For as long as I can remember, I have been someone to everyone else.

I became a wife while I was still so young that I never really figured out who I was on my own. Then I became a mom while I was still a teenager. Every decision I made after that revolved around taking care of someone else. I don’t blame anyone for that. Those were the choices I made, and I would make them again because my kids are the greatest blessing in my life.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself a simple question.

Who am I?

The truth is… I’m not sure I have ever really believed in myself.

I didn’t lose myself overnight. There wasn’t one defining moment where I woke up and realized I was gone. It happened so gradually that I never noticed. Every time I put someone else’s needs ahead of my own, every time I said yes when I wanted to say no, every time I convinced myself that everyone else mattered more than I did, I gave away another little piece of myself.

Six months ago, if you had asked me to describe myself, my answers would have been heartbreaking.

Lonely.

Insecure.

Unlovable.

Undesirable.

Looking back now, I realize those weren’t descriptions of who I was.

They were descriptions of how I felt.

Those are two very different things.

Losing my job forced me to take a hard look at my life. I thought updating my resume would be the hardest part. It wasn’t. I had always kept it updated just in case the perfect opportunity came along.

Packing up my office… that was the hard part.

That was the moment I felt like I had lost everything.

Not because of the title.

Not because of the paycheck.

Because somewhere along the way, my job had quietly become my identity after my kids became adults.

What surprised me wasn’t reading everything I had accomplished.

It was realizing how many lives I had touched.

I started at that company in a small part-time position and left as an Operations Manager. I always thought I was just doing my job. Staying late. Taking on more responsibility. Going the extra mile for students. Supporting my team however I could.

But when everything ended, my team reminded me that what mattered most wasn’t what I had accomplished.

It was how I made people feel.

The phone calls.

The messages.

The people checking on me long after my title disappeared.

That’s when I realized leadership isn’t something you are given.

It’s something people remember.

As I worked through all of this, I also realized how much of my identity was wrapped up in titles.

Wife.

Mom.

Manager.

The person everyone depended on.

For more than twenty years, those titles became who I thought I was.

But titles describe what we do.

They don’t describe who we are.

This year has been filled with things the old version of me never would have done.

I take myself to dinner.

I bought one concert ticket instead of waiting for someone to go with me.

I’ve joined a book club.

I’ve started saying yes to experiences instead of waiting for permission.

The more time I spend alone, the more I realize I spent years trying to fit myself into someone else’s version of who I should be.

The biggest surprise?

I actually enjoy my own company.

There was one moment recently that caught me completely off guard.

I realized I sleep better alone than I do with someone next to me.

That realization wasn’t about sleeping.

It was about peace.

For most of my life, I waited for someone else to tell me I was enough.

Pretty enough.

Strong enough.

Important enough.

Lovable enough.

I have an incredible best friend who has reminded me of those things for years.

She’s also spent years telling me something that never really made sense until now.

“You’re not a tree.”

At first I laughed every time she said it.

But what she meant was simple.

I’m not stuck.

I can move.

I can change.

I can choose a different life.

For years I heard those words.

I just didn’t believe them.

I think I’m finally starting to.

I still have insecurities.

I still have lonely days.

Healing isn’t a straight line.

But now I also know something I didn’t know six months ago.

I deserve to be loved.

I deserve a true partner.

I deserve to be seen.

And maybe most importantly…

I deserve to see myself.

One of my favorite parts of the day has become something I never expected.

Looking in the mirror.

Not because I have everything figured out.

Not because I know exactly who I am.

But because I can finally smile at the woman looking back.

She’s still a work in progress.

So am I.

If I could go back six months, I would only say one thing.

Believe your best friend when she tells you that you’re not a tree.

You don’t have to stay where you’re unhappy simply because you’ve been there a long time.

You are allowed to grow.

You are allowed to change.

You are allowed to choose yourself.

I still don’t know exactly who I am.

But every dinner for one…

Every concert…

Every interview…

Every workout…

Every new friendship…

Every morning I choose myself…

I’m getting a little closer.

For more than twenty years, I made sure everyone else was okay.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot…

I was someone too.

And I don’t ever want to forget that again.