What’s Scarier—Losing Yourself or Finding Out Who You Truly Are?
There was a moment, not too long ago, when I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back at me.
I don’t mean the lines on my face or the weariness in my eyes—I mean me. The woman I used to be, the girl I once dreamed of becoming, the person I thought I’d grow into someday… she was gone. Or so I thought.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that she wasn’t gone—she was buried. Beneath the weight of expectations, survival, and the roles I thought I had to play, she was waiting. Waiting for me to stop running. Waiting for me to come back to her.
But coming back? That’s the hard part.
Losing Myself Was Easy. Finding Myself Was Terrifying.
The truth is, it’s easier to lose yourself than it is to face the pain of finding out who you truly are. Losing yourself happens gradually, almost without you noticing:
Saying “yes” when you mean “no.”
Staying silent when you want to speak up.
Giving until there’s nothing left for yourself.
Choosing what’s familiar—even when it hurts—because it feels safer than the unknown.
For years, I told myself I was fine. I was strong. I was doing what needed to be done. I was taking care of everyone else. But deep down, I felt hollow.
I thought I was afraid of being lost forever. What I was really afraid of was what I’d find if I stopped long enough to look for myself.
The Moment Everything Changed
My breaking point wasn’t dramatic—it was quiet. It was one of those ordinary days when life piles up in small, exhausting ways. I had a to-do list a mile long, a smile plastered on my face, and a feeling in my chest that something wasn’t right.
That feeling had been there for a long time, but I had ignored it. This time, though, I couldn’t.
So, I stopped. I let the laundry wait, the calls go unanswered, the pretending pause for a moment. I sat alone, in silence, and let myself feel what I had been pushing away for years.
I cried. I screamed into a pillow. I wrote in a journal until my hand ached. And then, in the middle of all that noise, a small, quiet voice broke through:
"I’m still here."
It was me. The real me. Not the version of me that others expected or the one I had tried so hard to become. Just me.
What I Found When I Finally Looked
Facing myself wasn’t easy. It meant acknowledging the choices I had made, the patterns I had repeated, and the pain I had buried.
I saw the little girl who felt invisible. The teenager who stayed silent when she should have screamed. The woman who kept choosing the same toxic relationships because she didn’t believe she deserved better.
But I also saw someone else. Someone stronger than she knew. Someone who had survived, even when it felt impossible. Someone who was ready to stop surviving and start living.
I didn’t find all the answers that day. But I found a beginning.
The Journey Back to You
If you’ve ever felt lost, if you’ve ever looked in the mirror and wondered who you are, I want you to know something: the real you is still there.
She’s waiting for you. She’s patient. She’s kind. She’s ready for you to stop running, to sit with your pain, and to let her back into the light.
This journey isn’t easy. It’s not a straight line. It’s messy and complicated and scary. But it’s also beautiful, healing, and transformative.
And here’s the most important thing: you don’t have to do it alone.
A Space to Rediscover Yourself
That’s why I created the Circle of Butterflies—a space where women like you can begin this journey together. It’s a place to share your story, to feel seen and supported, and to take those first brave steps back to yourself.
If you’re ready to take the first step, visit unlockedbutterfly.com to learn more or sign up for an upcoming Circle.
Because the scariest thing isn’t losing yourself—it’s never giving yourself the chance to be found.
🦋 Come find her. She’s waiting for you.