Year of the Snake: Shedding the Identity That Once Kept Me Safe
Transparency note: This post was written with the support of AI tools to help with drafting and clarity. All ideas, edits, and final wording reflect my own voice, my values and align with my therapeutic approach and professional standards.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the Year of the Snake. Not in the trendy, “new year new me” kind of way. But in the way that feels ancient and true: shedding what no longer fits, even when it hurts. Even when you’re not sure who you’ll be without it. Because that’s what this year has been for me.
A shedding and a quiet unraveling. A long goodbye to a version of myself that carried me for a long time, protected me, even, until one day I realized I couldn’t live inside that skin anymore.
After 24 years in corporate, I’ve made the decision to step fully into my work as a therapist. I’m leaving behind a career that shaped me, challenged me, and gave me so much… and I’m walking toward something that feels more human, more honest, and more aligned than anything I’ve ever done.
But I want to say this clearly: This has not been easy. Not even close.
The Breakdown That Changed Everything
In May, I had what I can only describe as a mental health breakdown, after a large corporate restructure. I felt like my body was waving a flag that my mind had been ignoring for years. I wasn’t just tired. I wasn’t just stressed. I felt like something in me had reached a limit. Like my system couldn’t keep doing what it had been trained to do: push through, stay strong, and stay productive. And what surprised me most was this: even after that… I still wasn’t ready to quit. Not because I didn’t want to but because my nervous system wasn’t ready. I did take 3-month mental health leave from work. I tried everything to get better - tons of therapy, vagus nerve stimulation at Wellspace, going to Othership for sauna and ice plunges, taking it easy and very slow, and finally, anxiety medication (for the first time in my life). It took a while, but I got better. Yet, I still wasn’t ready to leave my corporate identity.
My Nervous System Wasn’t Ready to Let Go Yet
This is the part I think so many people don’t understand about change: you can know something is right, and still feel unable to do it. Because our nervous systems don’t respond to logic. They respond to safety. Corporate life, for all its pressure, had become familiar, predictable and structured. A place where I knew the rules and a place where I knew how to succeed. Even when it cost me, even when it depleted me, even when it slowly pulled me away from myself. I think part of me believed that leaving would mean falling.
Like stepping away from the identity I built would mean I’d lose everything I worked so hard for.
And if I’m being really honest…I didn’t just fear losing the job. I feared losing the me who knew how to survive.
Six Months of Small Safety
It took me over six months to get to the decision. I wasn’t being indecisive. My nervous system simply needed time to get used to the crazy idea of leaving a very well-paying job that I have done for so long. I needed small cues of safety, slowly building over time, like stepping stones.
Little moments like:
feeling my shoulders drop when I imagined a different life
realizing how alive I felt after a session with a client
noticing how drained I felt after pretending I was fine
letting myself admit that successful didn’t always mean well
recognizing that the life I built was impressive… but I wasn’t in it anymore
And then in December, something in me finally clicked. I realized, I can’t keep abandoning myself. So I chose me.
The Part of Me That Needed to Be Strong
There’s another layer to this that I’ve been sitting with. My attachment patterns. My “how I learned to be in the world.” Due to my childhood trauma, I’ve always had avoidant tendencies, the part of me that learned to be strong, capable, independent, not too needy, not too emotional.
The part that learned early:
Don’t fall apart.
Handle it.
Prove yourself.
Achieve.
Keep going.
And for a long time, that part served me. It helped me build a career and it helped me succeed. It helped me survive. But it also came with a cost. Because when you live in that kind of strength, you start to believe that your worth is something you earn. That rest is something you justify. That softness is something you delay until you’ve deserved it. And when your identity becomes built on achievement, letting go of achievement feels like free-falling. It feels like losing the ground underneath you.
What I Had to Let Go Of
I had to let go of things that used to matter so much to me:
titles
income security
recognition
being the one who always delivers
external validation
the high-achieving version of myself that looked confident from the outside
And I want to say this with compassion: I don’t judge that part of me. That part was trying to protect me. It was trying to make sure I’d never be overlooked, never be dismissed, never be not enough. But the longer I held onto that identity, the more I realized: it wasn’t just a career. It was a way of regulating my nervous system, a way of feeling safe, a way of proving I mattered. And letting go of that… has been one of the most freeing things I’ve ever done. Because for the first time, I’m not chasing worthiness.
I’m living.
Coming Home to the Work That Feels Like Me
Therapy isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t come with applause. It doesn’t come with performance reviews. There’s no gold star for holding space for someone’s grief, or sitting quietly with their pain, or helping them find themselves again. But there is something else, something deeper, something real. In this work, I feel in flow. Not because it’s easy, but because it feels true and because I’m not performing.
I’m present.
And in a world that constantly asks us to be more productive, more impressive, more together… choosing presence feels like rebellion. Choosing humanity feels like coming home.
If You’re In Your Own Identity Shift
If you’re reading this and you’re in your own transition, career change, burnout, motherhood, divorce, grief, healing, aging, awakening, please hear me:
If it feels hard, it doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. Sometimes change is hard because your nervous system is doing what it was designed to do: protect you from uncertainty. And sometimes the bravest thing isn’t quitting tomorrow. Sometimes the bravest thing is staying close to yourself long enough to hear the truth underneath the fear. The part of you that says: this doesn’t fit anymore.
I’m Here If You Want Support
If you’re moving through a career change, burnout, or identity shift and you want a space to untangle it gently, without pressure or shame, I’m here.
In therapy, we can explore:
what your nervous system is communicating through anxiety, shutdown, or overwhelm
the attachment patterns that shape your relationship with achievement, independence, and worth
the grief that comes with letting go of an old identity
how to build safety in the unknown
how to move toward a life that feels aligned, not just performative
You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to be willing to begin. And if you’re in the middle of your own shedding season… I want you to know:
You’re not alone.
Dagmara Guy is a Registered Psychotherapist (Qualifying) based in Toronto and the founder of TrueSpace Psychotherapy. She is a psychodynamic and attachment-oriented therapist who explores how early relationships shape the nervous system, identity, and our capacity for connection. Her work weaves together depth psychology, trauma-informed care, and nervous system–informed approaches to support clients in moving from survival patterns toward greater regulation, self-trust, and wholeness. With a warm, relational presence and deep respect for the body’s wisdom, Dagmara helps clients gently uncover the roots beneath symptoms, making space for healing, meaning, and lasting inner change.
