What if you're not lost, just between versions of yourself?

The first time I really felt myself slipping away was on maternity leave. Not in the first week or the first month, but later, when I noticed I'd been wearing the same things for ages. Comfortable, practical, stuff I didn't mind ruining. Me, a woman who spent five years as a stylist and could pull together a look in half an hour that made a client stand up straighter, had turned into a gray blur. Honestly, those are the exact words I used about myself back then. I felt shaky, the days ran together, and the question "what do I want?" seemed like a luxury meant for someone else.

Why "find yourself" is the wrong question

That phrase suggests there's one real you buried somewhere, already finished, with the right hair color and the right career. All that's left is to dig her up.

When I look back, I see several women. A stylist who lived for outfits, fabrics and fittings. A digital product designer who stayed up late over mockups after the move. A woman who threw herself into numerology after her dad died, because she needed some way to explain to herself how life works. And a mom on maternity leave who didn't recognize herself in the mirror for two years.

Each of them was real. Just each in her own time. I spent a long time wondering what holds them all together, and I think I finally get it. Curiosity. There's a forever-kid in me who needs to figure things out, try them, make something with her hands. The jobs changed, the countries changed, and she never left. Maybe "yourself" isn't something you find in a role, but in whatever carries you from one role to the next.

Signs you're between versions

For me, the first signal was my hair. I'm naturally a dirty blonde. Before I emigrated I went full blonde, and I loved how that felt: light, easy, a whole vibe where I felt like me. During pregnancy and for two years after, I wore my natural color. Not because I decided to, but because I had zero room for it. Only now am I slowly going back to light. It's funny, but that's where the feeling started that I'm somewhere close to myself again.

The other signs are easy to spot once you know where to look. Your clothes still fit, but the "this is so me" feeling is gone. Old plans sound like someone else wrote them. You're bored where your eyes used to light up, and curious about things you never even glanced at before. That happened to me with philosophy: I'm a color-and-shape person, and suddenly I'm reading about how people think about life and I can't put it down.

And then there's "So what do you do?" Officially I'm on maternity leave right now, and that might be the hardest question of all for me. The honest answer doesn't fit in one word, and the short one makes it sound like I've been put on pause.

What to do while you're in between

Don't rush to conclusions. In the middle you don't have to make a big decision. Noticing matters more. What are you drawn to? What do you look away from? What do you want to wear when no one's watching?

And try small things. For example, I tried building a women's community. We met up, and it gave me so much. Then I stopped, because in-person meetups often just don't work with my life right now. The old me would have filed that under failures. Now I see it differently: I found out it really matters to me, and I know I'll come back when I can. A small experiment doesn't have to become your life's work. Its job is to point you in a direction.

Same with your hair, one piece in your closet, one class, one book that supposedly "isn't for you." You don't have to change everything over a weekend. One step is enough, as long as things get a little clearer after it.