Maybe You Didn’t Lose Yourself
What if you simply became someone who learned to listen outward more than inward?
I’ve been thinking about that lately.
Because we often talk about “finding ourselves,” as if one day we wandered off course and now need to retrace our steps.
I’m not sure that’s what happens.
I wonder if something much quieter happens instead.
Little by little, we become incredibly skilled at reading the room.
We notice what makes people happy.
What earns approval.
What keeps the peace.
What gets rewarded.
What gets praised.
None of that is inherently bad.
In fact, it’s part of learning to live with other people.
But I wonder if there’s a cost when we become fluent in everyone else’s expectations while slowly forgetting our own inner language.
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Think about how often you’re asked questions like these:
“What do you do?”
“What’s your five-year plan?”
“How are the kids?”
“Are you staying busy?”
They’re normal questions.
But they all point your attention outward.
Toward roles."
Toward productivity.
Toward performance.
Very few people ask,
“What has been making you feel most alive lately?”
Or,
“What have you been quietly curious about?”
Maybe that’s why those questions can feel strangely emotional.
Not because they’re difficult.
Because they’ve become unfamiliar.
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I don’t think most of us wake up one morning and decide to stop listening to ourselves.
I think we simply get better and better at listening to everything else.
The deadlines.
The expectations.
The opinions.
The endless advice about who we should become.
Eventually, it becomes difficult to tell the difference between what you truly want…
…and what you’ve simply become accustomed to pursuing.
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That’s why I don’t think reconnecting with yourself is about becoming less responsible.
It’s about becoming more honest.
Honest about what energizes you.
Honest about what quietly drains you.
Honest about what no longer fits—even if it used to.
Life changes.
We change.
Maybe it’s okay if the things that once fit us don’t fit forever.
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The older I get, the more I believe curiosity is one of the most underrated forms of wisdom.
Not certainty.
Not confidence.
Curiosity.
Curiosity asks,
“Why does that matter so much to me?”
“Why do I keep coming back to that idea?”
“Why do I feel lighter when I’m there?”
“Why did that moment stay with me?”
Those questions don’t demand immediate answers.
They simply ask you to pay attention.
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I’ve started wondering if paying attention is one of the kindest things we can do for ourselves.
Not because it solves everything.
Because it reconnects us to our own experience.
And maybe that’s where so much clarity comes from.
Not from trying harder.
From noticing more honestly.
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I don’t think you need to rush toward an answer after reading this.
In fact, I hope you don’t.
Some questions deserve time.
Maybe this is one of them.
The next time something quietly captures your attention…
Don’t dismiss it too quickly.
Stay with it for a moment.
Sometimes the smallest moments of curiosity end up pointing toward the biggest changes.
And sometimes…
they’re simply reminding you that your own inner voice has been there all along, patiently waiting for you to notice.
— Christeen
