There’s a particular kind of transformation that doesn’t feel inspiring while you’re inside it. It feels disorienting. Like losing the internal structure that once helped you feel coherent. And sometimes what we call “losing ourselves” is actually the dissolution of a performance, an identity architecture, a way of being perceived that once helped us survive, belong, create meaning, or feel in control. The confusing part is that the next version of self has not stabilized yet

Lately I’ve been realizing that healing doesn’t move in a straight line. There are moments where I genuinely think: Okay. I’ve processed this. I’ve grieved it. I’ve learned from it. I’ve moved through it. And then suddenly life touches the exact same wound again — or maybe a deeper layer underneath it — and I’m surprised by the intensity of what comes up. Not because I’m back at the beginning. But because growth seems to ask something new from us every time we expand. I used

I’m noticing that as I reclaim my voice, I’m becoming strangely sensitive to voices that sound overly assembled. Not fake, necessarily. Not intentionally manipulative. And not without truth. Sometimes there’s actually a lot of wisdom in what people are saying. But I notice my body reacting to language that feels too polished, too certain, too optimized into revelation. Maybe because we live in a time where healing, identity, spirituality, branding, therapy-speak, algorithms,