Transitions: When the Mirror Doesn’t Quite Match

Learning to let your outward life catch up with who you are becoming

According to Brad Stulberg in Mastering the Art of Change, we undergo a significant life transition roughly every 18 months.

That stopped me in my tracks.

Every 18 months? That means we are almost always in some form of becoming a different version of ourselves.

Some transitions are obvious and dramatic — like job status, the death of a loved one, a diagnosis, marriage, or a baby. Others are quieter: evolving relationships, a child graduating, or a new pet. Some transitions arrive gradually, like the slow realization that our body is aging, and others literally happen overnight.

Each one changes us:

The way we see ourselves.

The way we see everything around us.

What we have time for.

What feels true.

All of us have probably said at one time or another: “I was never the same after that”.

Because we never are.

When the Outside Doesn’t Match the Inside

If we are always changing, it’s no wonder when we see ourselves in a photograph that we might get taken a little off guard. Who is that? That’s not quite how I see myself in my mind’s eye.

Maybe it’s because the outside hasn’t caught up with the inside. It’s not always obvious how to make the two align.

This is part of what makes personal style so interesting — and also frustrating, and daunting. The clothes that once felt right may start to feel off. The haircut that felt perfect for many years may start to feel like it belongs to someone else. The makeup that once looked youthful and vibrant may now just accentuate the lack of it.

Then, there’s the guilt.

We spend hard-earned money on our clothes, makeup and hair. Even if something was inexpensive, it’s hard to say goodbye to what fulfilled a need. Letting go of something you once loved can feel like admitting something is wrong — with what you chose or with you.

But what if nothing is wrong? What if you’ve simply changed?

The Season I’m In

Our sweet newborn and her newly minted Nana

Recently, I entered a new season:

I became a grandmother for the first time. It’s been one of the most joyous seasons of life that I’ve been blessed to experience.

A few days after she arrived, we had a family “meet and greet” for this sweet little one. Later, when I was looking through the photos, I felt an unexpected jolt. Seeing myself in the pictures did not quite match how I see myself internally — especially my hair. I cut my hair over a year ago, and I’ve loved having shorter hair. Yet now, I’m not so sure if this is “me” after all.

Is this the making of an identity crisis?

Not really. It’s just that “grandmother” is indeed a new identity, and with it come all my internalized ideas (maybe even fears) about what this phase of life looks like. Many of them have been shaped by my own dear grandmothers.

I’ve noticed that when I sit in front of the mirror, I sometimes catch a glimpse of my grandmother looking back at me. My skin is less elastic (a polite way of saying jowls have made their debut). My hair continues to fade and gray. Time is doing what time does.

My grandparents with my sister circa 1963. Both grandmas were in their 50's.

Thankfully, the expectations of what this is supposed to look like has changed. One of my grandmothers never wore pants. I only remember her in a house dress — I haven’t heard that expression in years! I wouldn’t mind wearing a dress around the house sometimes, but it wouldn’t be the kind that I remember being reserved for grandmas! Hats off to my mother-in-law, who wore jeans well into her eighties.

I’m so glad there are no special sections in the stores for grandmas. There aren’t any imposed restrictions on what we can wear when we enter this phase of life .

Still, here I am — getting used to an aging body and a new title. It’s no wonder the inside and outside feel a little incongruous.

Why This Matters for Style

We all know women who seem stuck in a particular era — the same hair, the same makeup, the same silhouettes decade after decade. There may be many reasons for that: lack of time, bandwidth, or money. Or perhaps they need to hold onto a version of themselves from a particular season, almost like preserving something in a time capsule. Our firm grip may be on a past version of ourselves, or a season of life we can’t let go.

In my family, we joke about how certain members keep clothing for 10 or 20 years (I’ve definitely been in this group sometimes). Truly, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. Longevity can be wise and practical.

However, if it matters to you — and you feel friction when you get dressed, if you feel slightly disconnected when you see yourself in photos like I did  — it’s okay to acknowledge that something has shifted.

Holding on too tightly to who you were can create unnecessary resistance to who you are becoming.

Embracing change doesn’t mean erasing your past. It means integrating it:

Who you have been.

Who you are right now.

Who you are becoming.

The Hair Question

I’ve grown out my hair and cut it short more times than I can count in my 59 years. Once again, I’m contemplating growing it out. One thing I’ve come to realize is that by the time it grows, I may look in the mirror and say, that’s not who I am anymore.

Then, I will cut it.

That’s not instability. That’s responsiveness.

The Takeaway

We shouldn’t beat ourselves up when what once suited us gradually — or suddenly — does not.

We are not static beings. We are women moving through a lifetime of seasons. Our circumstances shape us. Our losses shape us. Our joys shape us. Our bodies change. Our roles grow. Our identities evolve. It makes sense that our style would need to evolve too.

Wrestling with these shifts — and embracing who you are right now — is what makes personal style meaningful. It's not just for fun, or merely expressive, but integrative.

The goal has never been to remain the same. Maybe the goal should be to let the outside gently catch up with the inside, again and again, as long as we are alive.

Where might the outside of your life — or your wardrobe — still be reflecting a version of you that has begun to change?