Learning To Repair Without Losing.

Losing others? Easy. Losing myself? Not an option.

I’ve never been one to cling too tightly. I’ve always left before it got too hard. (Sometimes not soon enough, but we’re working through that.)

But I can’t lose any more of myself. Not the parts I’ve buried to keep the peace. Not the voice I quieted to be liked. Not the spark I dimmed to stay safe.

And don’t ask who I am, because I still don’t have an answer. That’s what I’m trying to repair. My sense of self. To finally answer the question my therapist asked six months ago: “Who are you?”

Yes, it’s really been that long. And no, I still can’t answer it.

I know what I do. I’m a mom. A housewife. A blogger. A student. But I’m more than my roles.

I know how I move through the world. I’m compassionate. Empathetic. Curious. Introverted. Inquisitive. But even those don’t quite capture me.

I’m learning that identity isn’t a checklist. It’s a reclamation. A slow stitching together of the parts I thought I had to give away.

So no, I don’t have a polished answer. But I do have a promise. I won’t lose myself again. Not for love. Not for approval. Not for ease.

I’m learning to repair without losing. And that, for now, is enough.