Come home to yourself.

[Featuring entries from my personal journal: fragments of truth, moments of self-reflection]

I found myself once again caught in a jaundiced spiral—a swirling funnel of depression into which I poured endless hours of scrolling. This led to restless rest and a suffocating sense of false productivity, which I had consistently recognized as avoidance. We tend to avoid our problems, but what may be more concerning is the way in which we avoid ourselves. In doing so, we cut off any chance of navigating out of that spiral when continuously heaved into it. At times, these spirals feel as if they stretch on forever, an unbroken loop that drags us further away from ourselves.

Finding Hope in Despair

Bad things happen, but I am reminded that they are all lessons happening for me rather than against me”

– An entry from my personal journal May 2, 2024.

Yet, I took solace in one definitive truth: every downward spiral of despair eventually reaches its conclusion. I discovered profound truths about who I am and found new paths that led me back to myself before I stumbled and fell. At that time, I was 23, jobless, broke, and without prospects (not to mention my unhealthy attachment to Pride and Prejudice). I lived with my parents, who were going through a divorce, and my three younger siblings, all under 13.

You can imagine what that environment was like—more than the occasional squabble, the tornado of energy from two eight-year-old twins, and the heavy silence that signaled my little sister was acutely aware of it all. It’s funny how, in such circumstances, life starts to feel less about you and more about everything outside yourself. That’s what avoidance does.

In my struggle, I became a master of distraction, redirecting my focus anywhere but inward. I was overwhelmed by my parents’ tensions, my siblings’ chaos, and our home’s oscillating noise and silence. This is how you know you’re in trouble: when you superglue your senses to the outside world, you disconnect from yourself.

Reimagining Family Connections

“While I am enjoying my solitude and spending time with my family, I crave connections that can seemingly only be made with those who are not forced to be around you.”

As much as they drive me insane, my family means everything to me. Still, my patterns were shaped in part by my interactions with them from the day I was born. I spent 18 years with the same people who thought they knew me—but they were mistaken. I am not the image they have of me; I am what I choose to be. I have evolved, and I am still changing.

Claiming my own identity wasn’t about rejecting my family but about reimagining our connection. It required having difficult conversations, setting boundaries, and showing them the person I was becoming, not just the child they remembered. It also meant surrounding myself with new people—those who could understand me without preconceived notions, individuals who shared characteristics with the person I was and was becoming.

Finding Myself in Nature

“I value my time outside. I am in near constant need of the sun’s warmth and the sounds of the birds.”

In a dark, dank room with no real life or inspiration, I would rather be nowhere than outside and in the face of the sun. It is such warmth and brightness, how it lights the universe, that makes me feel connected to myself in ways I cannot find indoors.

Connection to outer space is not a luxury but a necessity. This is my place to reset, where all the internal noise quiets and I hear the quieter, more essential parts of me. The outdoors doesn’t judge or confine; it simply allows—a radical act of acceptance that I am still learning to offer myself.

Cooking as Self-Care

“I miss cooking with fresh ingredients.”

Cooking is my favorite type of alchemy. It is a daily practice that engages all of my senses and pulls me out of my head and into the present, lest I want a burn to do it for me. It gives me another way to care for myself, be engaged in my health, and give me a daily sense of accomplishment that helps me keep moving forward. I have complete control over what I put inside me, and I gain gratification from the taste and filling satisfaction of a fresh and healthy meal.

This is how I anchor myself, not through grand gestures but through these small, intentional acts of creation. Each meal is a small rebellion against my own avoidance.

Breaking Free from Others’ Judgments

“I still put too much value on others’ opinions.”

You’ve heard it time and time again: the only opinion that matters is your own. You may believe that the opinion you hold of yourself is truly your own, but peer deeper. You’ll find that much of what you think of yourself is what you believe others see in you.

Here’s the brutal reality: we are walking composites of other people’s judgments. Every critical comment, every raised eyebrow, and every moment of perceived disappointment becomes a brick in the wall we build around our true selves. We learn to contort, shape-shift, and become whatever version of ourselves feels least likely to invite criticism. But in this constant performance, we lose something fundamental—the quiet, objective truth of who we actually are.

The Courage to Leave

“While I am grateful for this place, I cannot stay.”

At the precipice of my depression, I was so lucky to have a reliable place to call home. Privileged even. However, I could not heal in a place that broke me. Standing on the edge of change, I realized that leaving is not an abandonment, but a necessary act of self-preservation. Our experiences shape who we are; being stuck in situations that repeatedly remind us of unwanted experiences can hinder personal growth. Now, I pursue grander ventures. I seek to do, not want, and to allow myself to desire a space outside of what confines me, regardless of its place in my comfort zone.

The Ongoing Journey of Self-Discovery

The spirals of avoidance that once consumed me are slowly unraveling, replaced by intentional moments of presence and self-connection. My journey is not about perfection but progression— choosing myself repeatedly, even when it feels uncomfortable. Especially when it feels uncomfortable.