The Full Moon Effect: You're Allowed to Change
When the person you've become no longer fits the life you once created.
There's something fascinating about werewolves. In almost every story, there's this moment when the full moon appears, and the transformation begins. The person everyone recognizes starts changing. Their body shifts, their instincts take over, and suddenly, they're no longer who they were just moments before.
And everybody is terrified.
Now, I'm not suggesting that we're all secretly growing fur and howling at the moon, although some days might make you wonder. 😂 But there's something about the werewolf story that got me thinking about how we respond to change, particularly when the person changing is someone we've known for years.
We expect people to grow. We encourage them to heal, to learn, to experience life, and to become better versions of themselves. But what happens when that growth changes how they show up in relationships? What happens when the person who always said yes begins saying no? When the person who once tolerated certain behaviors no longer finds them acceptable? Or when the dreams, values, and expectations that once guided someone's life no longer fit the person they've become?
Suddenly, the change we said we wanted becomes uncomfortable.
And sometimes, just like in those old werewolf movies, everybody starts acting like there's a monster in the room.
We Are Not Who We Used to Be
Think about who you were ten years ago. Maybe even five years ago. Consider what mattered to you, what you believed, the things you tolerated, and the decisions you made based on what you understood about yourself and the world at that time.
Are you still that person?
I would hope not entirely.
Life has a way of changing us. Relationships, parenthood, marriage, divorce, grief, illness, career changes, disappointment, joy, loss, education, and even the ordinary experiences of getting older can shift how we understand ourselves.
Sometimes those changes happen gradually. Other times, one experience changes everything.
We learn things we didn't know before. We recognize patterns we couldn't see. We begin questioning beliefs we once accepted without hesitation. And sometimes, we discover that the life we've built no longer reflects the person living it.
Yet we often continue holding ourselves, and one another, accountable to decisions made by versions of ourselves who had different experiences, different needs, and different understandings of the world.
Why?
Why do we assume that because something worked for us at twenty-five, it should still work at forty-five or sixty-five? Why do we expect relationships to operate according to agreements made before either person experienced the changes that life would eventually bring?
And perhaps more importantly, why does changing our minds sometimes feel like we're breaking a promise?
The Unspoken Contracts We Make
Whether we realize it or not, many of our relationships operate according to expectations that were established long ago.
Some of those expectations were discussed openly. Others were never spoken at all.
Maybe you've always been the person everyone calls when there's a problem. The one who organizes the family gatherings, remembers birthdays, helps financially, provides emotional support, or makes sure everybody else is okay.
Perhaps you've been the agreeable partner, the dependable friend, the responsible sibling, or the child who never caused trouble.
Over time, people become accustomed to those roles. They begin to expect certain things from us, and we begin to expect those things from ourselves.
And for a while, those arrangements may have worked.
But what happens when life changes?
What happens when the caregiver begins needing care? When the person who always made sacrifices starts recognizing their own needs? When the partner who once prioritized everyone else's happiness begins questioning what happiness looks like for them?
Sometimes the people around us struggle to adjust because our growth requires them to reconsider the roles they've grown comfortable with.
And sometimes we struggle because those roles have become so deeply connected to our identities that changing them feels like losing a part of ourselves.
This is where the work becomes more complicated than simply setting boundaries.
We're not just changing a behavior. We may be challenging an entire understanding of who we are and how we belong.
When Growth Feels Like Betrayal
One of the things I've come to appreciate about psychodynamic thinking is the invitation to consider how our earlier experiences continue influencing our present relationships.
We don't enter adulthood as blank slates. We bring with us lessons about love, loyalty, responsibility, conflict, safety, and belonging.
Some of those lessons were taught directly. Others developed through observation and experience.
If you grew up believing that love meant sacrifice, choosing yourself may feel selfish. If being dependable was how you maintained connection, saying no may bring guilt. If keeping the peace helped you feel safe, speaking up may create anxiety, even when you know your concerns are valid.
And sometimes these expectations are connected to family traditions, cultural values, gender roles, and the ways our communities have understood responsibility across generations.
For many of us, honoring family and showing up for others are meaningful values. There's beauty in that. But we can value those traditions while also asking whether the ways we've practiced them still support our well-being.
Changing doesn't necessarily mean rejecting where we came from.
Sometimes it means reconsidering how we carry those values forward.
And that's where guilt can enter the conversation.
Because when you've spent years being a particular person for everybody else, becoming someone different can feel like you're letting them down.
But are you betraying them, or are you finally acknowledging something about yourself that you've been ignoring?
Everybody Loves the Transformation Until It Changes the Relationship
Here's something I've noticed about personal growth.
People often celebrate change when it benefits them.
We encourage someone to become more confident, but we may feel uncomfortable when that confidence leads them to disagree with us. We tell people to establish boundaries, but we don't always appreciate being on the receiving end of those boundaries. We encourage independence, but sometimes struggle when someone no longer depends on us in familiar ways.
And we can be guilty of this ourselves.
We may want the people in our lives to grow, but still expect them to remain recognizable and predictable.
There's comfort in familiarity. Even when a relationship isn't functioning particularly well, we at least know what to expect.
Change introduces uncertainty.
When one person begins shifting, the relationship may need to shift too. Expectations may need to be discussed. Responsibilities may need to be redistributed. Old agreements may need to be reconsidered.
And not everyone welcomes that process.
Sometimes people respond to our growth with confusion, frustration, resistance, or grief. They may genuinely miss the way things used to be.
That doesn't automatically make them controlling or unsupportive. Change can be difficult for everyone involved.
But their discomfort doesn't necessarily mean our growth is wrong.
What If the Old Version of You Was Doing the Best They Could?
I think we also need to extend some compassion to the people we used to be.
It's easy to look back and question why we tolerated certain situations, made particular decisions, or remained committed to things that no longer make sense to us.
But we have to remember that we were making those choices with the understanding, resources, emotional capacity, and experiences we had at the time.
Maybe that version of you needed stability. Maybe belonging mattered more than independence. Maybe you were trying to protect your family, survive a difficult season, or create a sense of security.
Those choices may have served an important purpose.
And just because they no longer fit doesn't mean they were mistakes.
Something can have been right for a season of your life without being right for the rest of it.
We can appreciate what an earlier version of ourselves created without requiring our present selves to remain confined to it.
We can honor the past without continuing to live according to every expectation it established.
And we can recognize that changing our minds is sometimes evidence that we've learned something.
Not Every Transformation Is Growth
Now, before we start blaming everything on the full moon, I do want to acknowledge something important.
Not every change is necessarily healthy.
Sometimes our experiences lead us to become more guarded, withdrawn, reactive, or disconnected. Trauma, grief, disappointment, and prolonged stress can change how we relate to ourselves and others.
We may describe those changes as growth when, in some situations, they are actually ways we've learned to protect ourselves.
That doesn't mean those responses are wrong or shameful. It means they're worth understanding.
For example, becoming more selective about relationships may reflect healthier boundaries. But avoiding emotional closeness altogether because we're afraid of being hurt may deserve further exploration.
The goal isn't simply to become different.
It's to become more aware of why we're changing, what those changes mean, and whether they're helping us live in greater alignment with our values and emotional needs.
And sometimes we need support in sorting through that.
You Don't Have to Wait for a Full Moon
One of the most interesting things about werewolf stories is that transformation happens whether the person is ready for it or not.
But in our own lives, we have opportunities to become more intentional about the changes we're experiencing.
We can begin noticing when familiar roles feel uncomfortable. We can question expectations that no longer make sense. We can have conversations about how our needs have changed.
And we can give the people around us opportunities to get to know who we're becoming.
That doesn't mean everyone will understand. It doesn't mean every relationship will survive in its original form. And it certainly doesn't mean change will be easy.
But remaining committed to a version of yourself that no longer reflects who you are can come with its own emotional cost.
Sometimes the most meaningful growth begins when we stop asking how to return to who we used to be and start becoming curious about who we are now.
A Little Full Moon Reflection
As we continue through spooky season, I want to invite you to think about the transformations you've experienced in your own life.
Pause: Who were you when you established some of the expectations, commitments, and relationships you're still navigating today? What was happening in your life at that time?
Process: How have your experiences changed you? Are there roles, responsibilities, or beliefs that once made sense but no longer fit? What feelings come up when you imagine doing things differently?
Plan: What is one conversation, boundary, or adjustment you could make that would allow your present life to better reflect the person you've become?
You don't have to abandon everything you've built. And you don't have to dismiss the people or experiences that helped shape you.
But you are allowed to reconsider what still belongs.
Because the person you were ten years ago didn't know everything you know today. They hadn't experienced everything you've experienced. They hadn't survived every challenge, celebrated every accomplishment, or learned every lesson that has brought you to this moment.
So why should that version of you be responsible for deciding how you must live forever?
Maybe the real transformation isn't becoming someone entirely new.
Maybe it's finally giving yourself permission to live as the person you've been becoming all along.
And if that makes a few people howl at the moon?
Well, it is spooky season. 🐺
At Blossoming Hope Counseling & Consulting, psychotherapy offers space to explore how our experiences, relationships, and unconscious patterns shape who we are and how we navigate the world. Growth isn't always about leaving the past behind. Sometimes it's about understanding it well enough to make different choices in the present.
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