The Wild, Winding, Wonder-Filled Road Back to Me

Or: How I Accidentally Became My Truest Self By Letting Go of Everything I Thought I Was

Once upon a time—not in a fairytale land, but somewhere between burnout and a midlife crisis—I found myself in a full-blown spiritual awakening. The kind of awakening no one warns you about. The kind where you’re not sipping green juice on a mountaintop in Bali but instead crying on your living room floor, wondering if even your houseplants are disappointed in you.

You see, I’d always heard that awakening isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about becoming who you’ve always been. How poetic. How deeply unhelpful when you're knee-deep in emotional detox, saying goodbye to toxic relationships, outdated beliefs, and the comforting little lies you once clung to like a weighted blanket.

At the time, I remember thinking, “No, I’m not uncovering some buried version of me—I’m just trying to get as far away from myself as possible.” It felt like who I was had caused all the pain.

And slowly, after some time wandering the wild forests of loneliness and divine tantrums, I stumbled into silence.

The Glorious Undoing

Imagine you’re a houseplant that spent most of its life in a closet because someone told you you were too much sunshine for the room. Then one day, someone opens the door, drags you into the light, and—whoa. You realize you’ve been wilting and calling it home.

That’s what awakening felt like.

I didn’t change so much as I shed. Layers of performance. Layers of people-pleasing. Layers of "This is just who I am" that were really just "This is what I’ve been taught to be."

And slowly, the raw, radiant version of me—the one I thought I’d lost—began to peek through the cracks.

The Great Silence (and God’s Surprisingly Great Sense of Humor)

You want to know what’s underrated? Watching clouds. I mean really watching them. Not while doom-scrolling or pretending to meditate. Just… watching. For hours.

That kind of quiet was once unbearable to me. I needed noise, people, something to chase. But now? The silence is where I hear God the loudest. And get this—He’s hilarious. Divine comedy is a thing, y’all.

Sometimes I laugh so hard while sitting in the grass that I look slightly unhinged. But who cares? God and I are having a moment.

From People Person to Tree Whisperer

I used to pride myself on being a people person. Now? I’d trade a networking event for a long walk through the woods any day. Maybe that’s the betrayal talking (people will people, after all). Or maybe it’s because I discovered that nature doesn’t lie, manipulate, or talk behind your back at brunch.

I didn’t give up on people. I just found me in the quiet—and she’s lovely company.

Letting Go Without Losing Yourself

One of the most magical moments in my journey was realizing I didn’t need proof of the divine downloads I was receiving. I didn’t need someone else to believe me, validate me, or clap for me. I felt it. And that was enough.

Do I still feel sad? Sometimes.

Angry? Occasionally.

Fearful? At times.

But now, emotions are little postcards from my soul—not enemies to avoid. When sadness shows up, I sit with it, listen to it, and then gently show it the door. No more decade-long residencies for depression. Just tea and a conversation.

The Gospel According to Growth

Funny thing happens when you start walking this path: Suddenly, Jesus makes a lot more sense. His whole “dying on the cross and being reborn” thing? That’s not just a theological thesis. It’s the ego’s journey.

Every time I shed a layer of my false self, I understand that story a little more. Not with my mind, but with my bones.

I used to hand out my power like complimentary breath mints just to make others comfortable. Now? I know that someone else’s discomfort isn’t my emergency. Their anger? Not my compass. Their judgment? Not my mirror.

Trying to please everyone is like changing the oil in the car next to yours when your check engine light is on.

Love (Finally)

I used to think I wouldn’t be happy until I found love. You know, the rom-com kind with matching coffee mugs and Sunday farmer’s markets.

But guess what? I am love. And knowing that? Game. Changer.

Would I love a partner one day? Of course. But I’m not going to dim my light, shrink my soul, or keep toxic company just to avoid being alone. Because the real magic? I’m not alone anymore. I have me—and she’s radiant.

The Thank You I Never Thought I'd Say

So here’s the kicker: I don’t resent the people who betrayed me. I thank them. Every last knife in my back carved a stairway to my higher self.

Their rejection was divine redirection. Their cruelty was compost. And from that compost, I bloomed.

So if you’re on this messy, magical journey… keep going. The raw, radiant version of you is worth the excavation.

And when you finally meet them, sitting cross-legged in the grass, laughing with God—you’ll understand.

You weren’t becoming someone new.

You were just coming home. 🌀✨🌿