Finding Myself by Losing Who I Thought I Was

“Finding yourself requires losing who you once thought yourself to be.”

(Brianna Wiest, The Pivot Year)

I read that line recently, and it caused me to pause. Not because it sounded beautiful, but because it felt true deep in my body. It felt like a quiet summary of everything I’ve lived through over the last few months.

When I first began the process of selling my condo, I believed I knew where my life was going. At the time, the plan was simple: sell, move to British Columbia with my partner, and build a home on land we had purchased together. It felt like a new chapter was beginning.

That was 2024, and then my condo flooded.

What should have been a relatively quick repair turned into almost six months of disruption. During that time, plans shifted. We realized that building a home would cost far more than we had anticipated. So we pivoted. I would go to Mexico for six months, Airbnb my condo in Toronto, and my partner would stay behind to work, pay down student debt, and save. We told ourselves this was temporary. Practical. Sensible.

But life had other plans.

A lot happened during those six months. My partner and I broke up. When I returned to Toronto, we found our way back to each other and decided to try again. I listed my condo, nearly a year after I had originally intended to, believing this time it would finally sell.

We tried living together.

And in that attempt, clarity arrived.

What became undeniable was that no matter how much love or effort existed, we were not compatible in the ways that mattered most.
I felt unseen.
Unheard.
Unloved in the way I needed.
I didn’t feel special.
And no amount of forcing, compromising, or hoping could change that truth.

I had put my condo on the market on July 9th, 2025.
It didn’t sell.
I reduced the price in late September.
If you’ve ever sold a home, especially while working from home and caring for a pet, you know how exhausting and destabilizing constant showings can be. By the end of November, my relationship had ended. We decided to sell the land in BC. I took my condo off the market and chose to stay.

I was tired.

Tired of living out of a suitcase.
Tired of being displaced.
Tired of forcing decisions that didn’t feel right.
Tired of paying nearly $4,000 a month to live in a space that no longer matched the life I wanted.

I knew I was done with the city, but I also knew there was a reason my condo hadn’t sold. Something wasn’t complete yet.

So I made a new decision. I would Airbnb my place and return to Mexico for six months, not to run away, but to heal, to breathe, and to create space to feel into what was next.

And then, on December 8th, everything shifted.

I received a text that a viewing was scheduled for December 9th. My realtor asked if I wanted to cancel it, since my listing was technically coming off the market the next day anyway. And I remember the moment clearly, somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice said, keep it.

So I did.

The buyers loved my condo. They asked to see it again the next day. And three days later, after nearly a year of preparation, waiting, uncertainty, and surrender, I received an offer. By December 30th, the sale was firm.

Looking back now, I can see it so clearly.

If everything had gone “according to plan” in 2024, I would likely be living in a tiny home on remote land in BC, in a relationship that slowly eroded my sense of self. I wouldn’t have been ready to release my space, my belongings, or that chapter of my life with grace.
I needed time.
I needed distance.
I needed lived experience (not theory) to know what was no longer aligned.

I can also see now that ending that relationship was the first true step in choosing myself, without hesitation or backup plans. It was a crossing point. The moment I stopped orienting my decisions around anyone else, the energy began to shift. I don’t believe my condo could have sold while I was still in that relationship, because selling it then would not have been in alignment with my path. In its own way, the delay was protecting me, and it wasn’t until I chose myself fully that things were finally able to move.

That condo held me through grief, healing, growth, and immense change. It was home. And after spending time away from it, after Airbnb-ing it and evolving beyond the version of myself who first lived there, I was finally able to let it go with ease.

What I know now is this: you are always guided and supported, even when it doesn’t feel that way.

I’ve grown more in the last 60 days than I had in a long time. When I chose myself (truly chose myself) everything shifted.
The resistance dissolved.
The timing aligned.
Flow returned.

When things feel heavy, forced, or endlessly blocked, it’s often a sign we’re pushing against truth. When things begin to move with ease, clarity, and unexpected support, it’s a sign we’re back in alignment.

So here I am.

I’ve sold most of my belongings.
I’m going to Mexico for six months.
And I don’t know what comes next.

And for the first time, that feels okay.

I don’t need the whole map. I only need the next step, and the trust that I am guided, protected, and supported as I take it.

I am no longer trying to become who I thought I should be.

I am allowing myself to become who I truly am.

And that, I’m learning, is the real beginning.

Choosing alignment doesn’t mean fear disappears. Doubt and ego will surface when change is real. But I’m learning that growth asks us to keep moving anyway, to trust what we know in our bodies, even when the mind still has questions.

I’m sending you so much love and light as you move through this journey called life.

Natalie