Maybe You’ve Simply Outgrown It

What no longer fits may not need fixing.

Every fall, I perform the same little ritual.

I pull out clothes I haven't seen since last year and discover that several of them have apparently been living very different lives while in storage.

A sweater has shrunk.

A pair of jeans has become strangely judgmental.

And at least one item makes me wonder what kind of confidence I was operating with when I bought it.

I could blame the clothes.

I could blame myself.

Or I could accept one of life's simpler truths:

Sometimes things just don't fit anymore.

And I'm beginning to think we could save ourselves a lot of unnecessary emotional tailoring if we understood that this applies to more than just jeans.

Not Everything That Changes Needs to Be Fixed

Sometimes we assume that if something once worked for us, it will continue working forever.

A friendship.

A routine.

A job.

A goal.

A relationship.

Even an old version of ourselves.

So when something starts to feel uncomfortable, we immediately wonder what went wrong.

Maybe nothing did.

Maybe you've just changed.

That's one of the strange things about growth. We talk about wanting it, celebrate it, buy books about it, and occasionally make very ambitious lists about it in brand-new notebooks.

Then growth actually happens, and we look around wondering why our old life suddenly feels a little tight.

Friend, you cannot grow and expect everything around you to stay the same size.

When Your Life Already Fits

There's something different about dating after you've built a life you genuinely like.

You're not waiting for someone to arrive so life can begin.

It already did.

You have routines. Friendships. Responsibilities. Favorite places. Sunday mornings that belong to you. Maybe a side of the bed you've been sleeping on so long that the other side is basically guest property.

Then someone comes along.

And now the question isn't only:

Do I like this person?

It's also:

Where does this person fit into the life I've already built?

That's a very different dating question.

Maybe you want marriage.

Maybe you want a committed relationship but separate homes.

Maybe you want companionship without combining every bank account, holiday tradition, family obligation, and bathroom drawer.

Maybe what you wanted at 30 isn't remotely what you want now.

That doesn't mean you've outgrown love.

Maybe you've outgrown your old definition of what love should look like.

And once you understand that, a new question comes to mind:

How much room are you actually willing to make for someone else?

That's where things get interesting.

Making Room Without Losing Yourself

Because sometimes the problem isn't that something no longer fits.

Sometimes we've simply become very comfortable having everything fit exactly the way we want it.

Especially after we've been single for a while.

You decide when you eat.

You decide where you go.

You decide how you spend your money.

You control the television, the thermostat, the vacation itinerary, and exactly how many decorative pillows are permitted on the bed.

Then another human being arrives with...

opinions.

The nerve.

And suddenly we have to ask ourselves an uncomfortable question:

Is this asking me to compromise who I am—or simply to consider someone other than myself?

Those are two very different things.

A healthy relationship will occasionally inconvenience you.

Another person's needs will sometimes matter when you'd rather concentrate on your own.

You may have to compromise.

You may have to adjust.

You may even have to watch something on television that you did not personally select.

I know.

Love asks a lot.

But compromise and self-abandonment aren't the same thing.

Knowing the difference is part of clarity.

Boundaries Can Look Different From the Outside

I've been thinking lately about this:

Boundaries are often mistaken for arrogance.

When you stop tolerating behavior you once accepted, someone may decide you've changed.

They're probably right.

When you stop explaining every "no," someone may call you difficult.

When you stop rearranging your entire life to accommodate someone else's inconsistency, you may suddenly seem less agreeable.

And when you know what you want from a relationship, there will always be someone willing to tell you that your standards are too high.

That doesn't automatically mean they are.

But - and this matters - calling something a boundary doesn't automatically make it one either.

“I won't accept disrespect” is a boundary.

“I expect another adult to respect my time” is a boundary.

“I will not remain in a relationship where I am consistently treated as an afterthought” is a boundary.

“Nobody is allowed to interfere with the way I already do things”...

Friend, that may be a wall.

And walls don't just keep the wrong people out.

The Season of Knowing

Maybe that's one of the gifts of getting older.

We begin to know.

What fits.

What doesn't.

What we're willing to negotiate.

What we aren't.

What brings us peace.

What merely keeps us comfortable.

And perhaps most importantly, we become better at recognizing the difference between something that asks us to grow and something that asks us to shrink.

Those can feel remarkably similar at first.

As we head into fall, maybe we don't need to reinvent ourselves.

Maybe we just need to pay attention to what still fits.

Try on the old assumptions.

Pull out the expectations you've been carrying around for years.

Take another look at what you once believed a relationship required.

Some things will still feel exactly right.

Some may need a little adjusting.

And some things?

You may finally be ready to stop squeezing yourself into them.

Pocket Louise

Growth doesn't always announce itself.

Sometimes you recognize it because something that once felt normal doesn't anymore.

Before you decide that something needs fixing, ask yourself:

Does this need adjusting—or have I simply outgrown it?

And while you're at it, ask one more:

Is this boundary protecting who I've become—or keeping anyone from getting close to me?

Because clarity isn't knowing that everything has to go your way.

It's knowing what you're willing to bend...

without forgetting where you stand.

With love, laughter, and absolutely no negotiations with last year's jeans,

Louise 💜