I realized that my identity was built on outdated beliefs when it began to suffocate me. The version of myself I had outgrown—still very much in charge—convinced me that constantly seeking new horizons, new experiences, and new cities while suppressing my own growth was the right way to go. I thought I was striking a balance—expanding while staying grounded, humble.
Though my creativity and vision have always been grand, I confess that I often avoided stepping too far beyond familiar roles. I hesitated to fully disrupt, which ultimately stalled my evolution. In short, I downplayed myself. But what was worse was the toll it took on my nervous system—I constantly adjusted my emotions to maintain a sense of balance, not realizing that in doing so, I was enclosing my feelings like the smallest Matryoshka doll in the set.
Russian Nesting Dolls Doll via Alexpresss for Getty Images Signature
Realizing this and releasing an outdated self is not a single moment of clarity but a series of quiet understandings. It’s the discomfort of sitting with decisions that no longer align, the recognition that certain beliefs were inherited rather than chosen, and the uncertainty of stepping into an identity that hasn’t fully formed yet. It is a transition—a necessary one, though not always an easy one.
But life doesn’t wait for you to get it. It will step in—not gently, not softly—but in a way that leaves no room for negotiation. Though it felt tumultuous to me, it was necessary. The shedding was relentless, and while I sat in my wrongs, mourning what was, I couldn’t ignore the truths that surfaced in the process.
One of them was this: growth often requires letting go, not because people are inherently bad or because their actions were meant to harm, but because misalignment makes holding on impossible. Energy shifts, paths diverge, and what once fit so effortlessly begins to feel heavy. And that’s okay. Some connections are only meant to exist for a season, and their expiration is not a failure—it’s life unfolding as it should.
The real work is not in blaming or resenting but in recognizing when something no longer serves you and having the courage to release it. Because once the misalignment reveals itself, you cant’ unsee it. No matter how well preserved—keeping it at the “perfect” temperature and all—its expiration is inevitable. It has already soured. Not forcing things to stay; it’s about making space for what naturally belongs.
Round About in Raleigh North Carolina via Ryan Herron for Getty Images Signature
However, for a while, nothing made sense. It felt like looping endlessly in a roundabout—circling back to the same questions, overanalyzing the what-ifs, instead of exiting toward my destination.
The roundabout I’m referring to represents mental movement in 3D, but in my body, it translated into a freeze response—because when the nervous system doesn’t feel safe, it can halt forward motion entirely. This prolonged state of uncertainty and stress also triggers an increase in cortisol, keeping the body locked in survival mode.
Overriding this freeze mode required deep inner work—finding ways to reconnect with my body and gradually, safely guide myself toward the exit. A key part of this process was surrounding myself with people who emitted safety—those whose presence allowed my nervous system to relax and recalibrate. The goal was to eliminate the survival tactics of avoidance, dissociation, and overthinking—patterns that kept me circling instead of moving forward.
My shift happened in between moments of a family emergency and grief. The weight has gradually lifted, the resistance is softening. And though it once felt like a punishment—a timeout of sorts—I now understand that it was actually preparation.
Chrysalis Time lapse via Ilkay Ersoy for Getty Images Signature
What is next is nature in its finest—the chrysalis effect—the moment loss is no longer feared and the possibilities are fully embraced. I trust that what is meant for me won’t require shrinking, and that true alignment doesn’t need to be forced—it flows.
The complete surrender, the honesty it demands, and the discomfort of becoming are necessary steps in this transformation. Stepping forward with a renewed vision, a recalibrated vibration, and a balanced nervous system is not an act of blind faith—it is the beginning of the journey back to self.
For me, it’s purely intentional—a personal agreement to never abandon myself again, but instead honoring my path with an unwavering sense of clarity and conviction—not through perfection, but through the fullness of simply being human.
