Burned out and depleted, I slowly crawled back to the core of my existence. Along the way, I rebuilt expectations for myself—ones rooted in genuine fulfillment, not the impossible standards I once set to prove my worth based on old childhood stories.

Coming home to myself meant embracing who I am, separate from everyone else’s narratives. I’ve learned to unapologetically take as much or as little space as I need because it’s mine to occupy.

The art of coming home to myself is also about understanding that my mind, body, and spirit need more than just rest to be rejuvenated. No amount of sleep can compensate if my waking hours are spent maintaining unfulfilling relationships, overextending my energy, denying myself what I truly need and want, or performing to please others. I can’t count the times I’ve caught myself acting differently around different people—whether friends or family—never strangers, oddly enough. While it may sometimes be “normal and necessary” to fit in and get by, at what cost? Deep down, it’s exhausting to be everyone except myself.

Certain words, actions, and behaviors can ignite one person and extinguish another’s flame entirely. My helpful nudges may accidentally stir another’s shadows. So, I’ve learned to let it be—to let others find their way without interfering unless it affects me directly.

We all walk different tightropes, balancing different demons. Staying curious means gently questioning which parts of my story are my own and which echo others’ expectations. Some waves pull us under this vast ocean of influence; others guide us to shore. But it isn’t the direction we swim that defines us—it’s the stories we tell ourselves while we’re in the water.

Think about that—how true!

Freedom isn’t just about walking away from what dims my spirit—it’s about running toward what makes my soul dance. I’m a fierce advocate for gauging worth by my standards, not someone else’s measuring stick. A wise woman once reminded me: “Don’t let joy play hide-and-seek.” My journey back to myself reveals all the wisdom I’ve always had—I just needed to tune in. I love hearing my frequency, not out of ego but out of trust in my instincts and experience.

Unlearning has been my daily job. I’m the detective of my beliefs—keeping what resonates, discarding the rest. My enlightenment? It’s messy but magical. I’ll keep swimming against the current, climbing onto shores unknown. Breathless, perhaps—but invigorated. This space is, and has always been, mine to claim.