Leticia R. Francis Says She Got You Through It, But She Can’t Take You Further

The version of you that survived the trauma, the heartbreak, the abuse, the betrayal, the burnout… she was never meant to lead you into your breakthrough.

She was built for the storm. But the storm is over.

Now it’s time to stop clinging to survival and start surrendering to becoming. We don’t talk enough about the identity death that comes with healing.

Everyone loves to talk about “glow-ups” and “leveling up.” But no one tells you that healing means grieving the version of you who protected you.

The woman who smiled through pain. The woman who said “yes” when she wanted to scream “no.” The woman who shrank herself to stay safe. The woman who held everyone else together while she was silently falling apart.

We don’t talk about how hard it is to let her go.

Because for a long time… she worked. She got you through things no one else could have. She learned how to read a room before opening her mouth. She learned to anticipate chaos before it arrived. She learned to earn love by being useful.

But now? She’s a liability. Not because she was wrong. But because you’re no longer in the war she was created for.

And here’s the truth most people won’t say: Healing doesn’t just require new habits. It demands a new identity.

So who did you become to survive? This is the real work. The stuff beneath the affirmations and vision boards. Because so many of us are trying to manifest a life that contradicts the very identity we’re still loyal to.

You can’t become a woman who honors her boundaries while still identifying as a people-pleaser. You can’t become a woman who trusts ease while still believing struggle makes you worthy. You can’t build a peaceful life while being addicted to chaos.

So I’ll ask you again, who did you become to survive?

Some of us became perfectionists, believing if we did everything right, no one would hurt us. Some of us became people-pleasers, because being agreeable was safer than being real. Some of us became hyper-independent, convinced that needing no one meant never being disappointed again. Some of us became overachievers, trying to outrun shame by collecting accomplishments.

But that’s not who you are. That’s who you had to be. And now, it’s time to un-become her. I know, this part is scary. Because that identity?

It gave you rules. It gave you safety. It gave you something to cling to when life was spinning out. Letting it go can feel like losing your armor. Like walking into the world emotionally naked.

But hear me, the armor is too heavy to carry into your healing. You are allowed to put it down. Not because you’re ungrateful for what it did.

But because you’re no longer interested in just surviving. Let’s talk about what happens when you stop performing the role.

At first? You might feel lost.

Naked. Exposed.

You might question who you even are without the constant fixing, helping, proving, perfecting.

You might realize you don’t actually know what you want, only what was expected of you. You might grieve a version of your life that never even belonged to you in the first place.

That grief? It’s holy. It means you’re no longer choosing numbness. It means you’re waking up.

But don’t rush this part.

There is no fast-forward button through identity death. Let yourself unravel. Because in the unraveling, the real you emerges.

Who would you be if you didn’t have to survive anymore?

What would your voice sound like if you weren’t afraid of being too much? What would your days look like if peace didn’t feel like a threat? What would your relationships be if you weren’t constantly managing everyone else’s emotions?

You don’t need to find yourself. You need to remember yourself. The version of you before the world told you to dim your light.

Before survival forced you to split into smaller, safer versions of yourself.

You’re not starting from scratch, you’re returning home. And here’s the most sacred part of it all: you get to choose who you become next.

You get to define your values. You get to decide what you allow. You get to rewire your beliefs around worth, safety, and power. You get to become a woman who:

Speaks with softness and strength. Says no without guilt or explanation. Rests without feeling unproductive. Trusts herself, deeply and fully.

This version of you?

She’s not afraid of ease. She’s not performing for applause. She doesn’t need to be perfect to feel powerful. She’s rooted. She’s clear. She’s whole.

But you’ll never become her while still clinging to the version of you that was only built to survive.

So here’s your challenge:

Write a letter to the version of you who got you through the worst of it. Thank her. Honor her. And then release her.

Let her know you’re safe now. Let her know it’s okay to rest. Let her know you’re choosing something better.

Because healing isn’t about erasing who you were. It’s about choosing who you no longer have to be.

The world will try to keep you in survival mode. It will praise your performance and ignore your pain. It will reward your burnout and call it excellence.

But you? You were not born to survive.

You were made to disrupt patterns, reclaim your voice, and create a life that feels like truth. And you can’t do that in someone else’s armor.

So take it off. Let her go. And become the woman you were always meant to be.