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What if your entire life isn’t really yours?
What if the thoughts spinning in your head, repeating themselves day after monotonous day, aren’t actually your thoughts? What if the desires you’ve chased for so long aren’t what your soul truly craves? What if even that “self” staring back at you in the mirror is just a mask you put on because that’s what you were “supposed” to do?
I was around 30 when this question started buzzing like a persistent mosquito in my head. An inner voice began telling me that everything I’d been living up to that point wasn’t real. It wasn’t mine.
Who the hell am I, anyway???
From the outside, everything looked fine – my career was going well, I was planning to “settle down,” I was “on the right track.” But the existential crisis that began then, the searching that followed, didn’t last just a few sleepless nights – it went on for years. And when understanding finally came, it brought one of the most important revelations: I had already been myself before!
I was authentic as a child. I’d just somehow managed to forget.
Today I’m 34. For more than three years now, I’ve been traveling backward – back to that little girl who was still ME. I’m trying to remember who I was before I grew up. Before someone told me what I “must,” “should,” or “have to” do.
And I want to tell you what this looks like in real life – not in theory, but with all the stumbles, doubts, and small (or big) victories. Because maybe you also lost yourself somewhere along the way. And you don’t know how to find your way back.
The Mask the Adults Gave Me
When I’ve talked with my mom or aunts about what I was like as a child, the answers have been interesting: “wild,” “disobedient,” “tireless.” The most positive “compliment” was probably “very energetic.” The “good girl” label never fit me.
As a child, I loved creating – drawing, writing stories and poems, reading. And what didn’t I like? I didn’t like being pushed around and rejected, living according to adults’ instructions and anything that demanded obedience without meaning. I was Pippi Longstocking – wild, playful, refusing to follow any rules, free. A girl who slept with her feet on the pillow and made up her own rules.
And somehow, over the years, I forgot that. Not all at once. Little by little.
The adults told me I had to grow up – I had to obey, had to stop playing, get serious and focus on “real things” – money, career, stability. Be normal.
They gradually encouraged me to “become” – meaning, to put on a mask – the mask of a “serious, successful, responsible woman.” And I put it on.
That mask helped me a lot; it wasn’t just a burden or something evil. It taught me discipline, responsibility, the ability to finish what I start. It gave me tools to survive in a world that isn’t kind to childlike spontaneity. It helped (and helps every day) to handle practical matters and keeps me from giving up in difficult moments.
The problems didn’t start when I put on the mask. They started when I FORGOT it was just a mask. When I began to think the mask was me.
For a long time, the mask fit me perfectly – I studied diligently, worked hard, did everything the right way. I tried to build serious relationships, have a serious job, save for my own place, and at some point even planned for a family.
It worked until that same question started nagging at me inside.
But what if none of this is mine?
The Inner Voice That Can’t Be Silenced
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t silence that inner voice. It wasn’t shouting – it just persistently whispered. But that whisper burned like a smoldering coal.
This isn’t my life. Who am I, really?
And then the collapse began. Slow, almost invisible. I was around 30 when I started asking: what’s the point of all this? Why am I working a job whose only benefit to me is money? What’s the point of relationships where I feel lonely and misunderstood? What’s the point of a life that looks right from the outside but feels empty inside?
Will I be able to look in the mirror one day and tell myself: “Wow, what an extraordinary life I’ve lived!“? Or will I just feel drained by meaninglessness and wrong choices?
And then this question became unavoidable: who am I really?
I’ll be honest – I still haven’t found the answer, even though I’m 34 now. And there are still moments when I feel stuck – in life, in myself, in creative stagnation. I don’t want to lie to you or myself.
I was even certain that the answers lay somewhere far from home – that I’d find them by running away from my usual environment, leaving behind what was familiar. So I just packed everything I had into one suitcase and moved to Bali.
But Bali didn’t provide the answers.
Ironically, it was there – among the palm trees, temples, and endless summer – that I understood the most important thing: you can’t run from yourself.
I thought the problems came from my environment – from that city, those people, that routine. That I just needed to change the scenery and suddenly everything would be clear. But Bali showed me something else: that wherever you go, you carry yourself with you. With all your questions, doubts, and anxieties.
And that the external world can’t heal what’s happening inside.
This realization was incredibly painful. It meant there was nowhere left to run. No one left to blame. No way to avoid the big work that no one could do for me – to look at myself and ask: “So what now? What’s next?”
This will probably sound cliché, but the truth is: you can’t run from existential thoughts. They’re inside us, giving birth to new questions every day, no matter what part of the world you’re in.
So what helped me?
I’ll reveal the secret: there’s no one wise answer. And certainly no magic elixir.
What helped me was one simple but difficult decision – to stop running from that question and admit to myself that “I don’t know” is also an answer.
What helped was the courage to look at that shadow I’d hidden under the mask of “success” – at that wild girl who wants to write, create, wander without a plan, who doesn’t want to work 9 to 5 and live within someone else’s prescribed framework.
What helped was understanding that being lost is also a path. Not an easy one. But mine.
What It Means to Remember Yourself (And Why It’s Not Easy)
The biggest change in my life isn’t settling in a new country or a drastic career shift, but the fact that I increasingly allow myself to feel like a small child. I’m rediscovering what I like, remembering and recreating old, forgotten hobbies, and I know what path – this time chosen by myself – I’m walking.
To be completely honest – this process isn’t just cozy and pleasant. It’s not simply “remember what you loved in childhood and become happy.”
Sometimes remembering yourself means acknowledging how much time you’ve lost. How many years you lived someone else’s life. And that hurts.
Sometimes it means facing fear: “What if I try and still fail? What if no one needs the real, different me?”
And sometimes – often – it means fighting with yourself. With that part of you that still wants to be “normal,” “successful by standard measures,” “acceptable to others.”
This path definitely isn’t a bed of roses.
I’m still broke. For three years now, I’ve been hanging on, trying various activities, experimenting with new projects, and I’m still not where I want to be. Career clarity only started to emerge in recent years – after numerous attempts, I’ve clarified what field I want to realize myself in.
And yet – there are days when I just want to give up. Days when I think: “Maybe it would be simpler to go back to what I knew? Back to that mask that was at least safe?”
But then I remember – safety without meaning is just a beautifully decorated prison cell.
What Do I Do?
I started writing. Every morning, even when I really don’t feel like it, I write at least a few sentences in my journal – not for others, but for myself. I write what feels true to me today. I also write what in that moment feels like self-deception. It’s incredibly important to be able to notice and recognize these differences.
I ask myself: “Did I make this decision as ME, or as that ‘me’ who’s afraid of disappointing others?”
I allow myself to experiment. Right now I’m not ready for any big changes, but I’m letting small, simple novelties into my life. I try a new hobby. I make tea not the way I’m “supposed to,” but the way I want to. I talk to strangers not because it’s “proper,” but because getting to know people is genuinely fun.
And most importantly – I no longer play the superhero role in my own life. I don’t stress about mess if I simply don’t feel inspired to tidy up in that moment. If I have no motivation that day – I acknowledge it and don’t force myself. If I catch myself in doubt—I name it and reflect on where those thoughts came from.
Because remembering yourself isn’t about finding a perfect, ideal “me.” It’s about accepting all your “me”s – that little girl, that grown woman, and the one who still doesn’t know who she is.
I’m becoming Pippi Longstocking again and understanding why she never needed to be suppressed.
Not because she was perfect. But because she was alive.
If You’re Reading This…
I’m not special, and I definitely know I’m not alone. If you’re reading this text, you’re probably also asking questions about existence, about life’s purpose and authenticity. You’re also searching for how to find balance between what you “must” do and what your heart is truly telling you to do.
You understand that you don’t want to just drift through your life anymore. You understand that every minute spent on this Earth matters, and you want to be more than just an observer here – you want to find meaning, you want to be yourself without imposed masks.
You’ve already tried living the “right” way, but you realized that path isn’t for you. And it doesn’t matter at all when this realization came to you – at 20, 30, or 65. We all have different internal rhythms, different experiences, and of course, norms that came from family and culture.
We’re not looking for an “Instagram life,” not a life based on others’ examples, but authenticity, freedom, fullness. Not because we’re special, but because we can’t do otherwise. Because the inner voice won’t be silenced.
And maybe your inner wild Pippi finally made you stop and asked: “Is this really YOUR life?”
Or maybe it’s time to start asking differently: not who I should be, but who I really am.
It’s incredibly important to realize that the question isn’t “who was I in childhood.” The question is: “who do I WANT TO BECOME – with all my adult experience, with all my doubts, knowledge, and wounds?”
Because the real “me” is neither that little girl nor that grown woman. The real “me” is a synthesis of both. It’s the child who wants to play and the adult who knows how to do it in a way that also survives in this sometimes so complicated world.
It’s spontaneity matured into courage. Playfulness turned into creativity. Disobedience become conscious choice.
What Remains Unsaid
Now I know that life isn’t just checking boxes in a life planner, working for corporations, or sacrificing yourself for others’ well-being. And certainly life isn’t forgetting your creative nature.
I also know that authenticity isn’t a luxury – it’s a necessity.
But here’s what I still don’t know: will I ever manage to get on my feet financially living this way? Will it ever get easier? Will I ever stop doubting whether I did the right thing leaving that “safe” life?
Sometimes I still think – maybe those adults were right? Maybe I should have just shut up and lived like everyone else? Perhaps authenticity is a luxury only those who already have money can afford?
But then I remember – I tried living the way I was “supposed to.” And it nearly swallowed me whole.
So maybe the real question isn’t “is it worth it?” but “can I do otherwise?”
And the answer I feel with my entire being is: no. I can’t do otherwise.
You’re not a blank sheet of paper. You never were.
But you’re also not just that little girl or boy who played without worries. You’re much more – you’re someone who can combine childlike freedom with adult wisdom. Someone who can create not by running from life, but by living wholeheartedly.
And maybe the real question isn’t even “who am I?”
Maybe the real question is: “Do I choose to live the way I feel is right – even if it sometimes raises doubts, even if it’s not always easy, even if my environment doesn’t always understand?“
I know my answer.
Yes. I choose. Because I tried living differently – and that wasn’t my life.
🤍