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0Episode 68: Growth, is a kind of loss
I used to think becoming a better version of myself would feel like accumulation.
More confidence.
More experience.
More certainty.
Like stacking books on a shelf until one day I could look at my life and think:
Now I have enough.
Enough wisdom.
Enough strength.
But now, growing has felt strangely different.
Because every time I became someone new…
someone else disappeared.
And nobody warned me that growth could sound so much like grief.
Not dramatic grief.
But the quieter kind.
The kind where one day you suddenly realize:
I don’t react the way I used to.
I don’t dream the same dreams anymore.
I no longer recognize the person who wanted certain things so desperately.
And perhaps the strangest part—
you miss them.
Even when outgrowing them was necessary.
I think about younger versions of myself sometimes.
The girl who believed hard work would always be rewarded.
The version who thought love, if sincere enough, would stay.
The person who imagined adulthood as a destination rather than an endless rearrangement of identities.
I miss her optimism.
Even though I know she would not survive the life I live now.
Because strength often arrives after illusions leave.
And wisdom…
wisdom is expensive.
It asks for payment in certainty.
Psychologists sometimes talk about identity transition.
The uncomfortable period between who we were and who we are becoming.
Human beings don’t experience only grief after losing people.
We grieve versions of ourselves.
The ambitious self.
The innocent self.
The reckless self.
The hopeful self.
Sometimes even the suffering self—
because pain, repeated long enough, can become familiar.
And familiar things are difficult to release.
Even when they hurt us.
Maybe this is why certain songs undo us.
Why old photographs feel almost dangerous.
Why returning to places from our past creates an ache we cannot explain.
We think we miss the place.
Or the person.
But perhaps what we truly miss…
is who we were while standing there.
I wonder if maturity is not becoming fearless.
Or successful.
Maybe maturity is learning to carry multiple ghosts inside you:
The child you were.
The person you failed to become.
The dreams that quietly expired.
None of them disappear completely.
They travel with you.
People celebrate transformation.
But rarely do we ask:
Who had to be lost for this version to exist?
Because every becoming contains a small ending.
And endings deserve mourning too.
So perhaps if growing older feels heavy sometimes—
if success occasionally arrives with unexpected sadness—
if happiness is mixed with longing—
maybe nothing is wrong.
Maybe this is simply what growth has always been.
Not only gaining.
But learning how to gently say goodbye
to the people we once were.
Thanks for listening. See you next time!
第68集：成长，是一种失去
我曾经以为，
成为一个更好的自己，会像是一种累积。
更多的自信。
更多的经验。
更多的确定感。
就像在书架上一点一点堆满书，
直到某一天，
我终于能看着自己的人生，然后想：
现在，我拥有足够多了。
足够多的智慧。
足够多的力量。
但现在，成长却给我的非常不同的感觉。
因为每一次，当我成为一个新的自己……
就会有另一个自己消失。
而从来没有人提醒过我，
成长，有时候听起来很像悲伤。
不是那种剧烈的悲伤。
而是更安静的。
像某一天，
你忽然意识到：
我已经不会有像以前那样的反应了。
我已经不再做同样的梦。
我甚至开始认不出那个曾经那么拼命渴望某些东西的自己了。
而最奇怪的是——
你会想念他们。
即使你知道，
超越那些自我是必要的。
我有时候会想起年轻时的自己。
那个相信努力一定会得到回报的女孩。
那个以为爱情只要足够真诚，就可以长久的自己。
那个把成年当成终点，而不是不断重组身份过程的自己。
我怀念她的乐观。
即使我知道，
她未必能承受我现在的人生。
因为力量，
往往是在幻觉离开之后才出现。
而智慧……
智慧是昂贵的。
它的代价，
是确定感。
心理学里有一个概念：
身份转变（identity transition）。
那是一段介于过去的自己和现在的自己的一段令人不舒服的时期。
人类经历的悲伤，并不只来自失去别人。
我们也会哀悼过去的自己。
那个有野心的自己。
那个天真的自己。
那个冲动的自己。
那个充满希望的自己。
有时候，甚至包括那个痛苦的自己——
因为痛苦如果持续得够久，也会变成熟悉。
而熟悉的东西，总是很难放手。
即使它伤害过我们。
也许这就是为什么，
某些歌会突然击垮我们。
为什么旧照片有时候危险得令人不敢看。
为什么回到过去去过的地方，
会生出一种无法解释的酸楚。
我们以为，
怀念的是那个地方。
或者那个人。
但也许，
我们真正怀念的……
是当时站在那里的自己。
我在想，
成熟，
或许并不是变得无所畏惧。
也不是成功。
也许成熟，
只是学会让许多个幽灵同时住在你的心里：
小时候的那个自己。
失败的自己。
那些慢慢消失的梦想。
他们从未真正消失。
他们只是，
继续陪你往前走。
人们总喜欢庆祝蜕变。
但很少有人会问：
为了成为今天的自己，
我们究竟失去了怎样的自我？
因为每一次成为新的自己，
里面都藏着一个小小的结束。
而结束，也值得被哀悼。
所以，
如果成长有时候让人觉得沉重：
如果成功偶尔伴随着说不出的悲伤；
如果快乐里面混杂着怀念；
也许，不是哪里出了问题。
也许，这一直都是成长原本的样子。
它不只是获得。它也是学习，
学习如何轻轻地告别，
那些曾经属于我们的自己。
谢谢收听！下次再见！
