At 29, I wasn’t happy with myself.
Not in a dramatic, everything-is-falling-apart way — but in a quiet, heavy way that settled into my bones. I was trying to do everything I was supposed to be doing, and yet I felt disconnected from joy. From myself. From the parts of me that once felt light.
I wasn’t miserable… but I wasn’t happy either.
And that limbo is exhausting.
✨ Losing Yourself Slowly
I didn’t wake up one day and suddenly not recognize myself.
It happened slowly.
Between motherhood, marriage, grief, responsibility, and survival, the pieces of me that weren’t “useful” quietly faded into the background. Hobbies felt frivolous. Rest felt undeserved. Fun felt like something I’d return to later — when life slowed down.
Except life never really slows down.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself what I liked.
I stopped learning about animals.
I stopped noticing what made me smile.
I stopped making room for joy.
And at 29, I felt the weight of that loss.
✨ Turning 30 Didn’t Fix Me — It Softened Me
Turning 30 didn’t bring clarity or confidence overnight.
What it brought was permission.
Permission to stop trying to become someone impressive
and start reconnecting with who I already was.
I didn’t need a glow-up.
I needed gentleness.
✨ Coloring as Grounding
One of the first ways I found my way back to myself was… coloring.
Not because it’s productive.
Not because it leads anywhere.
But because it slows me down.
Coloring gives my hands something to do while my mind finally exhales. There’s no pressure to be good at it. No rules. No expectations. Just colors, shapes, and quiet.
It’s simple.
It’s grounding.
It’s enough.
And for someone who lived in survival mode for so long, that kind of calm feels revolutionary.
✨ Xbox as Real Rest
This one took longer to unlearn.
Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the idea that rest had to look a certain way to be “valid.” That if I wasn’t meditating, journaling, or doing something obviously healing, it didn’t count.
But here’s the truth:
Playing Xbox helps my nervous system relax.
It lets my brain focus on one thing instead of a hundred.
It gives me a break from being needed.
It’s fun — and fun matters.
Rest doesn’t have to look aesthetic to be real.
✨ Letting Joy Exist Without Guilt
This has been the hardest lesson.
I spent so long believing joy had to be earned — after healing, after growth, after I became better, calmer, more together.
But joy isn’t a reward.
It’s a requirement.
Small joys matter.
A coloring page finished just because.
A game played without rushing.
A moment of quiet.
A laugh that catches you off guard.
These things don’t fix your life — but they soften it.
And sometimes, softness is the medicine.
✨ Learning to Like Myself Again
Liking yourself isn’t about loving every part of who you are.
It’s about sitting with yourself without judgment.
Letting yourself exist without pressure.
Finding pleasure in small, ordinary moments.
At 30, I’m not chasing happiness.
I’m learning how to notice it.
And that feels like coming home.
✨ To Anyone Who Feels Disconnected
If you’re not unhappy, but not joyful either — you’re not alone.
If you’ve lost touch with what you enjoy — you’re not broken.
Joy doesn’t come after healing.
Joy is part of healing.
And you’re allowed to start small.
✨ Final Thought
I don’t need to reinvent myself to like myself.
I just need to let joy back in — quietly, gently, without guilt.
At 30, I’m learning that small pleasures are enough.
And maybe that’s what healing looks like.
🌙✨
