This is my current story exactly. The day I was forced to stop practicing dentistry due to a medical condition, I cried for hours. Not only because I loved the work, but because I suddenly could not separate who I was from what I could no longer do. Almost 1 year later I am rebuilding a new version of myself. This time it is on my own terms, intentional, following what makes me feel alive and not just safe. I still grieve my past identity and my career, but now I am allowing space for art, creativity, slowness, presence and listening to my body for the first time in 20 years since starting that path.
Laura, thank you for sharing this so openly. What you described captures something so many people feel but struggle to put into words: the grief of losing not just a career, but a version of yourself you spent decades building.
What moved me most is that, even in the midst of that loss, you are allowing yourself to be intentional rather than simply returning to what felt safe. What you’re describing — making space for art, slowness, presence, creativity, and listening to yourself again — sounds less like losing your identity and more like uncovering parts of yourself that never had room to breathe before.
I know the grief is real. But I also believe there is something profoundly beautiful about rebuilding a life on your own terms rather than on inherited expectations. Thank you again for sharing your story here. I have a feeling your words will help other people feel less alone in their own reinvention.
On April 30, 2026, I was a multiple. On May 1, 2026 I stopped being a multiple. I became a multiple at 5 months old. Nobody, including me, understood why I was struggling so hard; or why at times I seemed “very normal”, and at other times I was a mystery. Why didn’t I make any sense? Why didn’t my world make any sense?
In the fall of 1989, I was diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder (now called Dissociative Identity Disorder). Finally I found someone who understood me! Finally I could heal. For the next 30+ years I worked very hard to heal. It was hard, and scary, and had major unexpected turns in the road. My identity was in being a multiple, and I never imagined I would ever stop being a multiple. Nobody ever expected that total integration was possible!
During the first week of May, I cried out to God, “Has anybody ever been through what I’m experiencing?” My whole self and my entire world shifted into uncharted territory. It was a miracle! And at the same time it was devastating. These were people who walked every step of my life with me. I knew their faces, their voices, their personalities. They helped me raise my children; and I experienced the little ones inside growing up.
Yes, it’s true that they aren’t gone, they are now part of me; but I won’t ever see them again or hear their voices. It’s lonely being just one; and a quiet in my head that I never imagined could exist.
The image of Noah and his family getting off the ark came to mind. The world they had known and experienced their whole lives was gone, and the world they faced was completely foreign and mysterious to them. They didn’t know how they would function, what they would do, or where to begin.
But then I noticed the rainbow. It stretched over them like a canopy, reminding them that God was still with them, watching over them, guiding every step.
A comforting reassurance enveloped me, and a courage to discover how this new world of being “just one” would unfold.
It hasn’t been one month yet, and I’m still discovering the huge impact this is having on my mind and body. I’ve been in the emergency room because my doctor thought I was going into liver failure (which wasn’t the case, but the tests they ran revealed some extremely out of balance values and a UTI). I had migraines every day (thankfully it’s been two days since the last one now). My digestive system almost came to a standstill. My sleep experience was disrupted. I became progressively more fatigued and had increasingly challenging difficulties thinking clearly and organizing my thoughts.
Then I learned that when I was trying to straighten out my days and nights, I was actually causing more stress and exhaustion instead of fixing anything. I learned that I had to prioritize sleep whenever I was able to, and for as long as I needed to. (Thank you for your guidance 😊.) I’ve been doing that for about a week now, and some level of stability is returning. I’ve also added some new foods to my diet to help my body function better, because I learned about the impact of stress on my digestive system.
Who will I be tomorrow? Who am I becoming in the future? I’m acutely aware that there is no previous me to return to. There never was. I think that I’ve been bouncing forward for decades, but nobody gave me a definition for it. Now I’m bouncing into a totally new identity! Amazing!!
Elizabeth, thank you for trusting us with something so deeply personal. What stayed with me after reading your comment was the way you described integration as both a miracle and a loss. I think we often speak about healing as though it arrives cleanly or triumphantly, when in reality it can involve mourning entire ways of being that once helped us survive and make sense of the world.
Your description of the silence was especially moving because it captures how disorienting profound change can feel, even when it is ultimately good. After decades of experiencing life through multiplicity, becoming “just one” is not simply a new chapter. It is an entirely different internal landscape. The image of Noah stepping off the ark felt deeply fitting to me for that reason. The world ahead is unfamiliar, but the rainbow symbolizes something important: not certainty about the future, but reassurance that you do not have to navigate that uncertainty alone.
And your line, “There is no previous me to return to. There never was,” carries a tremendous amount of wisdom. Thank you again for sharing your experience here. I believe many people will recognize parts of themselves in your words.
I think that’s true, especially because happiness is often downstream from alignment. When people misunderstand the source of their unhappiness, they tend to make decisions aimed at relieving symptoms rather than addressing the underlying fracture.
Couldn't agree more. Solving the right problem is an underrated capability. It needs to be prioritised in a world full of information, opinions and rapidly evolving technology.
This is my current story exactly. The day I was forced to stop practicing dentistry due to a medical condition, I cried for hours. Not only because I loved the work, but because I suddenly could not separate who I was from what I could no longer do. Almost 1 year later I am rebuilding a new version of myself. This time it is on my own terms, intentional, following what makes me feel alive and not just safe. I still grieve my past identity and my career, but now I am allowing space for art, creativity, slowness, presence and listening to my body for the first time in 20 years since starting that path.
Laura, thank you for sharing this so openly. What you described captures something so many people feel but struggle to put into words: the grief of losing not just a career, but a version of yourself you spent decades building.
What moved me most is that, even in the midst of that loss, you are allowing yourself to be intentional rather than simply returning to what felt safe. What you’re describing — making space for art, slowness, presence, creativity, and listening to yourself again — sounds less like losing your identity and more like uncovering parts of yourself that never had room to breathe before.
I know the grief is real. But I also believe there is something profoundly beautiful about rebuilding a life on your own terms rather than on inherited expectations. Thank you again for sharing your story here. I have a feeling your words will help other people feel less alone in their own reinvention.
Intriguing and enlightening
On April 30, 2026, I was a multiple. On May 1, 2026 I stopped being a multiple. I became a multiple at 5 months old. Nobody, including me, understood why I was struggling so hard; or why at times I seemed “very normal”, and at other times I was a mystery. Why didn’t I make any sense? Why didn’t my world make any sense?
In the fall of 1989, I was diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder (now called Dissociative Identity Disorder). Finally I found someone who understood me! Finally I could heal. For the next 30+ years I worked very hard to heal. It was hard, and scary, and had major unexpected turns in the road. My identity was in being a multiple, and I never imagined I would ever stop being a multiple. Nobody ever expected that total integration was possible!
During the first week of May, I cried out to God, “Has anybody ever been through what I’m experiencing?” My whole self and my entire world shifted into uncharted territory. It was a miracle! And at the same time it was devastating. These were people who walked every step of my life with me. I knew their faces, their voices, their personalities. They helped me raise my children; and I experienced the little ones inside growing up.
Yes, it’s true that they aren’t gone, they are now part of me; but I won’t ever see them again or hear their voices. It’s lonely being just one; and a quiet in my head that I never imagined could exist.
The image of Noah and his family getting off the ark came to mind. The world they had known and experienced their whole lives was gone, and the world they faced was completely foreign and mysterious to them. They didn’t know how they would function, what they would do, or where to begin.
But then I noticed the rainbow. It stretched over them like a canopy, reminding them that God was still with them, watching over them, guiding every step.
A comforting reassurance enveloped me, and a courage to discover how this new world of being “just one” would unfold.
It hasn’t been one month yet, and I’m still discovering the huge impact this is having on my mind and body. I’ve been in the emergency room because my doctor thought I was going into liver failure (which wasn’t the case, but the tests they ran revealed some extremely out of balance values and a UTI). I had migraines every day (thankfully it’s been two days since the last one now). My digestive system almost came to a standstill. My sleep experience was disrupted. I became progressively more fatigued and had increasingly challenging difficulties thinking clearly and organizing my thoughts.
Then I learned that when I was trying to straighten out my days and nights, I was actually causing more stress and exhaustion instead of fixing anything. I learned that I had to prioritize sleep whenever I was able to, and for as long as I needed to. (Thank you for your guidance 😊.) I’ve been doing that for about a week now, and some level of stability is returning. I’ve also added some new foods to my diet to help my body function better, because I learned about the impact of stress on my digestive system.
Who will I be tomorrow? Who am I becoming in the future? I’m acutely aware that there is no previous me to return to. There never was. I think that I’ve been bouncing forward for decades, but nobody gave me a definition for it. Now I’m bouncing into a totally new identity! Amazing!!
I know that whoever I become, it will be good.
Elizabeth, thank you for trusting us with something so deeply personal. What stayed with me after reading your comment was the way you described integration as both a miracle and a loss. I think we often speak about healing as though it arrives cleanly or triumphantly, when in reality it can involve mourning entire ways of being that once helped us survive and make sense of the world.
Your description of the silence was especially moving because it captures how disorienting profound change can feel, even when it is ultimately good. After decades of experiencing life through multiplicity, becoming “just one” is not simply a new chapter. It is an entirely different internal landscape. The image of Noah stepping off the ark felt deeply fitting to me for that reason. The world ahead is unfamiliar, but the rainbow symbolizes something important: not certainty about the future, but reassurance that you do not have to navigate that uncertainty alone.
And your line, “There is no previous me to return to. There never was,” carries a tremendous amount of wisdom. Thank you again for sharing your experience here. I believe many people will recognize parts of themselves in your words.
Happiness is a byproduct of what you do with your life.
A better understanding of the root cause of you unhappiness results in better decision-making.
I think that’s true, especially because happiness is often downstream from alignment. When people misunderstand the source of their unhappiness, they tend to make decisions aimed at relieving symptoms rather than addressing the underlying fracture.
Couldn't agree more. Solving the right problem is an underrated capability. It needs to be prioritised in a world full of information, opinions and rapidly evolving technology.