Grief in choosing yourself when it costs you familiarity. Grief in realising that the version of you who survived this year cannot come with you in the same way.

You might miss who you were, even if you know you can’t be her anymore. You might miss how things felt before you knew better, before you had to make harder choices. This doesn’t mean you want to go back. It means you’re honouring the complexity of change.

Mourning isn’t moving backwards. It’s a sign that something mattered deeply.

Letting Go of People Who Once Felt Like Home

Some of the hardest endings aren’t dramatic or explosive.

They’re quiet. They fade. They happen without clear explanations or final conversations. They leave you carrying memories instead of closure.

When someone who once felt like home is no longer in your life, the loss can feel disorienting. You’re not just grieving the person, you’re grieving the routines, the shared language, the version of yourself that existed with them. You’re allowed to grieve this, even if the ending was necessary. Even if walking away was the healthiest choice. Even if you don’t want them back.

Letting go of someone doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you’re choosing peace over proximity, and self-respect over familiarity.

Saying Goodbye to an Old Version of You

Not all grief is external.

Sometimes, the hardest thing to let go of is a version of yourself. The version who coped the best she could. The version who survived a difficult year, relationship, or mindset. The version who kept going when things were heavy, even if the ways she coped are no longer sustainable.

Outgrowing a version of yourself can feel unsettling. There can be guilt in changing, and fear in leaving behind what once kept you safe. You don’t have to resent who you were to evolve. You can thank her for carrying you through, and still choose to become someone new. Growth often asks us to honour the past without living inside it.

You Don’t Need Closure to Move On

We’re often taught that closure comes from conversations, apologies, or clear explanations.

But many endings don’t offer that kind of neatness.

Sometimes people leave without giving you answers. Sometimes situations change without resolution. And waiting for clarity that never comes can keep you emotionally tied to something that’s already over. Closure doesn’t always come from understanding what happened. Often, it comes from deciding that you deserve peace more than you deserve explanations.

Letting go is not about having every question answered. It’s about choosing to stop carrying what’s no longer yours to hold.

Carry the Lessons, Not the Weight

Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting what you’ve lived through.

You’re allowed to carry the lessons – the boundaries you learned to set, the red flags you now recognise, the strength you didn’t know you had – without carrying the emotional weight of the experience into the new year. What shaped you does not have to define you forever. You can honour what you learned without reopening the wound each time you remember it.

Growth is about integration, not erasure.

Becoming More Requires Release

There is something quietly brave about entering a new year with open hands.

Release doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like no longer revisiting the same memories. Sometimes it looks like unfollowing, deleting, or gently redirecting your thoughts. Sometimes it looks like allowing yourself to imagine a future that doesn’t include what once felt essential. Becoming more brilliant doesn’t mean becoming untouched by life. It means becoming more discerning about what you carry forward.

You don’t become stronger by holding everything. You become stronger by choosing what to put down.

A Gentle Way Forward

If you’re entering this new year carrying sadness alongside hope, you’re not failing at moving on.

Let yourself grieve what you’re leaving behind. Let yourself miss what mattered. Let yourself acknowledge that endings, even the right ones, can still hurt. You don’t need to rush this process. You don’t need to be over it by January. You don’t need to replace these feelings with new ones. Healing and release happen on their own timeline.

Sometimes, the most powerful way to step into a new year isn’t by reinventing yourself. It’s by finally allowing yourself to put something down.

Moving on isn’t about forgetting who or what shaped you. It’s about trusting that who you’re becoming can carry the wisdom, without carrying the pain.

Xo Pepetoe