Becoming the Main character

Subtitle: Because crying at dog commercials won’t heal you – rediscovering yourself in your 20s (and then again in your 30s, so I hear)

People always talk about “rediscovering yourself after having a baby.” And yes—so valid. Your brain rewires itself. It’s hard. It sucks.

But what we don’t talk about enough is how that same identity shift can sneak in at any point. Sometimes it follows a big life change. Other times, it’s just this slow unraveling—when your routines take over and the version of yourself you used to feel connected to starts to fade.

You graduate. You move. You get married. Start a career. Switch careers. Then you move again. Maybe you have a baby. Maybe you get a dog (which totally counts as a child). Maybe you stop talking to people you thought would be around forever. Everything changes—and suddenly, so do you.

Someone asks, “Tell me about yourself” or “What do you do for fun?” and your brain just… short circuits.
Does sleep count? Organizing my Amazon cart?
I don’t know—can you just tell me what you want me to be? Because I’ll morph into that real quick. (I’ve always been “adaptable”—aka really good at becoming whatever the people around me need. Even when it means losing track of myself in the process.)

This blog was born from that moment—that weird limbo where life is technically “fine,” but you still feel like you’ve misplaced yourself somewhere between your inbox at work and the group texts you haven’t replied to in four days.

So what does it actually mean to find yourself again?

Not in the aesthetic sense. Not in a “what’s my thing” way. I mean remembering who you are without the job title, the relationship status, the “everything to everyone” hat, or the mental to-do list running in the background 24/7.

Sometimes that reconnection happens in a quiet moment alone. Sometimes it happens when something lights you up again—like a conversation that makes you laugh too hard or a random idea that pulls you out of autopilot.

And yes, sometimes that thing is a hobby. But sometimes, it’s not.

Here’s what I’ve learned (and am still learning) about becoming the main character of your own life again:

• You can love your life and still feel a little disconnected from it.
  It doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. It means you’re human. And if you’re craving a deeper connection with yourself, that’s not selfish—it’s sacred.

• You don’t need to perform for the world.
  You don’t have to show up as the “fun one” or the “organized one” or the “strong one” if that’s not where you are right now. Letting go of the role you’ve been playing isn’t failure—it’s freedom.

• Hobbies can help—but they’re not the answer.
  They’re one way in. Not the way. You don’t have to bake bread, ride horses, or get super into puzzles (I hate puzzles with a passion) to rediscover your identity. You just have to feel something again. Even if it’s subtle.

• You don’t have to be good at it.
  Whatever “it” ends up being—trying something new, asking for help, setting a boundary, showing up differently—it doesn’t have to be perfect. I recently hit a wall with my horse that I couldn’t get past, so I brought in a trainer. And honestly? I’m proud of that. Growth doesn’t require mastery. It just requires movement.

• And if you don’t have a “thing” right now? That’s okay too.
  You’re not behind. You’re not boring. You’re not broken.
  → You are still worth knowing—even if you don’t have a hobby, a hustle, or a quirky personality trait that fits in a cute little box.
  Some seasons are for searching. Some are for resting. Some are just for surviving.
  And none of them make you less of yourself.

So if you’re in a season of not quite knowing who you are—here’s your permission to explore it. You’re not lost, and you’re not broken. You’re just evolving. And that’s allowed. Encouraged, even.

Try something. Try nothing. Sit with yourself. Move your body. Call someone who makes you laugh. Take a solo drive with your favorite music on full blast. Write a thought down in the Notes app and don’t share it with anyone.

The goal isn’t to “find yourself” in some dramatic, movie-montage kind of way. It’s to slowly rebuild the connection between who you are and who you’re becoming.

So here’s your permission slip—crumpled, lost in the bottom of my purse, but still totally valid—to show up messy, curious, and in progress. You don’t need to monetize it. You don’t need to master it. You just need to feel like you again.

xo,
Kate