Miss Independent
Welcome, inquisitive minds and compassionate souls, to the final chapter in my series, “The Making of Me.” If you are new here or want to revisit the journey from the beginning, feel free to explore the first two chapters:
Blended Together - where I opened up about the experience of growing up in a blended family.
Memories, Archived and Alive - a deeper dive into difficult memories, including discussions of bullying and its after effects.
Before I dive into the final chapter of The Making of Me, I want to take a moment to share something I have never fully put into words, my backstory, or as I like to call it, the lore of my life.
Growing up, I never really felt like I fit in anywhere. I was constantly navigating two worlds, two family dynamics, two different roles depending on the weekend. One week, I was the baby of five siblings—the only girl—and the next, I was essentially an only child. It gave me a unique perspective, one that I have come to appreciate more over time, but back then, it was confusing. I was always “half there” and only available part of the time.
This meant that holidays were often spent choosing family time over friends, and while I cherished those moments, I also missed out on the kind of deep, consistent friendships others seemed to have. When I was not around, I was out of the loop—missing plans, the inside jokes, the conversations. It was hard not to feel like an outsider looking in.
And socially, things never felt quite aligned. I was the youngest of all my siblings and first cousins by a wide margin. On the flip side, I was the oldest amongst my nieces, nephews, and other cousins with at least a six year age gap. There were not many people close to my age, and that isolation followed me into school and friendships. I never knew if I was more mature or less. I just knew I did not connect the way others did. I gravitated toward adults, drawn to deeper conversations, thoughtful exchanges, and the kind of listening that felt meaningful. It all felt natural to me, even though it was not how most kids my age seemed to connect.
Eventually, however, I found a friend group. A place to call my own. It helped fill some of the gaps but not all. I tried to bring the same level of depth and attentiveness I was used to, hoping to build something rooted in trust and sincerity. I showed up fully, stayed supportive, and tried to create space for meaningful connection. Still, something always felt a bit off. I often found myself craving more closeness, more emotional safety. You know the kind of friendship where you do not have to filter your thoughts or downplay your needs? I longed for a soft place to land. And while there were glimpses of that, I have come to understand that not every connection is meant to go that deep, and that is okay.
Looking back, I realize that the way I moved through life was not part of some grand plan, it was simply me doing my best to navigate a world of shifting dynamics and unfamiliar terrain. My way of being was not intentional; it was adaptive. As I have shared before, and I will say it again: I do not regret the things I have been through, nor the connections I have made along the way. Each choice reflected where I was at that moment—what I needed, what I believed, what I hoped for. To wish those experiences away now, just because they did not end the way I imagined, would feel hypocritical. They were real, they mattered, and they helped shape me into who I am today.
And that brings me here, to one of the biggest threads woven through my story: hyper-independence. For much of my life, I wore self-reliance like armor. I did not always realize it, but looking back, it makes sense. When you are constantly adjusting to different environments, roles, expectations, it becomes second nature to depend on yourself. Independence was not just a trait, it was a survival skill. Oftentimes, it felt safer to lean inward rather than to risk leaning on others. But over time, I began to wonder: is being strong always the same as being okay?
For years, I placed more trust in others than I did myself. I was not just seeking connection, I was overextending my hope, overtrusting that others would value those moments the way I did. I often leaned on friends and family for shared experiences, craving their presence to feel grounded or fulfilled. But when it came to protecting my peace and emotional safety, I did not yet know how to fully trust myself.
I remember vividly the times I would look forward to plans with people I cared about, only to face last-minute cancellations. It was not just about missing an outing; it was the quiet heartbreak of feeling overlooked. My excitement was not just about the plan, it was about the connection. When that was dismissed, so was I, or at least that is how it felt. Another reoccurring, never-ending cycle that stuck with me was when someone or a group of individuals would visit me once and never come back. It may sound minor, but to me, it carried weight. It felt like my effort to build something meaningful was not matched. Instead of deepening our bond, it created a distance that never quite closed.
At the time, I was still deep in people-pleasing. I showed grace and understanding, but did not give myself the same. I offered everyone else the benefit of the doubt, while silencing my own needs. I might have shared a sliver of disappointment, but not the whole truth. I was scared that being that honest would make me seem dramatic, too much, or ungrateful. So I held it in, because I was not ready to be fully seen…just yet.
Later on in my journey, I began to change how I showed up. I started being more transparent with those around me. I stopped shrinking my feelings or sugarcoating discomfort just to keep the peace. But to my surprise, when I finally found the courage to speak more freely, the way I was treated began to shift.
After all that time, when I finally honored my truth, I started to be seen as someone I was not. The very fears that once kept me silent seemed to ring true. That hurt. But it also revealed what I needed in order to heal. To me, this meant some relationships had to be released. It was not out of resentment, but out of deep love for my own growth. I needed to let go of the expectations and subtle pressures others placed on me, whether they meant to or not. Because I so desperately needed, a safe place or a safe human to confide all my troubles into. A place to explore, to rediscover old parts of myself I had hidden away without the constant criticism, put downs, or restraints. Most of all, I needed a place where I could be myself fully and completely in order to heal and put myself back together again.
But the truth is, growth whether emotional, spiritual, or personal, can challenge even the strongest of bonds. We get so used to seeing people a certain way that when they evolve, it throws us off. It alters a part of us and can make the situation feel personal, even when it is not. And rather than believe it is personal, I challenge you to reflect and seek clarification the next time a situation like this pops into your life. It will give you a better understanding and peace of mind where that person may be emotionally, spiritually, or personally. Not just that, but it may allow you to become closer in your connection as you took interest in the meaning behind the change and not only the reason for the change.
A good example of this situation would be: feeling like you were put in a box, unable to stretch into the new, unexplored parts of yourself and instead expected to remain the same forever. A sentiment that is unrealistic. After all, the more experiences we have, the more connections we make, and the more things we create, the more aware we become of how vast the world around us truly is. These experiences can be eye-opening, inspiring, and motivating. So much so, that we evolve and grow in areas of our life we may not have considered possible.
Now if you feel like you are being burdened to be something you are not, you are being judged from having different ideals, or those around you are questioning this evolution occurring in your life, know it is a very human-like response. Especially when someone you have known for years changes, it can be jarring, confusing, intimidating, frustrating, or even scary for the other person. It may even hurt. Maybe you envisioned growing older with these people, sharing milestones and memories together. But life has a unique way of unfolding. Just because a bond changes or fades, does not mean it was not meaningful. It just means growth is occurring.
After all, not everyone is comfortable with change. As the saying goes, “humans are creatures of habit.” Once we get set in our ways, it can be hard to change. And that is okay.
Do you know what else is okay? To continue to evolve even when others do not understand, do not approve, or do not believe in you. It is important to remember to take care and look out for yourself. The right people will understand. And others may come around to the idea as well. Perhaps, all that was needed was an adjustment phase, an understanding to what brought about the change, or just giving it time? You never know unless you try.
I know this might be an unpopular opinion but I genuinely believe it is healthy, even necessary to release things that no longer serve us, including relationships. Growth is not always meant to be shared with everyone we have known.
Letting go became a vital part of my journey. For so long, I tried to hold everything together—relationships, expectations, roles I thought I had to play. But healing required something different. It asked me to loosen my grip, to stop forcing connections that no longer felt aligned, and to create space for who I was becoming. I began to realize that healing was not just about feeling better, it was about choosing better. Better boundaries, better energy, better alignment with the life I wanted to live.
The more I let go of what weighed me down, the more I could breathe. I was not abandoning anyone, I was returning to myself.
In the end, my journey has been one of learning how to stand on my own while still holding space for the love I have given and received along the way. Independence was not a role I chose, it was a path life quietly carved out for me. At first, it felt like loneliness. But over time, I realized it was resilience. It was self-trust. It was the quiet strength of someone learning how to listen to their own voice in a world full of noise.
Change, though often uncomfortable, became my teacher. Growth, though sometimes isolating, became my compass. And healing—healing became my reclamation. The unraveling of all the versions of me I created to belong, to be loved, to be enough. And the slow rebuilding of the person I was always meant to be: grounded, introspective, compassionate, and whole. So no, not every connection turned out the way I had hoped. But every experience, every shift, every goodbye—shaped me. And for that, I hold deep gratitude. Because without it, I would not be here. I would not be me.
The greatest lesson I have learned is that growth often requires us to let go of what no longer serves us, even if that means stepping away from relationships or past versions of ourselves. It is okay to change, to evolve, and to allow others to do the same. We all have our own unique journeys, and sometimes, the most important thing we can do is to embrace the space needed for that growth, particularly without guilt. I would love to hear your thoughts and reflections on this. How has growth shaped your own relationships and your sense of self?
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***
