A blog by Pepetoe.

This isn’t about regret. It’s not about shame, or rewriting the past, or pretending I was someone else. It’s about acknowledgement, about recognising the version of me that existed for a reason, but no longer needs to come with me.

This year demanded survival. And the version of me that got through it did what she had to do. She adapted. She coped. She stayed. I don’t blame her for that.

But I’m not taking her into the new year.

I’m not taking the version of me who tolerated discomfort for too long because leaving felt harder than staying. I’m not taking the version of me who ignored her own signals in favour of keeping the peace. I’m not taking the version of me who mistook chaos for connection, or exhaustion for ambition.

She wasn’t weak. She was overwhelmed.

And she doesn’t need to keep carrying everything alone.

I’m leaving behind the version of me who felt she had to explain herself endlessly to be understood. The version who shrank to fit spaces that never truly held her. The version who pushed through instead of pausing, even when her body and mind were begging for rest.

Letting go of her isn’t rejection, it’s respect. She served her purpose. She kept me alive when things were heavy. But the habits she formed to survive aren’t the ones I want to build a life on.

The version of me I’m stepping into now listens sooner. Leaves earlier. Chooses clarity over noise. She doesn’t confuse intensity with depth or familiarity with safety.

This isn’t a transformation — it’s a continuation, just with less weight.

I don’t need to punish who I was to honour who I’m becoming. I can thank that version of me quietly and let her rest.

I’m not taking her into the new year because I don’t need her armour anymore.

What I’m carrying forward instead is self-respect, discernment, and the courage to choose peace, even when it looks simple from the outside.

This isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about finally allowing myself to be who I am without surviving first.

Xo Pepetoe