Where Did I Go?

I used to think losing yourself was something dramatic. Something you'd notice. Like waking up one morning and thinking, "Holy smokes... everything has changed." But I've realized that short of life's biggest tragedies, that's rarely how it happens. More often than not, it happens so slowly and quietly that we don't realize it's happening until one day we look around and barely recognize ourselves... it's rarely one big moment but rather it's a thousand tiny ones.

You stop reading because there's laundry to fold.
You stop painting because the kids need rides.
You stop calling friends because you're exhausted.
You stop saying yes to the things that make you feel alive because saying no to yourself becomes easier than disappointing someone else.

Little by little, you become really good at taking care of everyone else. But somewhere along the way… you stop feeding your own spirit at all. I don't remember the exact moment I realized it had happened to me… I just remember catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror one day and thinking,

"Where did I go?"

Not because I didn't recognize the woman looking back at me, but because I couldn't remember the last time I felt like her.

The girl who laughed until she cried.
Who started projects simply because they sounded fun.
Who had opinions before she worried whether everyone would agree with them.
Who dreamed about what she wanted... instead of only thinking about what everyone else needed.
Who let things go. Truly let them go.
Who led with empathy and understanding. 
Who was quick to forgive and didn't keep score.

Where had she gone?

For a minute I yearned for who I used to be.

The happier version.
The carefree version.
The younger version.

But lately I've been wondering if that's the wrong goal altogether.

Because life changes us.
Motherhood changes us.
Heartbreak changes us.
The state of the world changes us.
Responsibility changes us.

It isn't aging that's the problem, and I don't actually want to go backward… Gosh, just imagine being twenty again… No, I think the goal is simply to understand ourselves again. Because maybe that girl you yearn for isn't gone.

Maybe she's just been buried...

Buried beneath routines.
Expectations.
Mental checklists.
Invisible labor.
People pleasing.
Trying to be everything for everyone.

But buried doesn't mean gone. It means there's something worth uncovering. 

Because another thing I've learned over the past few years is that finding yourself usually isn't one big moment either.

It's often tiny.
And awkward.
And weird.
And hard.

But also fun.
And exciting.
And new.

It's laughing until your stomach hurts.
Buying the concert tickets.
Reading one chapter.
Taking the long walk.
Starting the hobby.
Wearing the outfit you've been saving.
Ordering the dessert.
Calling the friend.
Pausing before reacting.
Saying, "Actually... I think I'd rather..." Instead of just agreeing.

It's remembering that you're a person, too. Living this life for the first time, just like everyone else is.

That’s why I’ve come to the realization that maybe we're not nearly as lost as we think we are. Maybe we've simply spent so much time managing life and what everyone else needed—both perceived and real… that we forgot we're someone worth getting to know, too.

Maybe this next chapter isn't about finding yourself. Maybe it's about reintroducing yourself to the person you've been becoming all along.

♡