Remembering Who You Are: Reconnecting When You Feel Disconnected from Yourself

There are days - maybe even seasons - when you look in the mirror and barely recognise the person staring back. Not because anything drastic has changed on the outside, but because something within you feels... far away.

You might feel like you’re going through the motions, showing up, doing what’s needed to just get by - but somewhere along the way, you've lost touch with the quiet truth of who you are.
The spark.
The softness.
The voice that once knew what felt right.

If this speaks to you, I want to say this gently and clearly: nothing is wrong with you. Disconnection from your sense of self is not a failure. It's a very human response to overwhelm, grief, trauma, and the sheer noise of the world. It’s a kind of soul-fatigue, a natural response to unnatural pressures that are ever present in modern living.

The Myth of “Just Get Back to Being You”

We live in a culture that tells us we should always know who we are. That confidence is a product we can buy, that healing is linear, and that if we just try hard enough, we can “get back” to some ideal version of ourselves.

But when you’re walking through burnout, anxiety, or grief, these messages can feel like salt in an open wound.

You don’t need to perform wholeness. You don’t need to “get back” to anything. Because your true self, your essence, hasn’t left. It’s simply resting. Hidden, maybe. Tucked safely away like seeds under winter soil.

Still here.

Still alive.

What if, instead of rushing to reclaim a version of you that feels “normal,” you honoured this time as a sacred part of your unfolding? What if disconnection isn’t a detour but a doorway?

A Soulful Way Back: Gentle Practices for Reconnection

You don’t need to overhaul your life to feel like yourself again. Often, the most healing acts are quiet and small. Think of these not as steps on a ladder, but as invitations to sit beside your soul and listen for its whisper.

1. Return to the body, slowly.
Start with your breath.
Not deep breathing or perfect posture, just notice it as it is right now. No special breathing pattern, or counts. Is it shallow? Tight? Gentle? Are you holding it in? Breathe like you're safe. Breathe like you belong. Let your breath be a bridge back home.

2. Let nature reflect your rhythm.
Go outside, even for five minutes in your garden or on your doorstep. Sit and just notice, without judgement. Maybe under a tree or watch clouds shapeshift across the sky. Nature doesn't rush her becoming. Trees don't judge bare branches in winter. Let yourself be mirrored by her patience, her cyclical wisdom.

If it feels right, take a small walk and ask, What part of nature today feels like me? You might be drawn to something weathered, wild, budding, or still. Trust that pull.

3. Create without needing it to mean something.
Paint. Scribble. Snap a photo. Arrange sea glass into a pattern. Creativity can bypass the logical mind and speak straight to the soul. You don’t need a masterpiece, you just need a moment of expression that says, I’m still here.

Let your hands move in ways that feel like remembering. Let them be free - and playful. Curious.

A Gentle Prompt for Reflection

If you're someone who likes journaling, you might explore this:

“If I could speak to the part of me that feels lost, what would I say?
And if that part could speak back, what might it whisper in return?”

Write like no one will read it. Let the words come as they are. You’re not trying to fix anything. You’re just meeting yourself where you are.

You Are Not Broken - You Are Becoming

Dear one, if you're feeling disconnected from who you are, know this: you are not lost. You are in a season. One that asks for gentleness, not urgency.

Like the moon, you don’t always have to be full to be whole. Like the tide, you can ebb and still belong to the ocean.

You are still you, even in the quiet, even in the ache. Your softness is not a weakness, but a strength the world has forgotten how to honour.

You are not alone in this. Others have walked through this fog and found their way, not by pushing, but by pausing. By listening. By rooting back into the soil of what matters.

So today, may you give yourself permission to not have it all figured out.

To not rush the return.

To simply sit with yourself, in kindness.

Because even now, even here, you are enough. And you are already on your way home.