What I’ve kept through every version of me

I found an old bullet journal the other day.

Nothing particularly exciting. Just one of those notebooks I’d apparently bought with the very serious intention of becoming an organised person.

Inside were lists. Books I wanted to read. Things I wanted to learn. Ideas I’d had for stories. Places I wanted to go. Plans for things that, at the time, seemed very important. Some of the content made me laugh. Some of it was wildly ambitious. Some of it made me wonder what the hell I was thinking.

And then I noticed something I hadn’t expected. I recognised myself. Underneath all of the situational worries, the life events and the notes of the day, there I was. Still curious. Still making lists of things I wanted to explore. Still looking for ways to make a life that felt interesting and meaningful.

Maybe “becoming ourselves” in midlife isn’t about turning into someone new — it’s about noticing the values we’ve quietly kept the whole way through, and choosing to live closer to them.

Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought I had. Maybe what I found in that notebook wasn’t just an old version of me. It was a set of values, still intact underneath every version I’ve been since.

Not everything needs editing

There is a lot of talk about change in midlife. And rightly so — our priorities shift, our relationships change, our bodies change, our work changes. The things we once thought were terribly important can suddenly seem… less so.

My previous post was about noticing those changes — about recognising when the things that once mattered no longer carry quite the same weight.

But I’ve been thinking about the other side of that. What if some things have stayed steady? What if, underneath all the versions of ourselves we’ve been, there are a few personal values that have quietly followed us through every chapter — not necessarily expressed in exactly the same form, but there all the same?

Because that’s what living in alignment actually means, I think. Not chasing some new, improved version of yourself. Living according to the values that were there all along — being true to them, even as everything around them changes.

The values that keep showing up

I’ve always loved learning. At twenty, that might have meant studying something new or disappearing into a library. These days it might mean listening to a podcast while I walk the dog, getting completely absorbed in a book, or spending far too long researching something I absolutely did not need to know. The expression has changed. The curiosity hasn’t.

I’ve always valued connection, too. But my idea of connection has changed. There was a time when it meant having lots of friends, going out, saying yes to things and filling the calendar. Now it might mean sitting at the kitchen table with someone I love and having a proper conversation. Or sending a message because someone popped into my head. Or choosing one good catch-up over three social commitments that leave me wondering why I agreed to any of them.

The value stayed. The way I live it changed. And perhaps that’s the important bit.

Values aren’t always loud

I used to think values were supposed to be big things. Words you’d put on a vision board. Freedom. Adventure. Success. Courage. Although I’m fairly sure nobody has ever stuck “I’d quite like everyone to stop talking to me for twenty minutes” on a vision board.

But maybe our values are often much quieter than that. They show up in the things we keep returning to — the things that matter even when nobody is watching, the things that make us feel like ourselves.

Maybe it’s kindness. Maybe it’s independence, or creativity, or family. Maybe it’s curiosity, honesty, humour, loyalty, learning, or making things. And maybe you’ve carried some of those values through every version of yourself without ever consciously deciding to. They’ve just been there.

I’ve been the same in some surprising ways

When I look back, I can see the same values showing up again and again, just wearing different clothes. The girl who was always writing things down — curiosity. The woman who still needs a notebook within arm’s reach — the same. The person who has always wanted to understand why people do what they do — that’s curiosity too, plus something like empathy. The person who notices when someone is uncomfortable in a room. The person who can get ridiculously excited about a new idea.

There have been plenty of versions of me who would not recognise my life now. But they’d recognise those values. And I find that oddly comforting.

Because midlife can sometimes feel like we’re supposed to become someone new. A better version. A healthier version. A more confident version. A version who finally knows what she’s doing.

I’m beginning to suspect that’s not really the point. Maybe we don’t need to become entirely new people. Maybe we need to become more ourselves.

What has stayed true?

I think that’s a question I’m more interested in these days. Not just what matters now — but what has always mattered. What values have I kept coming back to? Which ones have survived every job, relationship, hairstyle, parenting phase, ambition and questionable fashion choice? Which ones make me feel most like myself?

And perhaps even more importantly — what do I want to make sure I don’t accidentally edit out, simply because the rest of my life is changing?

Because it’s easy to assume that if we’re changing, everything has to change. But it doesn’t. Some things are worth keeping precisely because they’ve made it through every draft.

The ones you don’t cut

Every writer knows the advice: murder your darlings. Cut the line you love if it isn’t earning its place. Be ruthless. Nothing is precious.

It’s good advice, for writing. I’m not sure it’s good advice for a life.

Because I think there’s a shorter list — the lines that survive every edit. Not because you’re too sentimental to cut them, but because, draft after draft, they keep turning out to be true. And I don’t think that’s an accident. I think that shorter list is your values. The curiosity. The way you notice a room. The need for a notebook within arm’s reach. The things that would let one version of you recognise another, even if nothing else matched.

Living in alignment, then, might not be about finding new values to aspire to. It might be about noticing the ones that were never actually up for editing — and choosing, on purpose, to keep writing from them.

I still don’t have everything figured out. There are parts of my life I’m still editing — priorities that have changed, expectations I’m still questioning. But it’s strangely comforting to realise I haven’t been starting from scratch every time life has changed. My values were already on the page. I just hadn’t noticed.

Some lines don’t get cut. They just get carried into the next draft.

Not everything needs to be edited. Some things — your values — are worth keeping.

Em x