How to Find Myself: A Journey Through the Wilderness of Self-Discovery
I remember sitting in my car at 2 AM in a grocery store parking lot, ugly-crying to a Taylor Swift song, when it hit me: I had absolutely no idea who I was anymore. Not in some dramatic, existential crisis way—though maybe a little bit that too—but in the very real sense that if someone had asked me to describe myself beyond my job title and relationship status, I would've drawn a complete blank.
That moment kicked off what became a three-year odyssey of trying to "find myself," whatever that meant. And let me tell you, it's nothing like what the Instagram quotes make it seem.
The Problem with Looking for Something That's Already There
Here's the thing nobody tells you about finding yourself: you're not actually lost. You're just buried under layers of other people's expectations, societal shoulds, and that weird voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your high school guidance counselor.
When I started this whole journey, I thought finding myself would be like discovering some hidden treasure chest containing my "true self"—complete with a detailed instruction manual and maybe a cool soundtrack. Instead, it was more like archaeological excavation, slowly brushing away years of accumulated dust to reveal something that had been there all along.
The real kicker? Most of us don't even realize we're lost until something shakes us awake. For me, it was that parking lot moment. For you, it might be a breakup, a job loss, or just waking up one day and realizing you've been living someone else's life.
Why We Lose Ourselves in the First Place
Let's back up a second. How does a person even lose themselves? It's not like we wake up one day and decide to misplace our identity like a set of car keys.
It happens slowly, almost imperceptibly. You make one small compromise here, adopt someone else's dream there. You say yes when you mean no. You choose the practical major instead of the one that makes your heart sing. You stay in relationships that feel like wearing shoes two sizes too small. Before you know it, you're living a life that looks good on paper but feels like wearing someone else's skin.
I spent my twenties collecting achievements like Pokemon cards—good job, check; respectable relationship, check; apartment with exposed brick, check—only to realize I'd built a life that photographed well but felt empty. The person I'd become was a carefully curated version designed to win approval from people whose opinions, frankly, shouldn't have mattered that much.
The Messy Middle: What Finding Yourself Actually Looks Like
So there I was, post-parking lot breakdown, ready to Find Myself with capital letters. I did what any millennial would do: I bought a journal, downloaded meditation apps, and briefly considered a yoga retreat in Bali (I didn't go—turns out finding yourself can happen just fine in suburban Ohio).
The first few months were... rough. Turns out, when you strip away all the external validation and borrowed identities, what's left can be pretty uncomfortable to sit with. I discovered I had no idea what I actually enjoyed doing. My hobbies were either things I thought made me look interesting or activities I did because someone else enjoyed them.
I started with small experiments. Ridiculously small. Like, "what kind of coffee do I actually like when I'm not trying to impress anyone?" level small. (Turns out, I hate espresso and love those sugary seasonal drinks I'd been too pretentious to order.)
Then came bigger questions. What did I value when no one was watching? What made me feel alive versus what I did because I thought I should? I spent an embarrassing amount of time in bookstores, wandering sections I'd never explored, picking up books on topics I'd dismissed as "not for me."
The Uncomfortable Truth About Authenticity
Here's something that might piss some people off: authenticity is overrated. Or rather, the Instagram version of authenticity—the one where you suddenly discover your "true self" and everything falls into place—is complete BS.
Real authenticity is messy and contradictory. It's discovering that you're both an introvert who needs alone time AND someone who occasionally craves being the center of attention at karaoke night. It's realizing you can be ambitious and also want to spend entire weekends doing absolutely nothing productive.
I found that my "authentic self" wasn't some fixed entity waiting to be discovered. It was more like a jazz improvisation—themes and patterns that evolved and changed while still maintaining a recognizable melody.
Practical Things That Actually Helped (And Some That Didn't)
Let me save you some time and money. Here's what actually moved the needle:
Writing, but not in a "dear diary" way. I started doing morning pages—three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing every morning. Most of it was garbage, but occasionally I'd stumble upon some truth I'd been avoiding. The key was writing fast enough that my inner editor couldn't keep up.
Saying no to things and paying attention to the relief or regret. This was huge. I started declining invitations, commitments, and opportunities—not forever, just experimentally. The physical sensation of relief or disappointment told me more than any amount of pro/con lists.
Revisiting who you were before the world told you who to be. I dug up old journals from high school, looked at childhood photos, called up friends from different life phases. Not to live in the past, but to look for patterns—what themes kept showing up before I learned to edit myself?
Therapy, but with the right therapist. I went through three before finding one who got it. The right therapist doesn't just nod and ask "how does that make you feel?" They call you on your BS and help you excavate the beliefs you didn't even know you were carrying.
What didn't help? Personality tests (fun but ultimately limiting), comparing my journey to others' highlight reels, and anything that promised to help me "find my purpose" in 30 days or less.
The Plot Twist: You're Not One Thing
About a year into this whole thing, I had another parking lot revelation (apparently, I do my best thinking in parking lots). I'd been trying to find my "true self" as if it were a single, coherent thing. Like I was going to uncover some essential "me-ness" that would make everything make sense.
But people aren't brands. We're not consistent, cohesive entities with mission statements. We're walking contradictions, beautiful messes of competing desires and evolving dreams.
I am someone who loves solitude and also fears being alone. I crave stability but get restless in routine. I want deep connections but need massive amounts of personal space. These aren't flaws to be fixed or contradictions to be resolved. They're the whole point.
What Nobody Tells You About the Other Side
So did I find myself? Yes and no.
Yes, in that I now have a pretty good sense of what matters to me, what I'm willing to fight for, and what I can let go. I know my non-negotiables and my nice-to-haves. I can sit alone in a restaurant without feeling like I need to explain myself to anyone.
No, in that I didn't discover some fixed, permanent identity. Instead, I found something better: the confidence to keep evolving without losing my center. I learned that finding yourself isn't a destination—it's developing the skills to stay connected to who you are while still allowing room to grow.
These days, I check in with myself regularly. Not in some formal, scheduled way, but through small moments of honesty. Am I doing this because I want to or because I think I should? Does this choice move me closer to or further from the life I want to be living?
The Part Where I'm Supposed to Wrap This Up Neatly
Look, I could end this with some inspirational quote about the journey being the destination or whatever. But the truth is messier and more liberating: finding yourself is an ongoing process of paying attention, getting curious about your own reactions, and having the courage to honor what you discover—even when it's inconvenient, contradictory, or doesn't photograph well.
You don't find yourself by looking harder or traveling farther. You find yourself by stopping long enough to notice who you already are beneath all the noise. And then—and this is the hard part—actually believing that person is enough.
That night in the parking lot, crying to Taylor Swift? That was me. So is the person writing this, and the person I'll be tomorrow. The goal isn't to find some perfect, final version of yourself. It's to get comfortable with the beautiful, messy, ever-evolving human you already are.
Even if that human occasionally has emotional breakdowns in parking lots.
Especially then, actually.
Authoritative Sources:
Brown, Brené. The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are. Hazelden Publishing, 2010.
Cameron, Julia. The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. TarcherPerigee, 2016.
Hollis, Rachel. Girl, Wash Your Face: Stop Believing the Lies About Who You Are so You Can Become Who You Were Meant to Be. Thomas Nelson, 2018.
Palmer, Parker J. Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation. Jossey-Bass, 1999.
Rubin, Gretchen. The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun. Harper, 2009.