I abandon thoughts that no longer serve me.

Some of what you are still carrying was useful once. The habit of scanning a room for the mood of the loudest person in it. The reflex that stops you asking for things. These were not stupid. They were solutions, built fast, by someone with far less room to move than you have now.

A coat bought for a colder country is not a bad coat. It is just heavy in this weather.

What has outlived its job rarely announces itself, because it still feels like caution, or realism, or knowing yourself. The test is not whether it sounds wise. It is whether it is still protecting you from something that is still there.