Everyone "Used to Be Somebody"
How to stop letting “I used to” turn into shame, and turn regret into a comeback plan.
There’s a specific kind of regret that doesn’t get talked about enough.
It’s not the regret of never trying, it’s the regret of knowing you were capable, proving it to yourself, living inside that version of you, and then slowly letting it fade until it feels like it happened to someone else.
You were in shape, then life got busy…
You missed a week, then a month, then the mirror started telling the truth you didn’t want to hear.
You were sober…
You stacked days into months, months into years, you rebuilt your sleep, your mind, your relationships, and your money. Then you got comfortable, curious, cocky, and bored; then the thing you beat crept in.
Now you look backward at both with that gut-punch thought, “If I had just kept going… where would I be right now?”
(If it isn’t obvious, I’m using myself as the example here; your “thing” will be unique to you, these are two areas I crushed, then let slide.)
That thought can sharpen you into action, or rot you into shame.
Most people pick shame because it feels like “paying for it,” like self-hatred is a form of justice.
It isn’t; it’s just wasted energy with a righteous mask on.
Regret is painful, but it isn’t useless.
If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t feel it.
Regret is your system telling you, “That mattered. That version of you was real. That standard was right. You felt so good, then you quit.”
The problem is what most people do next, and that’s turning their regret into a courtroom proceeding...
You’ll put yourself on trial, replay the evidence, list the failures, and sentence yourself to a life of “Yeah, but I already ruined it; I used to be somebody, and I’ll never get there again…” That’s where the real damage happens.
You don’t mourn the progress you lost; you start to believe you’re the kind of person who always loses and can never recover the fire and pride you once had.
“Used to” is a tricky phrase.
It sounds productive, like it’s pointing to wisdom, but most of the time, it’s a disguised attempt to time-travel.
“If I had just stuck with it…” Yeah, “If”, but you didn’t, and you can’t go back and babysit the version of you who made different choices under different stress, different pressure, different sleep, different relationships, and different responsibilities.
You’re not that guy anymore; you’re this guy reading here now, with awareness you didn’t have then, and consequences you do have now.
You used to do things differently, better even, and you’re still the same person who can still do incredible things, if you get your head out of the self-loathing gutter.
So the real question you need to be asking yourself isn’t “What would my life look like if I never fell off?” The real question is, “What am I going to do with the fact that I fell off and I’m still here..?”
That’s where growth lives.
Life is more than perfect streaks and flawless discipline.
The real beauty of transformation lies in the moment when you stop begging the past to be different and start using the present like a weapon.
When you’ve been strong before, fit before, sober before, focused before, you are not a beginner; you’re a man with receipts.
You know what works, you know what it feels like, you know the warning signs, you know the patterns that lead to drift, and you know the excuses you use when you’re trying to disappear from responsibility.
That isn’t nothing…
That’s an advantage.
Shame will try to convince you that because you lost the progress, you lost your identity, and that’s false.
You didn’t lose who you are; you lost your maintenance as you stopped feeding the thing you built.
Most people don’t fall off because one day they wake up and choose chaos.
They fall off because they start making tiny deals with themselves. “I’ll get back at it next week.” “I deserve a break.” “It’s not that serious.” “I’ve earned this.” “I’m fine...”
That’s the voice of drift.
Drift is dangerous because it’s quiet, so it doesn’t feel like self-destruction; it feels like relief, until one day you look up and realize you traded your edge for comfort, one small bargain at a time.
That’s why the thought, “I’d be so far ahead by now” is a trap.
