Losing Myself, Finding Strength: A Journey in Three Chapters

Life has a way of teaching us through moments when we feel lost. I’ve lost myself in different ways — as a child, as a young adult, and even as a wife. But each time, I found something precious that shaped me into who I am today.

The Day Fear Taught Me Love

It was at an exhibition, alive with colors, lights, and laughter. My family and I were so excited, and in my childish eagerness, I walked ahead, leading the way. But when I turned around, I realized I was suddenly alone.

For a five-year-old, that moment was terrifying. My heart raced, but I told myself: Maybe they’re just behind. Any second now, they’ll be here.

I waited. One minute. Two minutes. Each second felt heavier than the last. I searched frantically — a bookstall, a craft shop, a handloom store — but no familiar faces appeared. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the crowd.

In that fear, something inside me steadied. I noticed a policeman nearby and told him I had lost my parents and sisters. But when nothing happened, I trusted my own instinct: If my parents are searching everywhere, they’ll end up at the exit. So I decided to walk there on my own.

And then, suddenly, there they were — my family, standing near the entrance, scanning every face with restless eyes. My mother was anxious, scolding my father for letting go of my hand. My father was calm, reassuring her they would find me. And when I appeared, I saw in their eyes a love I’ll never forget.

That moment stayed with me. It was the first time I truly understood both the strength of their love and the quiet responsibility of taking care of myself.

When Freedom Made Me Forget

When I went to college for my engineering degree, it was the first time I had ever been away from home and family. Suddenly, I was surrounded by new people, new teachers to impress, new friends to make, and endless hours to dive into the subject I loved — Engineering.

I was completely absorbed in this new world. I called my parents and sisters less and less during my first semester. Life on campus was buzzing with energy — days filled with experiments in the labs, evenings spent sharing stories with hostel friends, weekends packed with movies, music, or trekking nearby hills. Without realizing it, I was drifting away from my family.

When the semester ended and I went home for vacation, I felt a quiet distance. My sisters were slightly angry, my parents quietly frustrated. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking about college — the freedom, the fun, the adventures. I even bragged about how liberating it all felt. My sisters stayed silent through most of it, but just before I left again, my father leaned close and whispered:

"Keep calling. Your mother and sisters missed you the whole semester."

That one line hit me harder than anything else. How had I not noticed? How could I have missed the weight of their silence? In that moment, I understood something I hadn’t before: freedom is beautiful, but it comes with responsibility.

From then on, I promised myself to stay more connected, no matter how busy life at college became. Because even when we grow, even when we explore new worlds, the bonds of family need care — and love must always find its way back home.

The Evening I Chose Myself Again

When I met my husband, I had very little experience with relationships outside of my family. I was deeply in love, swept away by life. Somewhere in that journey, I became less careful about myself — my career, my future, and even my own growth.

My days were filled with endless work. If I wasn’t at my job, I was buried in house chores, working harder than ever before. I didn’t notice how much it was draining me. Slowly, I slipped into people-pleasing mode — always worrying about others, always putting their needs before mine.

In that process, I began to compromise on my career. I said no to opportunities for the wrong reasons, more concerned about how others at home might judge me if I didn’t serve them. Eventually, my career suffered so much that I had to leave my job.

I don’t blame anyone for this — it was me who lost control. I was living for everyone else’s approval and forgetting who I was.

Then one evening, I finally said to myself: Enough. Something shifted. I realized I had the power to change my story. I could reclaim my voice, rebuild my career, nurture my passions, and write my own path forward.

That was the moment I chose not just to live for others, but to live fully for myself too. And this time, I know — I am stronger, wiser, and ready to grow into the person I was always meant to be.

Looking back, I have lost myself in fear, in freedom, and in love. Each time, I thought I was broken, but each time I found something greater waiting for me — courage, responsibility, and strength.

Perhaps that’s what life really is: a cycle of losing and finding, until we finally learn who we truly are.