Healing is transformative. It’s not just about fixing what’s broken; it’s about discovering who you are—and, for many of us, becoming someone entirely new.
That’s what healing has been for me. It’s not simply a journey back to myself because, if I’m honest, I never had a solid sense of self to begin with. My life was built around meeting the expectations of others, keeping the peace, and living in a way that would make someone else proud of me—sometimes that someone was a person, and other times, it was what others, or religion, taught me was God.
Healing has meant unraveling that identity and asking, Who am I, really? And as I’ve stepped into the answer, I’ve had to confront a terrifying question: Will the people I care about accept this new version of me?
Healing forces you to see things you once ignored—or, for me, things I didn’t even know existed. As I’ve clarified what I value, who I am has come into focus. But with that clarity has come a cost. I’ve realized that not everyone will understand or embrace the person I’m becoming.
For so long, I didn’t know who I was outside of the roles I played for others. I lived a life designed to caretake and earn approval, but in the most independent way possible—I needed everyone to believe this was my choice, made from my own integrity, uninfluenced by others. Even so, I often sacrificed my own needs. Somewhere along the way, I learned to believe that my worth was tied to how well I could meet someone else’s expectations—or how much God might approve of my offerings as a giving, selfless mother/daughter/wife.
But healing has challenged me to see that living for others—or even for a promised afterlife that no one can perfectly predict—isn’t living at all. It’s asked me to redefine my values, my beliefs, and my worth. It’s shown me that I was taught to live a life that might make others proud of me, but I was never taught how to live a life that I could be proud of.
In the process of healing, I’ve never consciously asked myself, What if they don’t accept me? But as I’ve changed and rearranged my priorities, I’ve wondered: Do I still fit in this life I so meticulously created based on beliefs I no longer value?
So now what? Do I pretend in a new way that reduces me to a shell of a person, even more than I was while living in the dysfunction someone else brought into my life? Or do I blow up this life, severely impact everyone I’ve partnered with or created, and change everything for everyone?
The truth is, if I keep betraying who I am to make others comfortable, I’ll never live a life that’s truly mine. And as terrifying as it is to wonder if others will embrace this version of me, I know that the cost of rejecting my valid journey would be far greater.
Healing isn’t about going back to the way things were. It’s about creating something new. It’s about becoming more aligned with the values that resonate with me, not the ones I was handed.
And it doesn’t stop there. If I’m capable of changing now, what else might the future hold? Will I have to let go of all the ideals and beliefs I once thought made me who I am? Probably. But I’m starting to see that it’s not just about letting go—it’s about making space. Space for the life I want to build. Space for growth I assumed could only come from a magical miracle. Space for living one day at a time and cherishing moments I never learned to value before.
This isn’t just about reclaiming a voice that was silenced. It’s about finding my voice for the very first time. That voice is teaching me that I don’t need to live for someone else’s approval—whether it’s a partner, a community, or even a version of God some man thought up. My worth is inherent. My truth is mine. And living authentically is a risk worth taking every time.
Authenticity is terrifying and freeing all at once. It means stepping into spaces where you don’t know how others will react. It means creating boundaries and trusting that the right people—the ones who truly belong in your life—will stay.
Not everyone will understand, and that’s okay. Healing has taught me that I don’t need everyone to understand—I need to honor myself.
This is what I’ve fought to become: someone who lives in alignment with their truth. And while I can’t control how others respond—and I make no guarantees that my truth won’t continue to evolve—I know this much: living authentically is the only way forward.
Healing is messy, uncomfortable, and often isolating. It asks you to redefine who you are and what you stand for. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: healing changes you—and that’s okay.
You don’t need to stay the same to be loved. And when you choose authenticity, you’ll attract the people, opportunities, and connections that truly align with who you are.
This journey is ongoing, and I don’t have all the answers. But one thing I know for sure is that becoming the truest version of myself is always worth the risk.