How I Lost My True Self (and found the way back to it)

My journey in losing myself and finding the way back to my true identity

How My Life Became Someone Else’s

“The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all.”

Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death

When I was growing up, I let myself be too easily influenced at times by the expectations placed on me—by my family and by society at large. I was raised with the idea that I could become anything I wanted if I put my mind to it, and while that may itself be a positive thing—or even a privilege—I was lulled by the promises set before me and set to accomplish the goals that seemed to bring recognition to those who achieved them.

Only years later, at the ripe age of twenty-five, did I realize I had been slowly but surely walking away from myself. It wasn't a sudden revelation; there was no big “aha” moment. But in retrospect I could see that something had gone astray, as if the person I was becoming and my intimate sense of self had taken different paths, and it had become almost impossible to reconcile them. At the time I had just started working in consulting after completing a Master’s Degree in Quantitative Finance, and I noticed that the part of me I had secretly kept alive in the small pockets of free time during university was about to run out of air.

Stubborn as I am, I kept writing at night and working during the day, despite being constantly tired and burned out from long hours and the stomach-churning stress of new responsibilities. I kept at it for months until one night, sitting before my computer in a silent room, the cursor kept blinking on a blank page. Words wouldn’t come, and with my eyes so strained I could barely keep them open, I felt a deep anxiety—as if something was about to crumble before my very eyes, as if, for the first time, something had gone terribly wrong with my life.

After that night I wrote sparingly; my routine broke down and I found myself slowly giving up writing completely, unable to find any satisfaction in it. I relinquished my inner identity and went through the motions day after day. Relief came only from self-pleasuring distractions—drinking, scrolling through social media, anything that kept me away from my own thoughts. I couldn't bear the discomfort, couldn't face the hole that was growing inside me each day and was becoming increasingly difficult to fill.

In the end the disconnection became so evident that even the best distractions failed, and I found myself forced to find a way to remove the crushing boulder on my chest that accompanied me from the moment I woke until my last instant of awareness before falling asleep.

The Illusion Of Sacrifice

“When I betray myself, I begin to see the world in a way that justifies my betrayal.”

Terry Warner

Growing up, I was taught to separate duty from pleasure. I had to endure a certain amount of duty—usually the hours spent in school or studying after school—in order to earn the right to enjoy a certain amount of pleasure, which was always limited to whatever time remained after fulfilling my obligations.

From early childhood, I felt a deep sense of injustice in this arrangement, but I accepted it as something necessary, something I had to obey in order not to fall behind, fearing that If I failed to comply, even the few pleasures I was saving myself for would be taken away as punishment. By the time I reached adolescence, I knew this was a senseless way to organize life. Yet the habits were ingrained, and so I kept waiting for the day when I could finally gain independence, when I could do the things I truly wanted without having to postpone myself. But that day, as most of you can imagine, never came.

The portion of my life devoted to duty kept growing as I aged, while the space left for myself shrunk smaller and smaller with each passing year. Still, I held on to the illusion. I had invested too much in my false self to imagine abandoning it. Too many years on sweating on books to abandon the whole project on a whim. So while that part of me swelled, the other part—my real self—was forced to shrink.

But this didn’t come without consequences. I began to resent myself for the choices I had made. I found myself unable to commit to anything. Years of forcing myself into shape backfired, and I discovered that I could no longer force myself to do anything at all. My will felt dead, as if the only thing left was to wait for it to return of its own accord. Pushing harder wouldn’t have worked anymore.

I realized I could no longer express myself truthfully. The false self had seeped into my relationships too, until the person others described bore little resemblance to the person I felt myself to be.

“No punishment anyone might inflict on them could possibly be worse than the punishment they inflict on themselves by conspiring in their own diminishment.”

Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

I became selfish. I couldn’t let anyone take the little time I had carved out for myself—the only part of the day when I could still express my authentic self. I couldn’t even begin to think of helping others; every request that came my way, despite my best efforts, was met with resentment or avoidance.

I wanted to be kinder. I wanted to be more present for the people close to me—more loving toward my family, my girlfriend, my friends. But in truth, those intentions only grazed the surface of my mind. They never sank in deeply enough, and were swallowed instead by the negativity that, like quicksand, had taken hold of my life.

I was harboring a profound resentment for what I had done to myself, though I couldn’t admit it for a long time. It is always easier to shift the blame outward. But in the end I had to realize that until you decide to confront yourself, no real change is possible.

You Can Only Give What Is Truly Yours

“Self-care is never a selfish act—it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others.”

Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

The problem wasn't that I was giving too much to others: in fact, apart from the time I spent at work, I was barely offering anything to people. The issue was that I was giving out something I didn't have, and for that reason it was always scarce no matter how hard I tried to create more of it.

True giving can only happen when the gift you offer others is integral to your own nature. In other words, you can truly give only something you possess—something so essential to you so that offering to others doesn't diminish its intensity.

The first time I heard that concept, while it rang true in principle, I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I never believed I could give in that way. To be truthful, I felt my true self could never give anything at all—that there was no use in me, no potential for service that could better the lives of the people around me. I was convinced that whatever was valuable in me resided in the false self, the one responsible for carrying out duties and thus the only part that could be of service to others. After all, there had to be a reason that showing the other part was never encouraged.

The problem with this view is that you slip into a vicious cycle. You give nothing from the true self, you receive no feedback that might build conviction, and so you remain unable to give from what is real.

I found myself precisely in that situation when, having realized that the life I was leading could no longer continue, I decided to take the first steps toward a new way of living—a way that set the false self aside and allowed the real self to emerge, allowing it to reveal its truth to the world.

The First Step Towards Yourself

“If you can get talked out of something, you deserve it.”

Alan Watts

The journey is hard, and immense doubt accompanies it. Even after months of work discovering my values, examining my attitudes, and experimenting with them extensively, I still find myself uncertain. I still procrastinate on the things that align with my inner core.

Old habits die hard, and even after recognizing the false self for what it is, there remains a lot of “dead wood” to burn before the inner self can fully shine in the world. Discovering your purpose is therefore only the beginning—it is the essential first step that precedes the actualization of your vision and the living of the life you truly desire.

You will feel resistance. Your mind will turn against you, unsettled by the unfamiliarity of this new path. It signals the risks inherent in straying from the beaten track, in carving a route uniquely your own. In these moments, you must learn to face objections, cultivate the strength of your resolve, and weigh every thought occupying your mind against your real values—allowing only those that propel you toward your ultimate goal to guide you.

This is the time to discard the opinions of others, no matter how well-meaning. Your life is yours alone, and only you truly know what is best for yourself. Like your thoughts, external advice must be measured against your own values and intuition, which serve as the only reliable compass for making choices that will bring lasting happiness—the choices congruent with your true self.

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”

Joseph Campbell

You must be willing to step into the unknown and face your fears. That is where everything you are seeking truly lies. It is in confronting the darkness, entering the caves you're afraid of, that you discover the treasures that have been, all along, waiting for you.