The Versions of Ourselves

“We are not what we were, we are not what we will be — we are the sum of all our versions.”

Versions of Ourselves

The Mirror of Who I Was

Imagine standing before an old mirror. The reflection looks familiar, but the eyes are softer now. The posture is different, the gaze heavier with understanding. You see someone you once were — the version that dreamed boldly, spoke too quickly, or trusted too easily. Then you glance into a newer mirror and meet the person who has lived through storms and still finds beauty in small things. Both reflections are you, but neither fully defines you; the versions of ourselves.

Life is a collection of selves. The version of you at fifteen still whispers through your decisions. The version who grieved, the one who rebuilt, the one who dared to start again — they all coexist. We don’t erase our past selves; we evolve through them.

The Psychology of Evolving Identity

Modern psychology suggests that identity is not a fixed trait, but a living system that evolves through context and time. Dan McAdams (2021) explains that humans form narrative identities — internalized life stories that provide coherence and meaning to who we are. We continuously edit and reinterpret these narratives, weaving experiences into something that feels whole.

Eline Crocetti (2023) expands this concept, describing identity as a developmental and social process. We negotiate our sense of self through relationships, culture, and life transitions. When those forces shift — a divorce, a diagnosis, a move — our identity shifts with them. We are, at any moment, the product of both who we’ve been and who we are still becoming.

The Neuroscience of Change

Our brains are wired to hold a continuous sense of “me.” Neuroscientific research shows that autobiographical memory networks keep us tethered to our past (Martone, 2021). Even as neurons die and regenerate, the story of who we are persists through the brain’s ability to store and retrieve personal narratives.

Yet neuroplasticity — the brain’s lifelong capacity to adapt — means that we can quite literally rewire identity. New experiences reshape neural pathways, influencing how we perceive ourselves (Berns, 2022). In this sense, change is not betrayal; it is biology. Growth is a built-in feature of being human.

As neuroscientist Gregory Berns stated, “If you want to change your identity, you must change the narrative” (Emory News, 2022). The brain responds not just to events, but to the meaning we assign them. Rewriting our story rewires our mind.

A Scenario: Reinvention After Loss

Consider Marie, age forty-two, a corporate manager and mother of two. When her marriage ended, she felt hollow. “Who am I without being his wife?” she asked. At first, she tried to resurrect the confident, career-driven version she once knew, but it no longer fit.

Through therapy, Marie began writing her life in chapters: Marie the dreamer, Marie the caregiver, Marie the survivor. She wrote letters to each version, forgiving the parts that stumbled and thanking the ones that endured. Eventually, a new self emerged — one that painted again, laughed differently, and no longer needed to prove her worth.

Psychologically, this is a healthy reintegration. People reconstruct identity after major life events by redefining personal values, creating new goals, and forming revised life narratives (Crocetti, 2023). Marie didn’t “find herself” — she authored herself anew.

The Art of Narrative Rewriting

Our identity is, in many ways, a story we tell ourselves. Some chapters ache to be closed; others demand to be rewritten. Reinterpreting painful memories with compassion — rather than shame — can soften their hold. McAdams (2021) notes that mature identities often include themes of redemption and growth, where adversity becomes part of meaning-making.

When we shift from Why did this happen to me? to What did this teach me?, we edit our story in real time. This process, called narrative reconstruction, strengthens emotional regulation and resilience. Our past selves cease to be ghosts of regret; they become ancestors of our becoming.

Practical Reflections for Growth

1. Write segmented letters

   Address your 15-year-old self, your 30-year-old self, and your current one. What wisdom would you exchange?

2. Map your identity roles

   List who you are today — parent, friend, artist, healer. Notice which identities feel aligned and which no longer serve you.

3. Embrace narrative revision

   Retell your story with a focus on themes of strength and purpose.

4. Allow seasonal selves

   Some versions of you are temporary — like winter selves that prepared you for spring.

5. Practice mindful observation

   Instead of resisting change, observe it: I notice my values shifting. I am growing.

Closing Reflection

Each version of us carries lessons, loves, and losses. None are wasted. The goal isn’t to return to who we were, but to integrate who we’ve been into who we are becoming.

You are the sum of all your versions — the survivor, the dreamer, the one who keeps evolving. So when you feel uncertain about who you are, remember: you are not lost because you’ve changed. You are found because you finally allowed yourself to.

References

Berns, G. (2022). Changing the narrative: How storytelling reshapes the brain. Emory News. https://news.emory.edu/features/2022/10/er_changing_the_narrative_12-10-2022

Crocetti, E. (2023). Identities: A developmental social-psychological perspective. European Review of Social Psychology, 34(1), 110–145. https://doi.org/10.1080/10463283.2022.2104987

Martone, R. (2021). How our brain preserves our sense of self. Scientific American. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/how-our-brain-preserves-our-sense-of-self

McAdams, D. P. (2021). The person as a motivated agent and autobiographical author: Three levels of personality. Psychological Studies, 66(4), 341–351. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12646-021-00611-6