Still Becoming
A quote from Anaïs Nin that reads, “Life is a process of becoming, a combination of state we have to go through”
Editor’s note: This is written from my current vantage point.
Welcome, inspiring minds and kind hearts to this month’s series, Becoming Without Permission. For the month of June, we’ll be exploring expansion and identity shifts. Today is no different.
Today, I want to talk about the uncertainty that comes with growth, the discomfort of change, and what it feels like to find yourself somewhere between who you were and who you’re becoming. Because once upon a time, I found myself in that exact space.
Looking back, I can’t point to one single moment that changed everything. But I do remember a season when something within me began to shift.
One of the first things I started questioning was my relationships. The friendships that once brought me comfort and familiarity began to feel different. While I appreciated the memories we shared, maintaining those connections started to feel draining rather than fulfilling. I found myself wondering if I was being overlooked, taken for granted, or simply growing in a different direction.
For a while, I debated whether I needed space or whether the friendships simply needed a reset. But eventually, I realized things had already changed. One friend would occasionally reach out to ask how I was doing. I’d answer, ask the same question back, and then be met with silence for weeks. It occurred more than once. Eventually, the silence became the answer.
At the same time, I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted instead. The realization was scary. Not because I was dependent on those friendships, but because they had been a significant part of my life. They were familiar. Safe. Comfortable.
Yet beneath the fear was something else entirely.
Freedom.
For the first time, I started imagining a different kind of life. One filled with new experiences, meaningful connections, and people who encouraged each other’s dreams as much as their own. There was a quiet excitement in realizing that maybe I wasn’t stuck. Maybe I could begin again.
Around that same time, I remember walking down the street asking God for a sign. When I noticed that the sky seemed brighter than I had ever noticed before. The sunlight filtered through the tree, the morning was peaceful and still, and for reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, it filled me with a sense of hope.
It wasn’t that the world had changed overnight. It was that I had. And I had slowed down enough to notice it.
Not long after that, I began questioning things I had never questioned before:
What did I actually want from life?
What kind of people did I want around me?
What dreams had I put aside?
What kind of work would support the life I wanted to live rather than become my entire identity?
Nothing was necessarily wrong with my life, but something within me had changed. And once I became aware of it, I couldn’t ignore it.
Many people assumed I had my ducks in a row. I had a stable job. I was responsible. I was moving forward. But behind the scenes, I felt worlds away from everyone around me. My friends seemed to have everything figured out. They were building solid careers, traveling, settling into serious relationships, and creating lives that appeared certain. Meanwhile, I felt like I was standing on shifting ground.
Everything I thought I knew about myself was beginning to change.
Then life added another layer of uncertainty. I lost a job that had become a huge part of my identity. A relationship ended without closure. I moved back in with my parents. Plans I had spent years building suddenly felt fragile. My life felt like a chaotic mess.
At one point, it felt as though every area of my life was being challenged at once. A family member was seriously ill. I was dealing with my own health concerns. Work had become increasingly stressful. Friendships felt uncertain. The future I had imagined for myself no longer felt attainable.
For a long time, I wondered if I had somehow ruined everything. I worried that I had lost the career, stability, reputation, and future I had worked so hard to build. I worried that all the effort I had put into becoming the person I was would count for nothing. And I worried that I would always feel alone.
But what surprised me most wasn’t the loss itself. It was the grief. Not just the grief for the friendships that ended. Not just grief for the job I left behind. Grief for the versions of myself. I missed the carefree version of me. The innocent version. the version that trusted easily, found beauty everywhere, and believed that hard work alone would guarantee things would work out.
Letting go of jobs and relationships was painful. Letting go of old versions of myself was harder.
There was a period where I genuinely didn’t know who I was anymore. I felt as though I had returned to the starting line after years of effort, growth, and hard work. Some days I questioned whether I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
So much so, I spent a lot of time alone during that season. Sitting with my thoughts. Replaying conversations. Wondering where things had gone wrong. Wondering whether I had changed my life for the worst by letting go of things that once felt permanent.
And so I contemplated:
Would I ever be happy again?
Would I ever trust people again?
Would I ever feel confident again?
Would I ever find my way back to myself?
For months, I felt stuck in those questions.
People often told me to stop worrying, to be grateful as things could be worse, or to simply take action. While those comments were usually well-intentioned, they often missed what I actually needed. Looking back, I didn’t need anyone to solve my problems or do my work for me, I needed someone to sit beside me in the uncertainty. Someone to remind me that it was okay not to have everything figured out. Someone to tell me that losing my direction didn’t mean I had lost myself.
What eventually helped wasn’t finding all the answers, it was learning to trust myself.
But before that happened, healing began in smaller ways. It happened one walk at a time. I started off simple by taking a walk to see the sunrise. Then, before long, I was taking long sunrise walks through the neighborhood and along nature trails. Some mornings I’d stop by the lake and watch the sunlight dance across the water. Other days I’d pause to admire turtles resting on a log or take photos when the lighting was just right. On weekends, I’d spend hours walking through the city, people-watching and reminding myself that life was still happening all around me.
Those walks may not have solved my problems. but they got me out of my head. They gave me a sense of routine. They grounded me in the present moment. And they reminded me how much beauty still existed in the world, even during seasons when I struggled to see it. Little by little, they helped me find pieces of myself again.
Before the chapter of my life that started it through a series of unfortunate events, I often trusted other people’s opinions more than my own. Then I went through a season where I trusted almost no one. While it may have taken some time, I was able to find a balance.
I learned to trust people until they gave me a reason not to. But more importantly, I learned to trust myself again.
There was even a point where I genuinely questioned whether other people knew me better than I knew myself. After enough opinions, assumptions, and misunderstandings, I started wondering if perhaps they were right.
But that was until I realized something important. No one else is living my life. No one else carries my experiences. No one else knows my heart the way I do. And while advice can be helpful or well-intentioned, it doesn’t mean anyone else knows me better than I know myself.
And so, with each step forward, I became more confident in my own voice.
I learned that not every relationship is meant to last forever. Some people are part of our story for a season. Others remain for years. Neither makes the relationship less meaningful.
I learned that holding on isn’t always the same thing as loyalty. Sometimes letting go is the healthier choice.
I learned that uncertainty doesn’t always mean something is wrong. Sometimes it’s silly the space between who you were and who you’re becoming.
And perhaps most importantly, I learned that growth isn’t always about adding something new. Sometimes it’s about releasing what no longer fits.
Over time, I realized that while many things had changed, not everything had. My values remained. My belief in treating people with kindness and respect remained. my desire for meaningful connection remained.
I didn’t lost myself. I simply became a version of myself who chose authenticity over belonging.
For much of my life, I wanted to fit in. To be understood. To be accepted. To be chosen. But eventually, I realized that staying true to myself mattered more than maintaining a sense of belonging that required me to ignore my instincts. And that I’d rather stand along as myself than belong somewhere as someone I’m not.
Today, I look back and realize something I couldn’t see at the time. How the things I lost didn’t all come back. Because some weren’t meant to. But neither did I. And that’s okay.
Because while there are still days when I miss the softer, more naive version of myself, I’ve come to appreciate the person I’ve become. Someone who is stronger, wiser, more self-aware, and more willing to step outside her comfort zone. Someone who no longer feels the need to have every answer before taking the next step.
From time to time, I still wonder what might have happened if certain friendships that made it through the test of time, if particular jobs had worked out, or if life had unfolded differently. But I’ve learned that appreciating those chapters doesn’t mean I need to live in them. Yes, they were part of my story. Yes, they helped shape who I am. And yes, I’ll always be grateful. But at the same time, I choose to look ahead. On forging new connections. On finding new paths. And on discovering more about myself.
So if you’re in a season of uncertainty right now, I want you to know that you’re not alone.
It’s okay to feel scared. It’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to grieve the life you thought you would have. It’s okay to acknowledge the pain, confusion, disappointment, and uncertainty that often accompany change.
Give yourself permission to feel all of it. Give yourself permission to rest. Give yourself permission to not have everything figured out. Because transformation rarely feels graceful while it’s happening. And sometimes the discomfort you’re feeling isn’t a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes it’s a sign that something is changing.
Keep exploring. Keep trying new things. Keep trusting yourself. And keep moving forward, even when you can’t see the entire path ahead. Because one day you’ll look back and realize that the uncertainty wasn't the end of your story. It was the beginning of a new chapter. And sometimes the most beautiful thing you can be is not finished.
Just still becoming.
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.***
