the myth of finding yourself - Espresso & Essays

for most of my life, i believed there would be a moment when the chaos would settle and i would finally “arrive.” that somewhere in the hazy distance, there was a version of myself that was fully formed, untouchable in her certainty, someone i could grow into and stay in forever. i imagined this moment like walking through a final doorway, a place where everything clicked into place and i would know, without hesitation, this is who i am. and so i chased it. i thought every choice, every risk, every heartbreak was just another step toward finding that fixed point, the destination where the restless searching would stop. i was convinced that once i found her, the real me, i’d feel anchored. whole. complete. but the older i get, the more i realise that door might not exist at all. and if it does, it’s a moving one, always shifting just out of reach. people talk about “finding yourself” like you’re a lost set of keys, something fixed, misplaced, waiting to be retrieved. but what if there’s

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• KayC Nguyen