“What happens when you change your life so much that you don’t know who you are anymore?”

I have always been very open about my life. During my teenage years and early 20s, I shared many exciting experiences, such as partying with friends, participating in athletic activities, pursuing big dreams, attending university, and having wild one-night stands. As I entered my mid-20s, my life took a turn for the worse. I began speaking publicly about my struggles with mental illness and feelings of brokenness. I felt like a victim, constantly sharing the turmoil I was going through. I became hopeless and felt trapped with no way out.

One day, I asked myself whether I wanted to remain sick or if I wanted to get better. I chose to pursue healing. After a decade of hard work, therapy, various relationships, moving to new cities, and adopting a positive attitude, I entered my 30s and started to turn my life around. By the time I reached 35, I felt more together than ever before.

As I transitioned from being a hot mess express to the master of my destiny, I became public about my sobriety from alcohol and my struggles with weed. People cheered me on. I shared my journey on social media, showcasing my new life and how well I was doing. However, I didn’t realize that my authenticity was slowly fading, and I was falling into the trap of perfectionism that had affected much of my life.

I started to clean up my image, posting only the positive aspects of my life. After experiencing such a chaotic past, I felt the need to prove to others that I was okay. It was as if I was shouting, “Look over here! Look at me! I am better now; I am doing great! I have it all figured out!!”

I began viewing life in black and white: right and wrong, good and bad. I drove myself crazy trying to perfect my morning routine and supplement regimen, wanting every area of my existence to be amazing. I tried countless biohacks to improve my quality of life. I became obsessed with clean eating, ice baths, exercise routines, red light therapy, intermittent fasting, acupuncture, sauna, and impeccable sleep hygiene. I started screenshotting inspirational quotes and taking dozens of perfect photos. I even lived by themed days of the week like Motivational Monday, Transformation Tuesday, and Workout Wednesday— you get the idea.

As I began to filter myself I started to lose pieces of my identity. Even my captions and blogs were becoming watered down. I started to pick apart pieces of my personality and was addicted to making life alterations. Then I started to wonder, how much of myself did I need to change before I completely lost all of me?

For months I posted inspirational content and tried to maintain a flawless Instagram feed thinking this would encourage others to better their lives, but I was mistaken. I now realize that although my intentions were good, my approach came off the wrong way. It seemed like I was bragging about my glow-up and achievements while many others were struggling. My goal has always been to be honest and inspire, but my new lifestyle felt inauthentic. As I became less genuine, I noticed fewer people interacting and connecting with me. I was slowly becoming fake as fuck.

Instead of backing down I went even harder. I started reading countless self-help books and listening to self-improvement podcasts as if it were my job. I become completely neurotic and felt like I was making some sort of upgrade or change to my life every week. I found myself giving advice to people who didn’t ask for it and flaunting my progress in front of others. I had become addicted to self-improvement, and it was starting to have more negative effects than positive ones.

(Now let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with self-improvement; in fact, I encourage it and will never stop pursuing it. However, becoming obsessed and making it an addiction can be detrimental. Now I believe there is no need to brag about my journey. If people are curious about it, they can ask. From this point on I don’t feel the need to tell anyone what to do or what is best for them; only you know what is best for you <3)

As I got deeper into my self-help charade, I celebrated two and a half years alcohol-free and set a goal to remain sober for life. This goal pushes me to keep going even if I fall off track. I then completed 90 days without weed and couldn’t believe how incredible my life felt. As proud as I was there was something itching me on the inside. It was like my perfectionism was screaming, “You are almost there. A little further! Just keep going, and you will be perfect.”

For the first time, I experienced a sense of calm and control… or so I thought. In reality, I struggled with the urge to prove myself to others and I couldn’t stop. All the negative things people said about me, my mental health, and my past mistakes swirled in my mind like screws in a blender. I wanted to demonstrate that I was in control of all parts of my life – my sobriety, weight, job, finances, relationships, and mental health. Unfortunately, I was doing all of this for the wrong reasons.

The old version of myself resented this new and improved version. While the new me pretended to be perfect—training for marathons and eating organic—the old me was on the couch, smoking a joint, eating a pint of ice cream, and waiting for the new me to fall back into her old ways. I constantly felt torn between my past self and my present self. I literally didn’t know who I was anymore. The more neurotic I became, the less I understood myself. I couldn’t separate my personality from my high standards.

As I continued to improve my life I felt immense shame for who I used to be, which makes me sad because that girl was wonderful too. Even during my struggles with mental instability, I still had value and a lot to offer the world. I built many meaningful relationships and developed various important life skills during those challenging times.

That 27-year-old version of me fought hard to get through each minute, enduring everything from medication mishaps to hospitalizations. She persevered through blackouts, sexual assault, poverty, and traumatic life events. As I continue my healing journey, I’ve realized that I need to love all versions of myself—whether I was heavy or thin, mentally unstable or stable, rich or poor, high or low. My powerful and painful past is what makes me who I am today and I am damn proud of that.

2 months ago when I experienced yet another self-help burn out cycle I got off all social media and started incorporating a daily meditation practice into my routine. After each meditation session, I realized that my ego was running the show and that I had been pretending to be someone I’m not. This was a tough pill to swallow. Only showcasing the positive aspects of my life overlooks at least half of the full story. The last thing I want is to come off as inauthentic. I have worked too hard to create my own path to let myself be influenced by superficiality.

As I embrace my new life, I still struggle and make mistakes, but I realized that my self-imposed standards were driving me crazy and preventing me from finding peace. I needed to simplify my life to avoid burnout, so I shifted my focus from proving myself to others to proving myself to me.

I replaced my complex 10-step morning routine with a simple 2-step one and learned to prioritize doing less. My time away from social media helped me see how it fueled my old tendencies. Now, I plan to use it only to share my writing.

In recent weeks, I’ve found freedom in letting go of what no longer serves me. I’m doing less, appreciating more, and disconnecting from societal pressures. The less I give a shit about others’ expectations, the better my life becomes. I take pride in my continuous growth and my ability to learn from my mistakes.

Last night I watched The Matrix and took the red pill. You can call me Neo; I’m ready to do the impossible!

YOU CAN TOO!

Red pill or Blue Pill?