I’ve been in a weird space lately.
Not broken. Not stuck. But not fully myself either.
More like… in between.
There’s a version of me I’m not willing to be anymore, the one who moved through life without really knowing what I needed, constantly adjusting to keep the peace, quietly disappearing inside the roles I played.
Now I’m doing it differently. I’m more direct, more honest, and a lot less interested in pretending things are fine when they’re not. But it’s messy. Like, really messy. I’m still learning how to speak up without swinging too hard the other way. I’ve felt grief. I’ve felt anger. And often, I’ve felt like I don’t quite know how to exist without defaulting to what used to feel safe.
I grieved the years I spent overriding myself, keeping things smooth, staying quiet, making life easier for everyone else, and calling it strength. I felt anger that it took me so long to see it. I was praised for being the one who never made a fuss, who always smiled, who kept the peace. The one who showed up early, stayed late, and believed that needing help meant I was failing. I was polite. Pleasant. Easy to be around. Helpful to the point of forgetting I had needs of my own.
And under all of that, I was disappearing.
There’s grief in realizing how much of yourself you’ve handed over for the sake of being liked, needed, or non-disruptive. And yes, some of that grief turns into anger—not just at the systems that taught it, but at yourself. For not seeing it sooner. For going along with it. For betraying yourself in ways that were so subtle, you didn’t even realize you were doing it.
But once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And once you start to come back to yourself, you can’t pretend it didn’t matter.
That in-between space? It was brutal at times. But it taught me everything.
I had to learn how to sit with myself instead of abandoning myself.
To stop managing other people’s comfort like it was my responsibility, and start being honest about what was actually true for me.
For most of my life, my purpose seemed to be making everyone else’s lives easier or more comfortable so they could do what they needed to do. I put their needs in front of my own. Eventually, I forgot I had needs at all.
And the truth is, always stepping in doesn’t just wear you down. It robs other people of the chance to step up.
I didn’t flip a switch and become someone new. I still trip. I still overcorrect. But now I know what it feels like to stay with myself instead of disappearing.
If you’re in the in-between—grieving, angry, restless, trying to figure out how to live on your terms, you’re not broken. You’re just shedding what no longer fits. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s necessary.
Don’t rush it. Don’t numb it. Let it change you.
That’s how you become someone you chose to be, not someone shaped by invisible rules you never signed up for.