Finding My Way Back to Myself

Today, I’m learning a little more about myself.

For the past few years, life has been full — in a good way, but also in a consuming way. I moved into a new season of life: living together with my husband, adjusting to shared routines, and stepping into a new corporate role that demanded a lot of energy and attention. Somewhere along the way, I realised I had been carried away by responsibilities, expectations, and constant adjustments.

Living together means learning rhythm — our rhythm. And that doesn’t happen overnight. There were moments of discomfort, moments where I felt I had to soften parts of myself, or pause things I loved, just to adapt.

But these past few weeks, something shifted.

For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’ve found my way back to my true self. I can do things I love again without guilt, without discomfort, without feeling like I’m taking space away from someone else. And most importantly, I’m doing this with the full support of my husband — something I’m deeply grateful for.

I remembered how much joy simple things bring me:
walking, hiking, reading books, listening to podcasts.
Quiet moments. Gentle growth.

A Book That Found Me at the Right Time

Today, I finally picked up Dare to Lead.

I received this book from my company for International Women’s Day 2025. It had been sitting on my bookshelf for months — untouched. Life was always “too busy.” But during the Christmas and New Year break, my husband and I chose to stay home instead of travelling. With nowhere to rush to, I suddenly had time… and a strange feeling of being stuck in my growth.

That’s when I remembered this book.

I pulled it out, not expecting much — after all, I thought I already knew myself pretty well. I’ve lived with myself for 37 years. I believed I was an independent woman, emotionally controlled, “strong.” I thought my introversion explained everything.

I was wrong.

The Myths I Didn’t Know I Believed

The book talks about six misguided myths of vulnerability, and as I read, I felt uncomfortably seen.

Myth #1: Vulnerability is weakness.
I believed this deeply. Why put my guard down when people might gossip, misunderstand, or hurt me? So I shielded myself — not just from bad feedback, but from all feedback.

And when we shield ourselves, we stop growing.

The book explains something that hit me hard: when we engage with all feedback — regardless of quality or intention — it can hurt so much that we eventually armor up. We pretend it doesn’t hurt, or worse, we disconnect completely from emotion.

When the armor becomes too thick, we stop feeling anything.
And that, the book says, is a kind of real death.

We pay for self-protection by sealing off our hearts — not just from pain, but from love.

I realised I had been doing exactly this. And I didn’t even acknowledge it.

Myth #2: You can opt out of vulnerability.
This one shocked me even more.

My pattern is simple:
when fear approaches,
when hard conversations appear,
I shut down.

I thought that meant I was “handling it.”
But the book calls this what it really is — an inability to rumble with vulnerability.

I also believed that wisdom, experience, and emotional intelligence could replace vulnerability. They don’t.
They never will.

That sentence alone made me pause for a long time.

I realised I had already ticked two out of six myths — and I wasn’t even halfway through the book.

“I Can Do It Alone” — Or Can I?

Then came Myth #3, the one that felt almost personal:

“I can go it alone.”

This belief has been part of me for as long as I can remember.
Interestingly, my husband was the first person who gently, patiently challenged it. From the early days of dating, he never tried to break my walls — he waited. He showed me, consistently, that doing life alone isn’t strength, and it isn’t healthy.

Even now, a part of me still believes that quote is 75% true. (I’m being honest 😅)

But the book referenced the work of John Cacioppo, and my mind was blown. He explains that maturity in adulthood — especially for social species like humans — is not about becoming autonomous and solitary.

It’s about becoming someone others can depend on.

When I read that, I froze.
Because that’s exactly what my husband has been telling me all along.

Cacioppo also explains that our brain and biology are shaped to support this — we are literally wired to connect, to rely on each other, to belong.

At the end of the day, we need to socialise.
We need connection.
We need each other.

And suddenly I wondered — have I been too closed-minded? Or just too protected for too long?

A Soft Realisation

This book didn’t just teach me about leadership.
It taught me about myself — the parts I misunderstood, the armor I wore too proudly, and the vulnerability I never learned to sit with.

I’m still learning.
Still unlearning.
Still softening.

And maybe that’s what growth really looks like — not becoming stronger walls, but braver hearts.

— The Soft Warrior Diaries 🌙