There are moments in life when you look at yourself and realize you don’t really know the woman looking back anymore. Not in some dramatic, movie-scene kind of way.

Maybe you don’t need to find your old self. Maybe it’s time to discover who you are now.

Sometimes life is actually… fine.

You’re getting through your days.

You’re handling your responsibilities.

You’re answering messages.

You’re going to work.

You’re making plans.

You’re doing what needs to be done.

But somewhere underneath all of that is this quiet feeling: I don’t feel like myself anymore.

And then comes the harder question:

What does “myself” even mean now? Maybe you’ve spent years being someone’s partner.

Someone’s mother.

Someone’s daughter.

Someone’s caretaker.

Someone’s employee.

The dependable friend.

The responsible one.

The ambitious one.

The woman who keeps everything together.

Maybe you’ve spent so much time surviving difficult circumstances that there wasn’t much room left for curiosity. Maybe you’ve accomplished things you once wanted and discovered they don’t feel the way you imagined.

Or maybe you’ve simply changed.

Nothing terrible happened. You aren’t having some enormous crisis.

You’ve just outgrown parts of yourself without realizing it. I think that’s one of the strangest forms of feeling lost. Because sometimes you’re not actually lost.

You’re unfamiliar with the woman you’ve become.

And that’s a very different problem.

It’s also one of the ideas at the heart of Becoming Her: A Self-Discovery & Personal Reinvention Course for Women.

Because I don’t think finding yourself always means returning to the person you used to be. Sometimes you have to meet yourself again.

First, Stop Treating Feeling Lost Like a Personal Failure

We put an enormous amount of pressure on ourselves to know.

Who am I?

What do I want?

What career should I have?

Where should I live?

Who should I love?

What should my life look like?

What’s my purpose?

What am I doing next?

There seems to be an expectation that adulthood eventually delivers some permanent clarity. You choose an identity.

Build a life around it.

And remain that person forever. But people aren’t static.

You experience things.

You learn.

You lose.

You love.

You leave.

You succeed.

You fail.

You discover things about yourself.

Your values change.

Your standards change.

Your interests change.

The things you once desperately wanted can become completely uninteresting. So of course there will be periods where you feel uncertain. Your internal world changed. Now you have to become acquainted with it again.

Instead of immediately asking:

“What’s wrong with me?”

Try asking:

“What has changed?”

That question is much more interesting.

Ask Yourself: Who Have I Been?

Before trying to determine who you’re becoming, look honestly at who you’ve been.

Not just your personality.

Your roles.

Your environments.

Your relationships.

Your responsibilities.

Your expectations.

The identities you’ve carried.

Maybe you became responsible because your environment required responsibility.

Maybe you became agreeable because keeping everyone happy felt safer.

Maybe you became hyper-independent because relying on other people disappointed you.

Maybe you became successful because achievement gave you a sense of worth.

Maybe you became quiet because being expressive wasn’t welcomed.

Maybe you became the person everyone depended on and eventually forgot how to ask:

What do I need? None of this automatically means those qualities aren’t real parts of you.

But it’s worth investigating.

What did I choose?

What did I inherit?

What did I learn?

What did I become because I needed to? And what still belongs to me now?

This is why the beginning of Becoming Her focuses so much on understanding the woman you’ve already been. You can’t consciously reinvent your life if you’ve never examined how your current identity was constructed.

Make a List of the Versions of You

I love thinking about identity through versions.

There isn’t just one you. There was the childhood you.

Teenage you.

First-job you.

College you.

Heartbroken you.

In-love you.

Survival-mode you.

Ambitious you.

Rebellious you.

Quiet you.

Creative you.

The version who lived in that apartment.

The version who had that friendship.

The version who wanted that particular dream.

The version who thought she would never survive something she eventually did.

Write them down. The Versions of Me

Then ask:

What did she love?

What did she believe?

What was she afraid of?

What was she trying to prove?

What did she dream about?

What did she tolerate?

What did she know that I’ve forgotten?

What did she not know yet?

What parts of her do I miss?

What parts am I relieved to have outgrown?

Suddenly, “Who am I?” becomes a much richer question. Because identity isn’t a single answer.

It’s a history.

Figure Out What You Don’t Want Anymore

Sometimes we struggle to identify what we want because we’re asking ourselves to produce a perfect vision for the future. Start somewhere easier.

What doesn’t fit anymore?

Maybe you don’t want to be available to everyone.

Maybe you don’t want your entire identity tied to productivity.

Maybe you don’t want the career you’ve spent years building.

Maybe you don’t want relationships where you’re constantly performing.

Maybe you don’t want to dress the way you’ve always dressed.

Maybe you’re tired of being the “strong one.”

Maybe you don’t want every day to look exactly like the day before it.

Maybe you don’t want to keep shrinking parts of yourself to remain recognizable.

You don’t need to know exactly where you’re going to recognize what you’re ready to leave behind.

Sometimes clarity starts with:

Not this anymore.

Stop Trying to Think Your Way Into a New Identity

This is one of the biggest ideas behind Becoming Her: A Self-Discovery & Personal Reinvention Course for Women:

You cannot discover yourself exclusively by thinking about yourself.

Eventually, you have to live. You need new information.

New experiences.

New environments.

New conversations.

New references.

If every day contains the same people, places, routines, media, conversations and activities, you’re asking yourself to discover new dimensions of your identity without giving yourself new material.

So experiment.

Take yourself somewhere you’ve never been.

Read about something completely unrelated to your career.

Try the class.

Wear something different.

Cook something you’ve never made.

Change your room.

Visit the museum.

Learn photography.

Go to the event alone.

Take a dance class.

Study a language.

Write something terrible.

Try pottery.

Volunteer.

Travel somewhere when you’re able.

Start the ridiculous little project.

Talk to someone outside your normal world.

Not because every experience needs to become your new personality. Because experience gives you information.

You discover:

I love this.

I hate this.

I want more of this.

This isn’t me.

Why have I never tried this before? I didn’t know I could do that. That’s self-discovery too.

Follow Your Curiosity Before You Follow Your Purpose

I think we make “purpose” unnecessarily intimidating.

People ask:

What is my purpose?

As though somewhere there is one correct answer and if they choose incorrectly, they’ve ruined their entire life. Sometimes purpose starts much smaller. With curiosity.

What have you been Googling lately?

What kind of books do you keep buying?

Whose life fascinates you?

What subjects make you talk too much?

What do you save on Pinterest?

What do you watch documentaries about?

What do you wish you knew how to do?

Where do you want to go?

What kind of woman fascinates you?

What would you learn if nobody expected you to monetize it?

Follow those things. Curiosity leaves clues. You don’t always need a grand plan. Sometimes you need a thread.

Pay Attention to Envy Without Judging Yourself

This can be uncomfortable, but envy can be informative.

Instead of immediately shaming yourself for feeling jealous of another woman, ask:

What exactly am I reacting to?

Is it really her?

Or is it her freedom?

Her confidence?

Her career?

Her friendships?

Her creativity?

Her style?

Her willingness to be seen?

Her independence?

Her lifestyle?

Her ability to express something you’ve been suppressing?

Sometimes envy points toward an unlived desire. That doesn’t mean you need her exact life. It means something about what you’re witnessing is waking something up in you. Get curious about it.

Revisit the Things You Loved Before You Became So Practical

There are pieces of ourselves we don’t intentionally abandon.

Life just gets louder.

Responsibilities increase.

Careers become serious.

Relationships take time.

Money matters.

Survival matters.

And slowly, the things we once did simply because we loved them disappear.

Writing.

Drawing.

Dancing.

Fashion.

Reading.

Making videos.

Singing.

Photography.

Swimming.

Decorating.

Playing an instrument.

Creating imaginary worlds.

Whatever yours was.

Ask yourself:

What did I enjoy before I needed everything I did to be productive?

You don’t have to turn it into a career.

You don’t have to become exceptional at it.

You don’t have to post it.

You can simply return to it.

Sometimes finding yourself looks suspiciously like remembering what made you feel alive before you started evaluating everything by its usefulness.

Change Your Environment Before Assuming You Need to Change Yourself

Sometimes you’re not boring. You’re under-stimulated.

Sometimes you’re not uncreative. You’re consuming the same things every day.

Sometimes you’re not antisocial. You’re surrounded by people you don’t feel particularly connected to.

Sometimes you’re not lazy. You’re uninspired by what you’re working toward.

Sometimes you haven’t lost your personality. Your environment simply isn’t giving much of it room to exist.

This is why I think environment matters enormously in reinvention.

Your room.

Your city.

Your social circle.

Your media.

Your routines.

Your workplace.

Your clothes.

Your digital environment.

The places you spend your free time. They all feed information back to you about who you are.

Ask:

Does my current environment support the woman I’m curious about becoming?

You don’t necessarily need to move across the country. Sometimes rearranging one room is enough to signal:

Something is changing here.

Stop Waiting Until You’re “Her” to Start Living Like Her

We love imagining the future woman.

When I’m more confident, I’ll wear that.

When I make more money, I’ll go there.

When I’m successful, I’ll take myself seriously.

When I’m prettier, I’ll take photographs.

When I have friends to go with, I’ll attend the event.

When I become disciplined, I’ll start the project.

When I’m finally “her,” I’ll live differently.

But how exactly do you become her if you keep postponing every behavior associated with her? This doesn’t mean pretending you’re living a life you can’t afford.

It means asking:

What is one thing she would do that is available to me now?

Maybe she reads every morning. Start with ten pages.

Maybe she’s adventurous. Visit somewhere new this weekend.

Maybe she dresses expressively. Wear the outfit.

Maybe she writes. Open the document.

Maybe she’s social. Attend one event.

Maybe she’s creative. Make something.

Maybe she takes herself seriously. Send the application.

Your future identity isn’t built entirely through visualization. It’s built through evidence. Give yourself evidence.

Build a Life That Gives You Something to Discover

One of the reasons I created Becoming Her was because I became increasingly interested in the relationship between identity and experience.

We talk constantly about “finding ourselves.” But what if part of finding yourself is simply giving yourself more life to respond to?

More beauty.

More conversations.

More mistakes.

More books.

More places.

More attempts.

More hobbies.

More opinions.

More experiences.

Maybe You Don’t Need to Find Yourself Again

I’ve been thinking about the phrase find yourself again. Again implies returning. Returning to the woman you were before the relationship.

Before motherhood.

Before the difficult years.

Before the career.

Before the heartbreak.

Before responsibility.

Before life became complicated.

And sometimes returning to pieces of her is beautiful. But I don’t think the goal should always be getting the old you back.

She didn’t know everything you know now.

She hadn’t experienced everything you’ve experienced.

She hadn’t changed in all the ways you’ve changed.

Maybe feeling lost isn’t always an invitation to go backward.

Maybe it’s an invitation to ask:

Who am I now?

Not who was I supposed to become?

Not who does everyone remember me as?

Not who would be easiest for other people to understand?

Who am I now?

What do I like?

What do I believe?

What interests me?

What am I ready to leave behind?

What do I want to experience?

What kind of life feels worth participating in?

What parts of myself haven’t I even met yet?

You don’t have to answer all of those questions today. That’s the beautiful part.

You get to investigate.

Experiment.

Change your mind.

Try again.

Become fascinated.

Be surprised by yourself.

Maybe you’re not supposed to “find” one permanent version of yourself at all.

Maybe you’re supposed to keep meeting yourself throughout your life.

And if you’re in one of those seasons now—where the old version of you doesn’t quite fit, but you aren’t sure what comes next—Becoming Her: A Self-Discovery & Personal Reinvention Course for Women was created for that exact in-between.

Not to tell you who to become. But to help you become curious enough to discover her.

You haven’t lost yourself. There may simply be more of you left to meet.

How to Find Yourself Again When You Feel Lost in Life