I Don’t Feel Like Myself
CONVERSATION 02A conversation for when you’ve been getting through life, but somewhere along the way you’ve lost touch with you.
Pull up a chair.
You can be functioning perfectly well and still not feel like yourself. You can go to work, answer the messages, look after everyone, make plans and laugh at dinner — and still have this quiet feeling underneath it all:
I don’t really feel like me anymore.
Sometimes there’s an obvious reason.
A relationship ended.
You became a mother.
You moved somewhere new.
Your body changed.
Your work took over.
You lost someone.
You spent a long time surviving something.
But sometimes there isn’t one defining moment. Life simply got busy. And little by little, without really noticing, you moved further away from yourself.
So we're not going to ask you to find a new version of you.
Let's see if we can remember the one who's already there.
When did you last feel like you?
Don't overthink this.
Go back to a time when you remember feeling particularly yourself.
Not necessarily happier.Not thinner. Not younger. Not more successful. Just... you.
Where were you?
Who were you with?
What were you doing?
What was different about the way you were living?
Maybe you were more spontaneous. More playful. More creative. You saw your friends more. You travelled. You danced. You read. You wore things simply because you loved them. You had ideas. You laughed more easily. You spent time aloneYou had something that was yours.
Stay with that version of you for a moment.
Not because you need to go backwards. Because she might remind you of something.
What did you stop doing?
Sometimes we think we've lost ourselves when actually we've just stopped doing many of the things that made us feel like ourselves.
So think about this:
What used to be part of your life that quietly disappeared?
Not the things you think you should be doing. The things that made you feel alive.
Think about the little things too. Perhaps you always had music playing. You dressed up for no particular reason. You called your friends more. You made things, read things, went places, had ideas. Maybe there was simply more of your life that belonged to you.
And then life got serious. Responsibilities grew. Other people needed you. There was less time. And perhaps the things that seemed least essential were the first things to go.
But sometimes the things that look unnecessary from the outside are the very things that make us feel most alive inside.
Who have you had to become?
This question is a little different.
Because sometimes we don't lose ourselves.
We become very good at being who life requires us to be.
The responsible one. The strong one. The mother. The partner. The professional. The organised one. The sensible one. The one who copes. The one everyone can rely on.
There is nothing wrong with any of those versions of you. They may have carried you through entire chapters of your life.
But ask yourself:
Have I become so good at being who everybody needs me to be that I've forgotten who I am when nobody needs anything from me?
Take away your job for a moment. Take away your relationship status. Take away being somebody's mother, daughter, partner, colleague or friend. Take away everything you do for other people.
Who are you underneath all of that?
You don't need a clever answer. Just notice what comes up.
What do you actually like now?
Not five years ago. Not what looks good. Not what the people around you like.
You. Now.
What music do you actually want to listen to?
How do you want to dress?
Where do you want to spend your time?
Who makes you feel good after you've been around them?
What conversations interest you?
What bores you?
What do you want more of?
What have you completely outgrown?
What are you pretending to still enjoy simply because it belongs to an older version of your life?
Maybe feeling unlike yourself isn't always a sign that you need to get back to who you were.
Perhaps sometimes it means you've changed, but you haven't had the space to meet the person you've become yet.
There may be parts of you that have done their job.
Perhaps you used to need to be endlessly accommodating. Perhaps you needed everyone to like you. Perhaps you said yes when you wanted to say no. Perhaps you made yourself smaller to keep something working. Perhaps you became independent because you had to be. Perhaps you learnt to expect very little so you wouldn't be disappointed.
Those versions of you weren't mistakes. They were adaptations. They helped you somewhere along the way.
But you are allowed to ask:
Do I still need to be this person?
You don't owe every past version of yourself a permanent place in your future.
So what are you missing?
Not who.
What?
Freedom? Fun? Beauty? Quiet? Adventure? Attention? Creativity? Romance? Friendship? Purpose? Being looked after? Feeling desired? Having something to look forward to? Space that belongs entirely to you?
Sometimes I don't feel like myself really means:
There is a part of me that hasn't had enough room lately.
And that is something we can work with.
Give her a little room.
You don't need to quit your job. Book a flight. Change your hair. End your relationship. Move somewhere new. Or wake up tomorrow as an entirely different woman.
Start much smaller.
What is one thing you could do this week that would feel unmistakably like you?
Wear something you've been saving. Put the music on. Call the friend who brings something out of you. Sit somewhere beautiful by yourself. Buy the flowers. Write something. Go somewhere new. Do something slightly unnecessary. Say no to something you don't want to do. Say yes to something you do. Give yourself an evening that isn't useful to anybody.
Whatever came into your mind first, pay attention to it.
There you are.
Before you get up...
You haven't disappeared. You may have been busy. You may have been needed. You may have changed. You may have spent a long time becoming whatever the moment required of you.
But you are still here.
And perhaps you don't need to find yourself at all. Perhaps you just need to start making room for yourself again.
Not all at once.
Start with one small piece of your life that feels unmistakably yours.
The chair will still be here when you come back.
One thing to take with you
I haven't lost myself. I'm making room for myself again.