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Growing Pains and Grey Areas: Where I was
Plot Twist: Turns Out Healing Can Be Fun: Where I am
It’s been a year since my life was turned upside down. I’ve gone back and forth about whether or not to return to writing. At times, it felt like my creativity died on March 31, 2024. But the truth is, my creativity didn’t disappear—it just got buried beneath the weight of everything I experienced. My realization is that I had tied so much of my creativity, my voice, and my worth to external things. When those things crumbled, I thought I did too.
This isn’t a post about what happened to me. It’s not even about a new lesson I’ve learned. It’s about how what I went through has fundamentally changed me.
Living in the Unknown
I’m not in a place where I have everything figured out. Honestly, I have nothing figured out. And weirdly enough, there’s beauty in that. The unknown has allowed me to rediscover who I am.
I used to be so sure of myself. I always had a plan, and a backup plan, and usually a backup for the backup. I thought certain things like relationships, personal identity, and my career aspirations would always be constants in my life. But now I know better. Now, even when I have a plan, I hold it loosely. Life has a funny way of reminding you. There are things you simply can’t control, no matter how hard you try. I understand that there are external circumstances I can’t control. My internal dialogue of you have to have it all figured out or even somewhat figured out has changed. Now, I tell myself what ever happens is happening for my highest good. I deeply cherish a bible verse from Jeremiah 29:11. It says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. These are “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Most of the control I thought I had was an illusion. It was rooted in fear and self-protection.
Who I Am Now
I’m no longer the person I was a year ago. I get overstimulated and overwhelmed more easily. For example, normally I have 10+ things on my to-do list. Now, anything over 5 things to do stresses me out. I can’t multitask the way I used to. I left my high-status, well-paying job because my values shifted, I shifted. My focus went from obtaining and expanding to growing and repairing. Everyone talks about how near-death experiences change you. But until it happened to me, I never understood how deep those changes run.
My executive functioning isn’t what it once was. My brain used to move fast; I problem-solve on the fly. It seems as though all the solutions that I can come up with lie within a messy gray area. The consequences and implications of the solutions involve a complex trade-off. This is because the problems are more complex. They do not offer a clear-cut resolution. This makes it difficult to decide the best course of action. One thing I’ve learned is that personal accountability is key when making decisions that impact both myself and others. Seeking insight from a trusted source is also important. Further, my outside opinion rarely told me, “This is what you should do.” Since not many have been in the situation that I am in, the conversations resemble information sessions. New information is brought to my attention. This enables me to make the best decision I can.
And trust—that one still stings. I used to be too trusting. Now, I struggle to trust anyone. I used to trust words over actions. Now, I am prioritizing actions over words. No one talks about how hard it is to trust people in new relationships after being deeply betrayed. No one discusses the emotional baggage. It’s the labor of developing new relationships with a constant rainy cloud over your head. It’s the labor of wanting people in your life. Yet, you fear of betrayal at the same time. This creates a constant push and pull. No one talks about creating a life with someone, only to see everything fall apart ending in total disaster. There’s no chance for revival. This happens when someone you would’ve trusted with your life lets you down. It’s lonely. I isolate because asking for help feels like admitting defeat. When I share my struggles, I feel like a burden. I fear the person I confide in will use my vulnerability against me. I also lost trust in the justice system—a system I once believed held people accountable. I’ve learned that some people get to walk away, while others are left holding the pieces forever.
Learning to Walk Away
One thing I’ve promised myself: I will remove myself before I wreck others or myself. I no longer stay in situations longer than I need to—whether to prove a point or protect someone’s comfort. I’ve learned that protecting my peace sometimes means walking away, even if it’s misunderstood.
But wait—did you really think I came here just to drop the heavy stuff? Think again!
Coming Home
I never imagined moving back home for an extended period of time. Ask anyone who knows me—they’ll tell you I hate Ohio. But home is where your heart is, and my heart is here.
Coming home felt like failure at first. I saw it as proof that I couldn’t make it “out there.” But looking back, coming home was the best decision I made. I needed my family. I needed to be held—literally and figuratively.
This past year, I got to experience moments I would’ve missed otherwise. I saw the Irish twins’ senior year. I showed up for K & K’s games and gymnastics meets. I get lunch dates with Little K almost every month. I ugly cried in the arms of my best friend. I reunited with my childhood therapist and leaned into a relationship that has carried me through my darkest moments. I’ve made new friends who’ve become family. I’ve never felt so seen, heard, supported, and loved.
I am now capable of healing in the presence of people who never let me forget how much I matter. Even when I am isolating and not returning phone calls or texts, someone notices and brings it to my attention. I feel so beyond blessed. For that, I am endlessly grateful. No one really talks about how, when you move away, you unintentionally miss out on small, everyday moments. You miss the birthdays, late-night laughs, family dinners, and inside jokes that only happen when you’re physically present. You don’t realize how much life keeps happening without you. You only realize this when you come back and see how many memories you weren’t a part of. Looking back, I am not sure how much healing I would have accomplished staying if I stayed in California. I contribute so much of my healing to my amazing support system.
Rediscovering Myself
Secondly, I developed a better relationship with myself. I allowed myself to have fun… sometimes maybe too much fun. I learned how much I love moving my body. Movement has been one of the best ways for me to process deep emotions. I realized I need and love time alone because too much social interaction drains me. I found that I have a deep appreciation for traveling and seeing other parts of the world. I discovered how much of my self-worth I had tied to romantic relationships and material achievements. Now, I’m learning to see my value in simply being who I am, not what I can offer.
Most importantly, I’ve learned to give myself grace consistently. My internal dialogue has changed from rhetoric of blame guilt and shame to understanding, compassion, and growth. Healing isn’t linear. Some days, I feel grounded. Other days, I slip back into old patterns. But I’m learning that both are part of the process.
Choosing Myself
Lastly, I’ve learned how to love and focus on myself. I’ve learned that self-love isn’t selfish—it’s survival. It’s setting boundaries, protecting my peace, saying no without guilt, and choosing myself even when it feels uncomfortable. When I take care of myself first, I’m capable of showing up more fully. I am more authentic for the people I love.
In Closing
So here I am—still healing, still figuring it out, still fumbling my way through. But I’m here. I survived. I’m softer, slower, and more intentional than I’ve ever been. Life has knocked me down, but it also cracked me open. Through those cracks, I’ve found deeper love. I’ve discovered deeper connection. I have encountered a version of myself I never would’ve known if everything had gone according to plan.
I don’t got it all figured out—but maybe that’s the point.
Misbehavin' 