Over the last year I realized something that kinda sucks: somewhere along the way I lost myself.
I made choices I really regret. Did things I never thought I’d do. Turned into someone I barely recognized in the mirror. Not because I was trying to be someone else on purpose, but because life just keeps piling shit on you. Responsibilities, expectations, all the roles you’re supposed to play until you can’t even see what’s left underneath.
One night I caught my reflection and just froze. The person looking back was like a shadow. Hollow eyes, tired face, someone who looked familiar but felt totally off. I stood there thinking, “When the hell did you start doing stuff that doesn’t even match who you are? When did you change this much?”
It hit me hard. Not in some big dramatic way, but in a heavy, quiet one that made it hard to breathe for a minute.
For a while I thought losing myself was straight-up failure. Like I’d fucked up by letting it happen.
But now I’m starting to see it differently.
Sometimes you have to lose yourself before you can find yourself again.
These past several months I’ve been trying to peel all that crap back. Figuring out what actually matters to me versus what I was just carrying because other people needed me to. Questioning beliefs I held onto forever. Setting boundaries I didn’t even know I’d let slip away. Sorting through which parts were real me and which parts were just… obligation.
I’ve spent most of my life being someone’s friend, someone’s support, someone’s whatever-they-needed. Those things mean a lot to me, they really do. But somewhere in all that I stopped asking the simplest question:
Who am I when nobody needs anything from me?
The answer is still messy. Still coming together piece by piece. Some days it scares me. But it’s mine.
I’m finding a woman who’s stronger than I thought, softer than I let myself be for a long time, and way more resilient than I ever gave myself credit for.
Growth isn’t always pretty. A lot of times it looks like mistakes. Walking away from shit that wasn’t good for me. Admitting I was wrong. Sitting in the uncomfortable silence and figuring out who I actually am when the noise dies down.
And the craziest part?
I’ve fallen in love with the most important person in my life.
Myself.
Not in some arrogant “I’m amazing” way.
Just in a quiet, still-healing way.
The kind that comes from finally giving myself the same grace and patience I’ve always given everyone else.
I’m still learning. Still screwing up sometimes. Still rediscovering pieces of me I forgot even existed.
But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m finding my way home.