There are moments in life when something inside of you suddenly wakes up. Not necessarily because something dramatic happened, but because you finally become quiet enough to hear the thought that has probably been sitting somewhere inside you for a long time. Today, I had one of those moments. It was one of those “Oh my God…” moments where I suddenly realized that maybe I have been building someone else’s life instead of building my own. And honestly, that realization is both terrifying and strangely freeing.
For years, I have tried to listen to God. I have practiced paying attention to the little nudges, the feelings, the doors that opened and the ones that closed. I have tried to trust that there was a bigger plan even when I couldn't see what that plan was. I really believed I was following the path I was supposed to follow. But somewhere along the way, I think I became more focused on being a human being responding to everything and everyone around me than I was on actually stopping and asking God where I was supposed to go.
I let other people's needs, expectations, opinions, circumstances, wants, and plans influence the direction I was moving in. I flowed with everyone else because that felt easier than stopping and asking myself what I actually wanted.
And there is nothing inherently wrong with flowing. Sometimes surrender is exactly what we are supposed to do. Sometimes life takes us places we never expected to go, and there is beauty in trusting the process. But I think there is a difference between surrendering to God's direction and simply allowing the people and circumstances around us to determine the direction of our lives.
At some point, I stopped asking, “God, where are You leading me?” and started asking, “What does everyone else need from me?” Those two questions can create completely different lives.
Maybe you know what I mean. Maybe you have spent years taking care of everyone else. Maybe you became the person who always says, “It's okay,” “I can do that,” “Whatever works,” or “I'll figure it out.” Maybe you have made decisions based on what would keep everyone else comfortable. Maybe you have put your dreams on hold because there was always something or someone who needed you first. And then one day, you look around and realize that you don't actually know what you want anymore. You know what everyone else wants. You know what everyone expects. You know what needs to get done. But somewhere in the middle of all of that, you lost touch with yourself.
That realization can make you want to change everything overnight. Believe me, I understand that feeling. When you suddenly see your life differently, it can be tempting to think you need to tear everything down and start over. But I don't think we always need to do that. Sometimes the first step is simply to stop. Don't make permanent decisions from the middle of an emotional awakening. Sit with it. Pray about it. Journal about it. Take a walk. Get quiet. Ask yourself what is actually bothering you instead of immediately deciding that everything is wrong. Sometimes we don't need to burn our entire lives down. We simply need to start separating what is truly ours from what we have been carrying for other people.
One thing I think can help is sitting down with a piece of paper and asking yourself two very simple questions: “What is mine?” and “What is theirs?” What dreams are actually mine? What things make me feel alive? What do I think about when nobody else is asking anything of me? What would I pursue if I knew nobody would be disappointed? And then look at the other side. What expectations am I carrying that may not actually belong to me? What am I doing because I am afraid someone will be upset if I stop? What responsibilities have I accepted simply because I have always been the one who handles them? Whose approval am I seeking? Sometimes seeing those things written down can make something click inside of you.
I also think we need to learn how to listen for the nudges again. When we have spent years listening to everyone else, it can become difficult to recognize our own inner voice, let alone God's guidance. We expect guidance to arrive as some enormous sign, but sometimes it is much quieter than that. Sometimes it is the idea you keep thinking about. Sometimes it is the thing you feel pulled toward even though you don't know why. Sometimes it is the uncomfortable realization that something no longer fits. Sometimes it is the desire to write, create, travel, change careers, start something new, help someone, let something go, or simply spend more time alone. We don't always have to know where the nudge leads. Sometimes we just need to be willing to take the next step and see what happens.
And maybe one of the hardest things to accept is that choosing yourself doesn't automatically mean hurting everyone else. I think so many of us have been conditioned to believe that if we become happy, someone else must become unhappy. We think that if we set a boundary, we are selfish. If we pursue a dream, we are neglecting someone. If we change, we are abandoning the people we love. But what if there is another possibility? What if the goal isn't me or them? What if the goal can be me and them? I don't want to wake up one day and decide that everyone else has to lose so that I can finally live. I want to find a way to build a life where the people I love can be happy and I can be happy too. That may require difficult conversations. It may require boundaries. It may require compromise and changes that make people uncomfortable. But I don't think my unhappiness should have to be the price of everyone else's comfort.
I also think we need to give ourselves permission to grieve. When you realize you've been living a life that doesn't completely feel like your own, there can be a lot of grief attached to that. You may grieve the years you think you wasted. You may grieve opportunities you didn't take or dreams you put away. You may wonder what your life would look like if you had made different choices. But I am trying to remind myself that the past doesn't have to become a place where I live. I can look at those years and acknowledge what they taught me without deciding that they were all wasted. Maybe those experiences taught me what I value. Maybe they taught me what I don't want. Maybe they helped me become the person who is finally capable of recognizing what needs to change.
There is also something important about remembering that discomfort doesn't always mean we are making the wrong choice. When you have spent years making decisions based on keeping other people happy, choosing yourself can feel incredibly uncomfortable. You may feel guilty. You may question yourself. You may wonder if you're being selfish. But sometimes guilt is simply what happens when we do something unfamiliar. Sometimes discomfort is growing pains. So I am learning to ask myself a different question. Instead of asking, “Does this feel uncomfortable?” I want to ask, “Does this feel wrong, or does it simply feel new?” There is a huge difference between the two.
For me, I think part of this process is going back to God in a different way. Not with a list of things I want Him to make happen, but with an open heart and a willingness to listen. Maybe the prayer isn't, “God, please make my plan work.” Maybe the prayer is, “God, show me what is actually mine to build.” Show me what I have been ignoring. Show me which dreams are still meant for me and which ones I need to release. Show me what I am holding onto because I am afraid. Show me where I have confused other people's expectations with Your guidance. Show me how to make changes without destroying the people and relationships I love. And most importantly, help me recognize the difference between my own fear and Your direction.
I don't think we are ever finished becoming who we are. We talk so much about finding ourselves, but maybe sometimes we aren't supposed to find an old version of ourselves. Maybe we are supposed to meet the person we are becoming. We are allowed to change our minds. We are allowed to discover new dreams. We are allowed to realize that something that once made sense no longer does. We are allowed to say, “This isn't working for me anymore,” and then take the time to figure out what comes next.
And I think that is where I am right now. I don't have some beautiful ending where everything suddenly makes sense, and I know exactly what I'm supposed to do. I'm writing this from the middle of it. From that messy, uncomfortable place where you suddenly look around and think, “How did I get here?” But maybe there is something beautiful about being in the middle. Maybe this is where we get to pause and choose again.
I don't want to destroy the life I've built. I want to understand it. I want to look at it honestly and figure out which pieces are truly mine, which pieces belong to other people, which pieces still serve me, and which pieces need to change. I want the people I love to be happy, but I want to be happy too. I want to care for people without abandoning myself. I want to give without constantly emptying myself. I want to love without disappearing. I want to listen to the people around me without forgetting to listen to God.
Maybe that's what this awakening is really about. Maybe it isn't about walking away from everyone or suddenly changing everything. Maybe it is simply about becoming awake enough to participate in our own lives again. Instead of allowing life to happen around us, we begin making conscious choices about the life we are creating. We stop automatically saying yes. We stop assuming everyone else's needs have to come before our own. We begin paying attention to what makes our hearts feel alive. We start asking the questions we were too afraid to ask before.
And maybe the next step doesn't have to be a giant leap. Maybe it is one honest conversation. One boundary. One prayer. One journal entry. One dream we finally admit we still have. One tiny decision that belongs to us.
Then another.
And another.
Until, little by little, we realize that we aren't simply living the life that happened around us anymore.
We are building our own.
And this time, we are awake for it.
So tonight, that is the question I am sitting with:
“God, where do we go from here?”
I don't know the answer yet.
And some days, this question and unknowing feel painful ... because I feel like I am living someone else's life most days, and that ACHES.