I Missed Myself Too

I haven’t written a reflection in a while, mostly because life started moving faster than I could process it.

The past few months have felt unfamiliar in a way I can’t fully explain yet. Not necessarily bad, just different. Like I woke up one day and realized my life no longer felt fully connected to the person I used to be.

A lot has changed recently, I went through a breakup that, honestly, forced me to look at myself more deeply than I had in a long time. Not in a dramatic or angry way, and not in a way where I want to blame another person for where I’m at now, but in a way that made me realize how quietly I had drifted away from myself.

I think the hardest part of all of this has been realizing how much of myself I slowly gave up without even noticing.

Before that relationship, I was incredibly independent. I loved doing things on my own. I loved spending time outside, going on solo drives, hiking, writing, exploring new places, and building a life that genuinely felt like mine. Over time, though, I stopped prioritizing those parts of myself. My world became smaller without me fully realizing it.

And I don’t say that to blame anyone.

I think sometimes when you love someone deeply, you naturally start building your routines, comfort, and identity around them. But somewhere along the way, I stopped checking in with myself. I stopped asking whether I still felt fulfilled, inspired, connected to myself, or even happy in the ways that used to matter to me.

When the relationship ended, I expected to just miss the person. What I didn’t expect was realizing how much I missed myself too.

There’s something strange about starting over at 26. You’re old enough to feel like you should have life figured out, but young enough to realize you’re still becoming who you are. Lately, my life has looked like apartment searches, reconnecting with old parts of myself, navigating uncertainty, meeting new people, and trying to redefine what “home” even means to me now.

Some days feel exciting. Other days feel lonely.

But somewhere in all of this, I’ve started noticing small pieces of myself returning.

I’ve started craving the outdoors again. Long walks with no destination. Early mornings. Fresh air. Music in my headphones. Writing just to write. Quiet moments where I can actually hear my own thoughts again.

I forgot how much peace I used to find in my own company.

And maybe that’s what this season of life is teaching me.

Not every relationship is meant to destroy you. Some relationships simply reveal the places where you abandoned yourself along the way. Sometimes losing something familiar forces you to reconnect with the person you were before you started shrinking your needs, routines, passions, or individuality.

I think for a while I confused closeness with losing parts of myself. Now I’m learning that the healthiest kind of love should allow you to become even more yourself, not less.

That realization has been painful, but honestly, it’s also been exciting.

Because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m rediscovering the version of myself that used to feel so alive. The version of me that craves independence, adventure, movement, spontaneity, creativity, and quiet moments alone in nature.

And honestly, as difficult as this season has been, there’s also something exciting about it.

For the first time in a long time, I feel open to my own life again. To new places. New routines. New friendships. New experiences. New versions of myself I haven’t met yet.

I don’t fully know where I’m going from here, but I think that’s part of growing up too - realizing life can completely change direction and still turn into something beautiful.

Right now, I’m just learning how to trust myself again.

And for the first time in a while, that feels enough.