Shedding old skin
This month, I finally changed the hero image on the OASIS website’s landing page.
It sounds small — a few clicks on a dashboard, a simple swap of an image — and yet, it took me far longer than I care to admit. I was deeply attached to the comfort and familiarity of the old photograph. It had been with me for years, anchoring the site in a sense of continuity and safety. Letting it go felt strangely confronting.
That image was taken three years ago. It showed a version of me with a hairstyle I no longer have, in a studio I no longer work at, wearing clothes that no longer fit my body. Since then, my work has deepened, my understanding of this field has matured, and my body has changed — shaped by time, by experience, and by a tumultuous year of grief. I no longer wear makeup the same way. After years of chemical treatments, I’ve chosen to grow my hair out in its natural colour. I look different because I am different.
People evolve — and yet, shedding old skin is rarely easy. Familiarity has a way of masquerading as safety, even when it no longer serves us. I realised that I often direct people to my website, only to have them tell me they didn’t quite recognise me in the hero image. The photograph wasn’t just outdated — it wasn’t functional anymore. It no longer reflected the person behind the work.
Still, the idea of changing it paralysed me. It wasn’t the technical act that felt heavy; it was the emotional weight of releasing an identity that once felt right, even though it no longer fit. And yet, when I finally made the change, something softened. I could breathe a little better. The new image felt more organic, more aligned with who I am now — not polished for performance, but honest in presence.
This small act became a quiet lesson: letting go doesn’t erase what came before. It honours it. It acknowledges growth. It creates space.
Sometimes, the most meaningful shifts don’t require grand gestures — just the courage to release what no longer reflects who we are becoming.
This month, I learned — again — how to let the old go.
“Growth asks us to release the skin that once protected us but no longer fits who we are becoming.”