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The moments when you stop recognizing yourself

  One day I woke up and felt different. I could not say why — it was just a feeling living somewhere inside me. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. It was me, a tired version, but still me. Yet something within me did not feel the same. Something had changed, and I could almost see how this other person was trying to get out and live my life. I told myself it was just a period and it would pass. I thought that once I took a break, I would return to myself again. But weeks later there was still no time to rest. And slowly, the other person began living my life. This person was nervous, anxious, and a bit mean. Unsatisfied, raising his voice, reacting with negativity. Impatient, not particularly kind, tolerating nothing and no one. Patience simply did not exist for him. I did not want him there, but I did not have the strength to fight him. The exhaustion was too big. Inside, I felt confused, disgusted, and ashamed of my actions. I felt lonely and misunders...
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The Self I Lost Access To

 

Woman seen from behind, touching her hair as she looks toward the horizon — quiet and searching.


I miss waking up and feeling like myself.
I realized I was missing me when I stopped recognizing myself.
My body became a regimen, my mind a list, and the day a survival.
And somewhere along the way, I lost access to myself.

There was a time when I woke up, brushed my teeth, and went for a morning workout — a gentle exercise for the body and mind.
It made me feel present, ready for the day.
Then I cooked breakfast for everyone — calm, no pressure.
Early mornings gave me a slow start to the day, a blessing.

Later, I did strength training, enjoying the energy and power of my body.
I cooked healthy meals, worked a lot, and stayed calm.
Even when something went wrong, I could handle it and stay focused.

I felt the love from me to me.
Proud to take care of my mind and body, doing something for myself that made me more kind, more present, more loving — and everyone around me benefited from that.

And then one day, I woke up — same mind, different body — and everything felt wrong.
I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror, and I didn’t like the person living under my skin.
It was me, but not really.

Somehow I was covered in a mist of fear, tasks, and stress.
A chaos of rushing and doing.
And through the door went everything — my patience, my presence, my love for myself.

It all became: “just this period to pass, and I’ll be back.”
But every day, it became harder to be myself, to enjoy myself, to be the version I could be.
I can’t point to one thing — work, motherhood, responsibilities — maybe it’s the perfect cocktail of obstacles that occupied my space and put me last on the list.

I’m trying to catch my breath.
Trying to get back on track.
Trying to feel like that me again.

I miss her.
I miss me.
I miss the strong feeling of being a powerful woman.
I miss the peace in my mind, and the way my body felt — the gratitude of being taken care of.

Now it feels less like living and more like moving on.
Just a device being charged with whatever is easiest, because it has to keep working, helping, being there — even when all it needs is a quiet, alone moment.

She was braver.
She knew her boundaries.
She had an unquenchable thirst for life.

With small everyday steps, without unnecessary pressure or unrealistic goals, I am slowly finding my way back to her.
Back to the love, the peace of mind, and the power in my body.

New lessons will be learned.
New love for myself and for the people close to me will bloom.
A new chapter will start — the cycle of life, where there is no perfection, just raw emotion and experience.

And if I lose myself again, I will start again.
Because I know how much I can give to others when I feel good and take care of myself.

 

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