The Funeral No One Talks About: Mourning Your Younger Self

What women in midlife need most isn’t advice—it’s permission to grieve.

I knew something was off when I cried over a perfume I used to wear at 26.

Not because it was discontinued.

Because I didn’t smell like her anymore.

That scent of vanilla and sandalwood reminded me of late nights, impulsive decisions, and a body that forgave everything. It was the smell of possibility. Of someone who hadn’t yet been broken open by life. Of the girl who thought aging was a thing that happened to other women.

The Phantom of the Past You

We don’t talk about this enough.

Everyone wants to empower you through midlife—vitamins, expensive skin care, “aging is a privilege” pep talks.

But no one prepares you for the grief.

Grief for the girl who didn’t second-guess herself in photos. Grief for the body that didn’t require a stretching routine and a pep talk just to get out of bed. Grief for the version of you who didn’t yet know betrayal, disappointment, or bone-deep exhaustion.

She’s gone.

Not tragically. Not dramatically. Just… quietly slipped away while you were raising kids or chasing promotions or surviving heartbreak.

You didn’t notice it until the clothes fit differently. Or the music felt louder. Or you suddenly started Googling “best supportive shoes that aren’t hideous.”

And that grief? It’s real.

What if you let yourself mourn her?

You don’t have to pretend you’re over it.

Let yourself feel it:

• Look at an old photo and say, “Damn, she was something.”

• Wear her lipstick one more time, even if it’s “too bold for now.”

• Admit you miss how she used to believe everything was still ahead of her.

And then, thank her.

She was beautiful. Brave. Slightly delusional. But she got you here.

She made the choices. Took the risks. Made the messes you learned from.

You are not her anymore.

And that’s not failure.

It’s simply the passage of time.

The ritual you didn’t know you needed

So give yourself permission to:

Hold a tiny, sacred funeral for her. Light a candle. Write her a love letter. Forgive her mistakes. Laugh at her bangs. Bless her hopeful, love-struck heart.

Then bury her with honor.

Not because she wasn’t worthy.

But because you are now someone new.

Someone with more depth. More stories.

She had potential.

You have power.

And that power? It’s Yours Now

You’re not becoming less.

You’re becoming more of what matters.

Yes, there’s grief. And yes, there’s loss.

But there’s also clarity. Wisdom. And the joy that only women with laugh lines, wrinkles and strong opinions seem to have.

So grieve her, yes.

And then grow into the woman she hoped you’d become.

She’d be proud.

She might roll her eyes at your 10-step skincare routine… but she would want your backbone.

P.S. Want to write your own letter to your younger self? I made a free worksheet for that. Subscribe, comment or like, and I’ll send it your way.