The Moment I Realised I Had Become a Stranger to Myself

We all think we know who we are... until life separates who we are from who we have to become to live the life we truly want.

A few years ago, during my final year in varsity, I remember walking back to my place one day and breaking down once I finally got to my room and sat down. I don’t really know what happened... But I realised I wasn’t okay ... In fact, I don’t think I had been for a while.

I wiped my face, trying to convince myself it was just stress, that maybe I was approaching that time of the month, you know.

I sat there staring at the wall, and for the first time in my life, I stopped trying to convince myself that everything was okay.

Too scared to admit it out loud, I thought about how I didn’t know what I was doing, hell

I didn’t even know who I was becoming.

And, if I was being completely honest, I wasn’t even sure this was the life I truly wanted to begin with

I felt bare at the realisation.

Of course I didn’t expect to have my entire life figured out in my early twenties, but I couldn’t even remember ever asking myself what I truly wanted in the first place. ... I had never thought about who I was outside of the external noise or outside of wanting to make everyone around me proud.

Growing up, life had always seemed straightforward.

Finish school.

Get the degree. 

Find a stable job.

Earn enough money. Then maybe start a family?

But the more I sat down with that reality, the more I wondered if that’s what I truly wanted for myself.

Did I even want success, or did I want the safety that came with being seen as successful by those around me?

Did I want a family because it was my deepest longing, or because I had never imagined another ending?

I felt scared at finally being able to admit to myself that I was so busy living a life perfectly curated for everyone around me

that somewhere along that way I happened to leave myself behind in my own dream.

I didn't know who I was anymore.

The more honest I became, the less I recognised myself.

I let out a breath I didn't even realise I'd been holding.

The guilt hit me; my mind immediately went to my parents.

How am I going to tell them?

What kind of daughter questions the very future her parents worked so hard to make possible?

For a moment, I wanted to push the thought away. To convince myself I was just overwhelmed. That I’d wake up the next morning and everything would make sense again.

I wish I could say I discovered exactly who I was after that, but I still struggled with abandoning the comfort of the life I had planned for.

Looking back, it wasn’t as easy as suddenly waking up and finding myself with a clear path and clear answers.

But I did stop living out the version of me that brought me no joy.

I became willing to disappoint expectations, including my own.

I stopped believing that a meaningful life could be assembled by following a blueprint that I couldn't even relate to.

Some days that felt liberating, going after what I wanted 

But other days it felt terrifying when the path ahead would leave me vulnerable with uncertainty.

If anything, I left with more questions than answers. 

But I realised I couldn’t go back to moving through life on autopilot. I couldn’t keep telling myself that if I just worked harder or reached the next milestone, everything would eventually start making sense.

Even today I still don't have every answer.

There are days when I catch myself slipping back into old habits,  reaching for the version of myself that everyone else found easier to understand. I don’t think that part of me ever completely disappears.

And maybe that’s who I’m still becoming.

Not a woman who has all the answers.

But someone who is finally brave enough to ask herself the right questions.

I don’t think becoming yourself happens in a single moment. I think it happens every time you choose your own voice over the one that has been narrating your life for years.

Even I’m still learning how to hear mine.