Does Anyone Actually Know What It Feels Like to Feel Like Yourself?

Does anyone even know what it actually feels like to feel like yourself?

Because I have not felt like myself lately.

And, of course, my anxiety would love to take that information and immediately write an entire fucking screenplay about everything going wrong.

But I had another thought.

What if I don't feel like myself because things are finally going right?

I've been shedding old habits. Rewiring my thinking. Becoming much more intentional about the content I consume, the people I surround myself with, where I put my energy, and what I allow to take up space in my life.

And it occurred to me:

I may not feel like myself because I haven't completely grown into who that is yet.

Well, shit.

Because what does me actually look like now?

How do I respond to things when my nervous system is more regulated?

How do I show up when I'm more focused on choosing myself than reading the room?

What happens when I'm not hypervigilant about everybody else's feelings, reactions, energy, opinions, or expectations?

I genuinely don't know yet.

And going back to the old status quo isn't something I'm interested in either. That doesn't feel like me anymore.

It's like leaving an old house before the new house is built.

You can't go back. You don't live there anymore.

But you're also standing there with your shit in boxes like...

Okay. Where the fuck do I live now?

That's what this season feels like.

And I think that's also why so much of the content I share resonates with people. I'm not coming to you from the mountaintop with a ten-step system for how I figured my entire life out.

Absolutely not.

I'm coming to you more like a scientist with an experiment.

I have a hypothesis.

I'm testing it in real life.

I'm learning what it actually feels like to adapt my thoughts and behaviors while I'm doing it, and I'm watching the ripple effect those changes create in my life and in the lives around me.

Some experiments go beautifully.

Some blow up the fucking lab.

Both give me data.

And if there is one hill I will die on, it's this:

The first steps of change are the pause and the observation.

You need the stop—what the fuck is actually going on here? moment.

Because you can't intentionally change something you're moving through automatically.

But I think curiosity is what propels us forward.

What else is out there?

Does it have to happen this way?

Is there another way to think about this?

Is this actually what I believe—or is it something I learned?

Do I even want this anymore?

What haven't I considered yet?

There is so much power in realizing there isn't one way to do any of this.

The world isn't linear.

Healing isn't linear.

Growth sure as hell isn't linear.

There are ways of seeing things that haven't even crossed my desk yet.

And I get to find them.

I get to decide what stays.

I get to question what goes.

I get to try something different and see what happens.

I get to be the curator of my own reality instead of assuming the reality I learned is the only one available to me.

And that requires curiosity.

So no, I don't entirely feel like myself right now.

But I'm becoming less convinced that's a problem.

The old house isn't mine anymore.

The new one isn't finished.

I think I'm somewhere in between, looking around and deciding what I actually want to build.

And for the first time, I'm less interested in rushing to figure out who I'm supposed to be.

I'm much more curious about who I haven't met yet.