Mojo and the Mess

I don’t know when it happened exactly.

There wasn’t a single moment where I lost myself. It was quieter than that. Slower. Like erosion.

One day I just realized I didn’t recognize my own reactions anymore.

Things that used to feel easy feel heavy. Things that used to matter don’t always land the same. And the parts of me that once felt automatic now feel… conditional.

Illness doesn’t just change your body.

It rearranges your identity without asking.

I used to know myself by what I could do without thinking.

By how much energy I had.

By how my body behaved when I woke up in the morning.

By how far into the future I could imagine my life.

Now everything feels measured.

In appointments. In cycles. In side effects. In “we’ll see.”

People still talk to me like I’m the same person I was before this, and maybe that’s the hardest part. I don’t know how to explain that I’m not worse — just different in ways I haven’t fully mapped yet.

I don’t know which parts of me are permanent and which parts are survival mode.

I don’t know if the irritability is me or exhaustion.

I don’t know if the quiet is peace or grief.

I don’t know if I’ve grown or if I’ve just adapted.

And I’m tired of pretending I do.

There’s this unspoken expectation that you’re supposed to “find yourself again” after something like this. Like the old version of you is waiting patiently on the other side, untouched.

But I don’t think that’s how it works.

I don’t think you find yourself after illness.

I think you assemble yourself.

Piece by piece.

On good days and bad days.

With parts you recognize and parts you’re meeting for the first time.

Some days I miss who I was.

Not because she was better — but because she was familiar. She knew her rhythms. She trusted her body. She didn’t have to negotiate with herself just to get through the day.

Other days, I don’t miss her at all.

Because she couldn’t survive this. And I can.

Right now, I’m somewhere in between.

Not who I was.

Not sure who I’m becoming.

Just… here.

And maybe that’s enough for today.

I don’t have a lesson.

I don’t have a takeaway.

I don’t even have clarity.

I just know that losing your sense of self doesn’t mean you’re lost forever. Sometimes it just means you’re standing in the middle of something that hasn’t fully formed yet.

This is where I’m at.

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If you’re in your own in-between right now, I’m really glad you’re here.