The most uncomfortable question

On grieving who you were and not yet knowing who you are

There was an undercurrent of sadness today. Like a heaviness that sat just underneath the surface. It wasn’t consuming, and only noticeable if I paused.

But… it wasn’t just sadness. It was a feeling like my body and mind needed to move. Like the core of me was unsettled. Like I was waiting for something, expecting something, not quite letting myself rest.

It was a stark contrast to the warmth of the sunny summer day. My feet in the sand, the still water in front of me. A place where calm usually arrives when I need it most.

But today, voices whispered in the background,

“What have you done to deserve it? What have you proven? What have you shown?”

More than a whisper, though; they tightened my shoulders while my mind chased the next thing to fix. The next thing to move forward.

“Where’s the momentum? Where’s the success?”

Am I allowed to just be still today?

Am I allowed to just sit on a beach, by myself, for no other reason than because… I wanted to?

“You’re not celebrating anything. You could be using this time to check something off your to-do list. You probably should be doing that,” the voices said.

So is it enough that I’m just here?

I thought back to some of the times I reached big moments of external success. The big promotions. The big public talks that resulted in praise and support. The big project launched. I could exhale after those because people told me I could. They approved of the exhale. They said I deserved it.

Well, no kidding. We “deserve” breaks when we run ourselves into the ground over and over again.

Now, no one else is approving the exhale. Just… me.

I’ve launched some big, meaningful things and there’s no applause. No lineup of people wanting what I’ve put out in the world.

But I’ve accepted that the big markers of success aren’t here. It’s hard, but I’ve accepted it.

… Haven’t I?

Just yesterday I was vehemently frustrated with people in my life who know they’re exhausted but are still pushing. Still going to the job that drains them. Still pushing towards a life that sucks their soul. That’s killing them.

And here I was today, not giving myself the grace I so badly want them to give themselves.

Then, like someone pulling me forward —

Who am I?

That’s the question that arrived.

And then —

Who am I without trying to achieve?

Oh, there it was.

My body knew what that meant before my mind.

Grief started flowing. That’s what it was. Grief.

It didn’t mean achievement in the obvious way. I had let go of that over the last year. It was something more subtle: what’s been woven into my very being since I was a child.

It’s the belief that, even when I don’t think I’m doing anything, I’m still trying to be something.

Be a good mom. A good wife. A good friend. A good employee. A good sister. A good daughter. A good girl. Someone who has things handled.

Even the moments of rest are still often purposed into achieving something. So that I can be better. Be refreshed. Show up for someone. Get ahead of something.

Take a nap so I can feel more productive later. Have alone-time now so I can recharge for the event later. Mentally check-off my to-do list now so that I can feel more relaxed later.

When do I ever allow myself to just be? When do I let myself be okay about simply existing?

Who am I without that? Who am I when I’m not trying to be something? Who am I when I just…am?

Even after years of reconnecting to myself, shedding layer upon layer of who I thought I had to be, letting go of so much of the people-pleasing and living in a way that burnt me out, this question hit me harder than I could’ve anticipated.

I don’t know.

I still don’t know.

Beyond the labels. Mom. Wife. Highly sensitive person. Recovering people-pleaser.

Beyond what words can fully capture.

Who am I?

That question sat heavy with me for longer than I wanted. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t ignore the feeling of my legs and mind wanting to sprint away, just to escape the tension.

And yet, for once, I wasn’t trying to solve it. I wasn’t trying to find a solution. I was just letting myself be very aware of the discomfort of it all.

Then something came to me—slowly, like it needed space to arrive.

Not words at first. More like… feeling. Feeling that came from somewhere underneath the conditioning, somewhere more abstract.

Rest. Love. Dreamy.

The words didn’t even make sense. Not logically. I can’t be rest. I can’t be love.

And yet… I knew. I knew that’s who I am.

I didn’t need to explain it. I just needed to feel it.

The grief loosened its hold, ever so slightly. Because this wasn’t a moment of achievement. It wasn’t success as in the old definition. It was my soul moving through the feeling like a wave.

The grief will come again. I mean, of course it will.

The moment we think we’ve uncovered all the conditioned layers of us, we discover there’s another one underneath. Another belief, another identity we thought we had to hold onto, another version of ourselves to thank… and let go.

I used to think there would come a point where I’d finally know exactly who I was. That one day I’d arrive. To be honest, I thought I was already there. And I think that’s why my body hung so heavy today.

But maybe that’s not actually what this journey is asking of me.

Maybe it’s asking me to become more comfortable not knowing. To stop trying to define myself so tightly. To stop reaching for the next label that explains me.

Maybe “I don’t know” isn’t the wrong answer. Maybe it’s the truest one.

Because underneath all the labels, achievements, roles, and identities… maybe we’re less something to define and more something to experience.

And maybe that’s enough.

So if you’re here too—somewhere in the middle, grieving old versions of yourself, questioning who you are without all the things you’ve always been and done…

I hope you know you’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re not lost.

You’re just meeting another layer of yourself.

I have a feeling we’ll be doing that for the rest of our lives. And maybe that’s kind of beautiful.

Write soon,

P.S. If this question—who am I underneath all the roles, the achieving, the performing—is one you’re sitting with too, Return to You was built for exactly this kind of unfolding. Not to give you the answer, but to help you find your way back to the place where it lives. You can find it below.

About Kathleen

I’m a recovering people-pleaser who left my corporate career after burning out from a lifetime of overachieving.

Now I spend my days writing, supporting sensitive women, walking without headphones, and occasionally lying in the grass under a tree contemplating life.

If you’re trying to reconnect with yourself and live a life you actually want to wake up to, welcome. 🦋

© Reset with Kathleen 2026
Coaching and educational support only. Not therapy or medical care