When the Old Skin No Longer Fits

By Heather Garner | Ciao Bella Leadership

Transition is challenging—and beautiful—all at once.

It’s not linear. It’s not quick. True transformation doesn’t arrive wrapped in a single breakthrough moment. It unfolds over years, layer by layer, breath by breath, until one day you look in the mirror and realize: you no longer fit into the skin you once wore.

I used to want it all at once. Healing, clarity, peace. But our bodies—these miraculous vessels—are far more intelligent than that. They won’t let us rush what must be unraveled gently. We must grow into our truth the way a snake grows into new skin: slowly, patiently, unapologetically.

Take my recovery journey. I let go of every pharmaceutical that had been prescribed to me, every diagnosis handed down by professionals I once trusted solely because they had two letters behind their name. That decision didn’t just require courage—it required repeated commitment. Over and over again, I had to choose myself.

People I loved told me they wouldn’t speak to me unless I got back on medication. Some followed me, questioned me, watched me so closely that I started to wonder—am I losing my mind, or am I waking up?

That small decision became a massive leap. I started to discern truth not from doctors, not from society, not from marketing campaigns or frightened family members—but from within. I realized the people around me, whether intentionally or not, were hurting me. And for the first time in my life, I chose to trust my agenda over theirs.

They called me selfish. They mocked my path. I became the enemy because I started to love my human vessel. Imagine that—loving your body being a revolutionary act.

But something magical began to happen. I developed an unshakable inner strength. A quiet intelligence that whispers to me at every crossroads. I stopped needing to be understood.

I accepted my family’s decision to disown me, and I walked forward anyway. My truth was like razors to their ears—so I let them stay where they were. Years later, some circled back into my life. I looked at them with love, but also with clarity. Their jobs were intact. Their social circles untouched. But their bodies were beginning to fail them. Health issues started to rise. The same bodies that once held them in superiority now begged them to change.

They didn’t need my words. Their bodies were telling them what mine had already taught me: You cannot abandon yourself forever.

We are each given a divine assignment in this life: To discover the power we carry. The power to destroy everything we love. The power to build everything we dream of. The power to heal or to deny healing. The power to walk willingly or stumble in resistance.

Just as the sun reflects its shimmer across the ocean, you—yes, you—are reflecting light across the world. You may not realize it. You may feel unseen. But your light cannot be missed. Someone, somewhere, is admiring your glow.

I’ve been in this in-between place lately—no longer who I was, not quite yet who I’m becoming. And it’s uncomfortable.

I go to work and feel like an alien among the sick. I visit family and feel like I’m speaking a foreign language when I mention prayer, energy healing, or God. But here’s what’s changed: a few years ago, it hurt deeply. Now, it just feels like... “Oh well.”

There’s zero chance I’ll return to who I was when I fit into those rooms. That woman wanted to die. Regularly. Now, even on my loneliest days, I want to live.

And when the heaviness creeps in, I ask: Where is this energy coming from? Not long ago, I spent a few hours scrolling on TikTok. The next day, suicidal thoughts showed up. That’s not a coincidence. Contrast that with going to yoga this week: strangers on mats, quietly mastering their human bodies... and somehow, I felt more at home with them than I do in rooms full of family.

That’s how I know I’ve changed. My nervous system responds to alignment now. It relaxes around growth. It tenses around stagnation.

For the last four years, I’ve walked a solo journey—mastering self, unlearning everything I was told, building a belief system from scratch. Now, God is putting me in rooms so I can feel the difference. And I do.

Tension when I’m with family. Tension in old work environments. Peace among strangers in downward dog.

This is flow.

As I sat in yoga, breath uneven and body shaking to hold a pose, I realized...Even in difficulty, I felt like I was home.