I Miss the Old Me… So I Went Looking for Her

Have you ever looked in the mirror and you no longer recognized yourself. Like where had I gone. I used to be funny. I used to be slim. I used to love going places on the spur of a moment. I loved being around people and just talking. And lately everything has felt hard. Or like it's someone else and no longer who I thought I was. It is a hard moment and an even harder jolt to see yourself and not even recognize who is looking back at you. As I looked in the mirror I thought I Miss the Old Me… So I Went Looking for Her

A lot of people assume things about me. They assume I am always ok. They assume I never really need anything. I have always been the strong one. I was always the one figuring out things for everyone else. And I guess it's my own fault I never really let people know when I need something.

It’s jarring. It’s painful. And it’s one of the loneliest feelings in the world.

People don’t always see it. They make assumptions. They think you’re always okay, because you’ve always been the strong one. The one who holds everything together. The one who figures things out, fixes problems, keeps moving, keeps helping, keeps giving. And maybe — without meaning to — you never really let anyone know when you needed something.

So you stay quiet. You keep showing up. You keep being strong… even when you’re tired of being strong. And little by little, you drift further from the version of you that felt light, joyful, playful, spontaneous — the version you remember so clearly.

I get it. Truly.

And here’s the scariest part:

You don’t lose yourself all at once. You lose yourself in tiny ways —in the things you put off, in the places you stop going, in the spark you stop protecting, in the needs you silence because “everyone else needs me first.”

I learned how to be a person who does for everyone. I was capable and strong and most of the time I love doing it. I love being there for everyone. But Lord knows sometimes I need someone to have my back.

I think you just get so used to the way you actually crafted this part of life that you forget you had a life before marriage, before kids, before work, before life handed you a dozen broken raw eggs. Like what am I supposed to do with this and how to get some resemblance of who I was?

Now let's be honest I was never the wittiest person in the room, but I had some hilarious moments. I remember, so many things I used to do. I don't know why I quit. I used to travel everywhere. I always had a ton of friends. And the kind of friends that had your back when you weren't around. I miss that. It feels like now there is always an agenda. It's not like friends anymore it's like a business transaction. I cannot begin to pin point when my personality changed, when I began holding onto weight I used to easily drop, or how I went from the life of the party, to the girl who stays home all the time.

I keep looking for that girl. I keep looking for her, but she is not there. Maybe this is now my life, maybe this is my new life and I just can't change it. Maybe I can't just get up and go at the drop of a hat. Could it be there are just too many responsibilities. Could it be that I need to learn to say no, too?

Used to be, like years and years ago, when I was upset or needed someone I just picked up the phone or got in my car and went to there house. I didn't need to call. And they were always there with kalua and coffee and a hair brush to sing into. I was thinking hard about it, and I don't have those types of people here close to me, anymore. Seems like everyone is like me now, so much responsibility we no longer get to be carefree. I think this is a terrible realization.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand, slowly and with a lot of grace:

Maybe the old me isn’t missing. Maybe she’s just evolved.

Maybe she’s still in there — not as loud, not as reckless, not as carefree — but steadier. Softer. Wiser. More intentional. More rooted. More aware of what matters and what doesn’t.

Maybe the girl I keep searching for isn’t supposed to come back…because the woman I am now deserves the space to exist.

And maybe the reason I haven’t “found myself” yet is because I’ve been looking backward instead of opening my heart to the possibility that I’m becoming someone new — someone I might actually really love if I gave her the chance.

I’m learning that it’s okay to change. It’s okay to grow. It’s okay not to be the same woman I was at 20, 30, or even last year. It’s okay to let life shape me and soften me at the same time.

And if you’re here too — standing in front of the mirror wondering where you went — I want you to hear this in the most gentle way:

You haven’t disappeared. You’re shifting.

You’re not lost. You’re becoming.

You’re not broken. You’re evolving.

You don’t have to fight to bring back an old version of you. You get to learn the new version — the one your life has been quietly carving, forming, strengthening. The one who made it through every hard moment you thought would break you. The one who is still here, still trying, still hoping.

You are not behind. You are not too late. And you are not done.

You’re just entering a new season — one where you get to choose who you want to be next.