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Week 137: Trying On Myself Without Her: Rediscovering Identity After Losing My Daughter

 



Rebuilding Identity After Loss

Lately, I’ve been spending hours trying to figure out what colors look good on me.

I hold up fabric swatches to my face in the mirror. Warm or cool? Autumn or Winter? Olive skin or just bad lighting? I click through endless YouTube videos about Kibbe body types, staring at women explaining bone structure and yin/yang balance like it’s some secret code to unlocking the real me. It’s become its own kind of ritual—comparing necklines, scrolling through capsule wardrobes, wondering which version of myself I’m supposed to be now.

It might seem shallow—or at least frivolous. And maybe it is. But right now, it’s easier to be authentic on the outside than to face how lost I feel on the inside.

Losing Her—and Myself

Since losing my daughter, the person I was has gone missing. She took whole pieces of me with her. And so now, I’m hunting for identity in strange places—like in the shape of a sleeve, the drape of a fabric, the difference between camel and taupe. It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, but there’s something comforting about it. I can’t fix my grief, but maybe I can fix my outfit.

She Didn’t Need a Palette—She Was One

My daughter, on the other hand, was the most authentic person I’ve ever known.

She had special needs, yes—but more than that, she had strong opinions and zero hesitation. If she liked something, it was an immediate, emphatic yes. If she didn’t, she’d make it known. There was no pretending with her, no performance. Just a clear, bright flame of personality. Her choices weren’t edited to make anyone else comfortable—they were true to her, every time.

She didn’t need a color palette. She was a palette.

Searching for Her Clarity in My Reflection

Sometimes I think that’s why I’m so fixated on all of this right now. I’m trying on clothes and color palettes not just to find my reflection—but to get closer to hers. Her clarity. Her confidence. Her way of knowing what fit and what didn’t—on her body, in her life, in her heart.

I keep holding colors up to my skin, wondering which ones make me look more alive. But really, I think I’m just trying to see myself again. Not the version of me before the grief, but whoever I am now that she’s gone. Whoever I have to become without her.

Piece by Piece, Stitch by Stitch

She always saw me. She never needed words to reflect that back. And now that she’s not here, I feel like I have to squint into the mirror and piece myself together from scraps—of fabric, of memory, of color.

Maybe none of this will bring her back. Maybe I’ll never get my style “right” or land on the perfect palette. But maybe it’s not about getting it right.

Maybe it’s just about showing up in front of the mirror, again and again, until something starts to feel like me.
Maybe that’s how I try on myself—without her.

Let’s Talk About It

I’d really love to hear from you.

If you’ve been through loss—any kind, really—have you found small ways to reconnect with yourself?
Is there something you’ve done that helped you feel even a little more like you again?
Maybe it was a new routine, a favorite song, a certain color that just felt right, or just getting dressed with intention.

Feel free to share in the comments—I’d be honored to read it.
Sometimes it helps to know we’re not the only ones trying to find ourselves again.


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