I got to thinking about what it means to ‘find yourself.’ I naively thought this was something you only had to do once, and once you figured it out, it’d be smooth sailing.
I had the typical story arc and I thought I was close to ‘finding myself.’ It had been almost 10 years since I moved to Japan and I had finally moved to the big city, got my first big girl job, and got married. I thought I had it all figured out, and from the outside it must have looked that way. Sure, my job was not easy and I didn’t like it very much, but I thought eventually I’d find my groove. You know, the way they do in the movies right before everything in their lives comes together and they live happily ever after.
But the days and weeks passed and things just weren’t coming together. I was confused and frustrated. I can’t even count the number of times I came home and cried in my husband’s arms. I kept waiting for the day when I’d wake up with a new outlook on life and suddenly things would turn around overnight. Like in The Devil Wears Prada, when Andy gets a makeover, wears couture everyday, and suddenly excels at her job. That’s one of my favorite scenes in the movie, but unfortunately it turns out that real life is much more mundane, and the one night of crying they use as a turning point in the story, is actually more like a year.
I was already in the latter half of my twenties, which meant I should have it all figured out, right? I knew the answer was a big fat NO, but I couldn’t get myself to say it because I was so close to having everything society says I should want. So instead I bought myself some time by practicing morning meditation, going on more frequent vacations and indulging myself in retail therapy. I was doing anything to escape from reality and to no surprise, it came back to bite me in the butt. After half a year of disassociation it caught up to me, all at once, in my first ever panic attack.
When I first started my job I told myself that I would continue until the money no longer became worth it. It was my attempt at keeping my moral compass, and I honestly thought I’d never have to call my own bluff. But after one mental health break and a future that seemed bleak at best, it felt like the time for me to throw in the towel and admit defeat.
The first step was admitting to myself that I was lost and struggling. It was scary to admit and in all honesty, I’ve only admitted it to myself in my internal dialogue. But still, it’s a step I wasn’t willing to take before. I haven’t had the courage to really say it out loud, but putting the words onto a page is close enough for now.
So here I am, admitting defeat and starting back at square one; sharing my slightly refined, but 100% honest inner dialogue. I am by no means a professional writer so it may not be the easiest read, but putting it onto a page helps me to clear the constant chatter in my head.
I still don’t know if anyone ever really ‘finds themselves,’ but I hope to at least better understand myself, because right now I can’t really say that I do. I am not brave enough to post on Instagram and share my journey with people I know, nor am I brave enough to show my face on YouTube and try my hand at vlogging. So as of now I will remain faceless as I share bits and pieces of myself and my life, in this very new and confusing chapter.