The Unseen Side of You: Self Destruction and Breaking Things

By Anahita Mehrdoust April 30th 2026

We are always shown the pretty version of growth and inner development. Where everything falls into place and healing feels calm. Becoming “better” looks smooth and easy. But have you ever heard about the mess it creates? The parts of you that do not grow but break. 

The truth is, growth will ask us to leave things behind. Not just bad habits but also parts of our identity. The way we think, the way we react, the way we see ourselves. And when those things start to break, it does not feel like progress at all! It feels like losing control and it can be painful. 

When Changes Doesn’t Feel Good 

The idea for this piece came from watching the world feel unsteady. Lately, it feels like everything is shifting at once. Systems, and the sense of stability we usually rely on is no longer the same. And it made me wonder: how do we, as people, actually deal with destruction? Not just the kind we see in headlines and news, but the breaking of things we thought were certain. We are taught that life is about building. Building careers, relationships, identities, a sense of direction. But what happens when the world around us does not feel like it is building anything at all? What happens when things start to fall apart externally or internally and there is nothing to hold onto? 

These changes are not “hard” in a motivating way. It is more like wearing a version of our life that suddenly does not fit anymore. It can show up quietly. We are sitting with friends, the same ones we have always laughed with, and somehow the conversation feels distant. We are there, smiling, responding but a part of us has already stepped back, observing instead of belonging. 

When the world feels unstable or “destructive,” it can create a sense of loss of control. And as humans, we try to regain control somehow. For some people, that turns inward. They start questioning everything, pulling apart their identity or distancing themselves from others. And trust me, I say this as one of those people. So I asked myself, what if it just looks like destruction but it is really a reaction to overwhelm?

However there is an important thing here: not everything that feels like “destroying” is actually harmful. Sometimes what is happening is re-evaluation. We are shedding beliefs, habits, or roles that do not feel true anymore. From the inside, that can feel chaotic. It seems like things are breaking. But it is not the same as self-destruction in a damaging sense. When the world feels like it is falling apart, we do not automatically destroy ourselves. But we are more likely to unravel. And what we do in that unraveling can either lead to growth or to harm.

Losing Who We Used to Be

It rarely feels like a clear decision. We do not wake up one day and choose to leave our old self behind. It happens in quieter ways. Through moments where our usual reactions do not show up, where something that once felt natural now feels forced. Losing who we used to be does not mean our past disappears or that we become a completely different person overnight. It means the way we identify with ourselves starts to change. It could be in the beliefs, roles, and patterns that once defined us but now stop feeling true. In a way we are not losing ourselves. We are losing the version of us that was built around certain needs.

Understanding that does not come as one clear realization. It shows up through patterns: We start reacting differently in situations that used to be predictable. Things that once felt normal begin to feel uncomfortable. We might question our choices. We feel slightly out of place in environments where we used to fit easily. What am I doing here? There is often a sense of being “in between.” Not fully connected to who we were, but not fully grounded in who we are becoming either. And that is usually the clearest sign. Not a dramatic moment, but a growing feeling that our old way of being no longer fits. 

It can feel confusing because we tend to think of identity as something stable. But in reality, it shifts as we grow. What we are experiencing is not the loss of self. It is the loosening of something that no longer reflects us. Being “in between” is not easy at all. It is difficult because our sense of self is what gives us stability in life. Even if our old version of us was not perfect, it was familiar. It had patterns we understood, reactions we could predict, and a way of moving through the world that did not require constant questioning. So when that version starts to shift, it does not just feel like change. It feels like losing our footing.

Another reason it is difficult is because identity is not just internal. It is also tied to our life. The way we act, the way others respond to us, the roles we play in relationships, even the environments we fit into. All of that is built around a certain version of us. When we change those connections do not always adjust at the same speed. That can create a feeling of disconnection. There is also uncertainty. The old version of us may have had problems, but it also had clarity: we knew who we were supposed to be. When that disappears, we do not immediately get a new clear identity in return. We are left in a kind of in-between space where we are no longer who we were, but we are also not fully formed into what comes next.

Collapse or Conscious Release

At first, they can look the same. In both cases, something ends. From the outside, it might all look like things falling apart. But internally, there is a big difference between collapse and conscious release.

Collapse is something that happens to us. It builds slowly, often unnoticed, until it reaches a point where we can no longer hold things together. We might ignore signs for a while. Push through discomfort. Override our needs and tell ourselves it is “not that bad.” Until one day, it is too much. And things do not gently end, they break. It can feel chaotic. Like everything is happening at once, without control. There is often confusion in it. We are not fully sure what went wrong, only that something did.

However, conscious release is different. It still involves letting go but there is awareness in it. We see what is no longer working, even if it is uncomfortable to admit. And instead of waiting until things reach a breaking point, we choose to step away and change the direction. It is not easy. In fact it can feel just as uncomfortable as collapse. The difference is that we are present in the decision. 

Collapse is sudden and reactive. But the conscious release is gradual and intentional. And this difference strongly matters because many people only allow themselves to let go when things become unbearable. Collapse becomes the permission to change. As if things need to get bad enough before we are “allowed” to walk away. Learning to recognize the early signs like the tension, the misalignment, the quiet resistance can create another option. It allows us to release without having to destroy. And maybe that is what changes the whole experience. 

Letting Things Break

Sometimes we might feel there is a strong need to make everything meaningful. To turn every difficult phase into a lesson. To explain it and package it. To say this happened for a reason. It gives a sense of control. A way to feel like nothing was wasted. But not everything that breaks needs to be turned into something useful. Some things fall apart simply because they were not meant to continue. Because they had reached their limit. And trying to immediately turn that into growth can sometimes be another way of avoiding what actually happened. Meaning making takes time. And forcing it too early can make us skip over something important. There is value in being able to sit with what ended without rushing to explain it. Why not just say this was part of my life, it mattered, and now it is over?  

In the end, this was never only about things falling apart outside of us. It was about what happens inside us when stability stops feeling certain. When the structures we rely on, internally and externally, begin to shift, something in us reacts. Sometimes by holding on tighter. Sometimes by letting go too quickly. Sometimes by quietly breaking in ways we do not fully notice until later.

And maybe that is the unseen side of us. Not a fixed identity, not a stable version of self, but something more fluid. Something that responds, resists, and releases. Not always in control. Not always coherent. But deeply human in the way it moves through endings and beginnings that are not clearly separated.