I’m Not Finding Myself. I’m Redefining Her.

There is a difference between losing yourself and realizing that the version of you that once made sense no longer fully fits.

I don't think I lost myself.

If anything, I think I have spent years becoming so many versions of myself that I am finally sitting still long enough to ask, Who am I now?

Not who was I before motherhood.

Not who was I before the degrees.

Not who was I before the disappointments.

Not who did I have to become to survive certain seasons of my life.

But who am I now?

I am a doctor.

I am a mother.

I am a millennial who grew up believing that education, hard work, and doing everything “right” would eventually lead somewhere.

I am a therapist, researcher, writer, and woman trying to create something that matters.

And right now, I am also a woman navigating a job market that has made me question my value in ways I never expected.

That part is hard to admit.

Because when you have spent years working toward something, there is an expectation that eventually the world will recognize what you have built.

You earn the degrees.

You gain the experience.

You become the expert.

You show up.

You apply.

You interview.

You rewrite the resume.

You cross the T's.

You dot the I's.

You make yourself smaller when you think you're “too much,” and then you make yourself bigger when you're told you're not enough.

And somehow, you can still find yourself sitting there wondering:

What exactly am I worth?

I know my qualifications.

I know my experience.

I know what I bring to a room.

But knowing your value and having other people recognize your value are two very different experiences.

And I think that is where I am right now.

Redefining.

Not because I am worthless.

But because I am tired of allowing systems, employers, titles, salaries, rejection emails, and other people's inability to recognize my gifts to determine how valuable I believe I am.

Maybe this season isn't about finding a job.

Maybe it's about finding a new definition of success.

For most of my life, success looked like achievement.

Get the degree.

Get the position.

Get the title.

Get the salary.

Build the career.

Become the woman everyone said I could be.

But somewhere along the way, I realized that achievement and fulfillment are not the same thing.

I can accomplish everything I was taught to accomplish and still feel like something is missing.

And maybe that something isn't another accomplishment.

Maybe it's alignment.

Maybe it's purpose.

Maybe it's freedom.

Maybe it's finally giving myself permission to create a life that doesn't have to make sense to everyone else.

I am a millennial mother, which means I am raising a child while simultaneously trying to unlearn some of the things I was taught about adulthood.

And somehow, we were supposed to believe that if we followed the formula, everything would work out.

I am not starting over.

I am redefining who I am.

Not because the world told me I wasn't enough.

But because I am realizing that my definition of enough cannot depend on the world's ability to recognize me.

I am still becoming.

Still learning.

Still building.

Still dreaming.

Still figuring it out.

And maybe that is not a crisis of identity.

Maybe it is a reclamation of identity.

I don't need to find myself.

I'm here.

I just need to decide what I want to do with the woman I've become.