“Love is the expression of the one who loves, not of the one who is loved.”

— Søren Kierkegaard

What does it mean to remain “yourself”? At first glance, it seems obvious: your name, face, or personality might evolve, but some core essence feels unshakable.

Yet, if you were to change your values, memories, or habits entirely, would you still be “you”?

This paradox isn’t just an abstract exercise. It’s a question that quietly shapes your relationships, identity, and even your sense of morality.

Whether you realize it or not, you wrestle with it every day: in your friendships, when loved ones grow apart; in your career, as you adapt to new roles; and in the mirror, as time carves changes into your face.

The Ship of Theseus: A Metaphor for Identity

Imagine a wooden ship, repaired plank by plank, until every original piece has been replaced.

Philosophers call this the Ship of Theseus, and they ask: is it still the same ship?

The Ship of Theseus is more than a riddle; it’s a metaphor for personal identity.

Every few years, your cells regenerate, your preferences shift, and your memories fade or warp.

Are you like that ship—rebuilt over time, yet still “you”?

Or is the “real” you lost in the changes?

When someone you love changes fundamentally—due to time, trauma, or self-discovery—can you still claim to love them unconditionally?

Or do you love only the “planks” they once were?

Hume’s Theory of Identity as a Mental Construct

David Hume offered a more radical perspective on identity, challenging the idea that it is grounded in any inherent, continuous essence.

In his A Treatise of Human Nature, Hume argued that identity is not something intrinsic to an object but rather a mental construct shaped by perception.

For Hume, we perceive the Ship of Theseus as the same ship not because it retains its original parts, but because of the continuity we associate with it through our experiences and memories.

The ship’s identity, therefore, is not fixed or permanent; it is instead fluid, shaped by our ongoing interactions and perceptions.

This view suggests that what we consider as “identity” is subjective, created in the mind, and reliant on our mental coherence rather than on physical continuity.

The Layers of Identity: A Practical Breakdown

Let’s break this down into components of identity and see how they endure or dissolve over time:

Aspect of Identity	Can It Change?	Impact on “You”
Physical appearance	Yes (aging, surgery, etc.)	Usually perceived as surface-level; does not redefine the “self.”
Beliefs and values	Often (due to experiences)	Major shifts here can make others see you as a “new person.”
Memories	Partially (forgetting, altering)	Strong connection to identity; losing them can erode the sense of self.
Behavior and habits	Easily (with effort or neglect)	Affects how others perceive “you,” but not always considered core to identity.
Personality traits	Gradually (environment, growth)	Slow change can feel natural, but drastic shifts may seem like becoming someone else.

This framework helps explain why relationships, even deep ones, can falter.

If someone’s beliefs or behavior change drastically, they may no longer feel like the same person to you.

But if you understand identity as fluid rather than fixed, the concept of unconditional love takes on a new meaning.

Unconditional Love: A Test of Change

According to Kierkegaard, love isn’t rooted in the unchanging qualities of the other person but in your capacity to love.

If your love is conditional—tied to traits like kindness, humor, or loyalty—it crumbles when those traits disappear.

This idea is also explored in Her, the 2013 film directed by Spike Jonze.

In the movie, Theodore who is in the midst of a lonely divorce forms a deep, emotional bond with an AI named Samantha.

As Samantha evolves and begins to surpass human limitations, Theodore is faced with the reality that the person he loves is changing in ways he cannot keep up with.

Their relationship challenges the very notion of unconditional love and asks whether love can truly exist when one person (or one entity) is constantly transforming.

By the end of the film, Theodore finds acceptance in Samantha’s growth, realizing that love, like life itself, requires adaptation and the willingness to embrace change

What Songs Teach Us About Change

A song that beautifully explores the theme of change is “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac.

In the song, Stevie Nicks sings, “Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’ ’cause I built my life around you.”

These lyrics capture the inner conflict that arises when we face the inevitability of change, especially in relationships.

The song reflects the vulnerability of loving someone as they transform, acknowledging that change can be both unsettling and necessary.

Just like the song suggests, if you hold onto a rigid idea of who someone is or should be, you may struggle with their evolution.

However, if you embrace their growth as part of their journey, you can find peace, just as the song eventually reveals: “But time makes you bolder, children get older, I’m getting older too.”

My Story: A Sister’s Transformation

I remember watching my older sister change in ways I never expected.

She was once the life of every party, with an easygoing charm that drew people in. But after a few breakups, she became quieter, more introspective, and sometimes impatient—a far cry from the sister I’d grown up idolizing.

At first, I resented this “new” version of her. I missed the carefree person she used to be. Then, one day, she said something that stayed with me: “I haven’t stopped being me; I’ve just found a different way to be.”

That’s when I realized the problem wasn’t her—it was me, holding onto an outdated version of who she was.

Once I started appreciating the person she was becoming, our bond deepened.

It wasn’t about unconditional love; it was about choosing to embrace the changes that life had brought.

Closing Thoughts

Loving someone—or even yourself—isn’t about freezing them in time.

It’s about committing to the process of growth and change, even when it challenges your expectations.

Identity, like the Ship of Theseus, isn’t static. It’s built and rebuilt, sometimes in ways you can’t predict or control.

To paraphrase Oscar Wilde: “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” And that romance is one of continual rediscovery.