How Did I End Up Living Someone Else’s Dream?
The hidden truth behind my “success” and the 3 questions that could change your life.
I want to talk about identity. Specifically, what happens when you realize the life you've built doesn't actually belong to you.
For most of my life, I've done everything "right." I moved out at 18. Paid my way through college, leaving me debt-free. Built a career. Secured job promotions. Created a business.
I checked all the boxes I was told would equal success and security.
I was good at it. Really good at it. I became known for design and marketing that converts. I built containers for other people's visions. I helped them find their voice, their aesthetic, their strategy.
And yet something always felt off. As if I were wearing a dress that was two sizes too big.
It wasn't until everything started falling apart that I understood why.
The life I had built wasn't chosen by me. It was orchestrated for me. A series of reactions to trauma, to expectations, to what I thought would keep me safe. I was living by proxy, building success as defined by others.
Here's what I've been asking myself lately, and what I invite you to consider:
What parts of your life did you actually choose? And what parts were chosen for you by circumstance, by trauma, by what you thought you should want?
I'm going to tell you something I've never shared publicly before. This year, I started a much deeper, more intensive form of therapy. After years of pushing forward, building businesses, and focusing on achievement, my body finally said: ENOUGH.
Old traumas began surfacing. Memories I'd buried deep started demanding attention. My nervous system was screaming what my mind had been avoiding: parts of me had been abandoned in the pursuit of “success” and “security”.
I was so focused on being strong, independent, and "having it all together" that I never allowed myself to heal the areas that were shattered.
Instead, I built my identity around achievement. Helping others. Looking like I had the answers.
But true strength isn't found in pretending we're unbreakable. It's found in acknowledging our fractures and choosing to rebuild with intention.
So I began asking myself dangerous questions:
What if I let go of everything I've built?
What if I stopped organizing my life around other people's comfort?
What if I trusted the voice inside me that says there's something more?
These questions terrified me. They still do. But they also opened a door. A door that can no longer close again.
I realized I've been so busy managing perceptions of being "successful" enough, "put together" enough, "helpful" enough that I missed the chance to discover who I actually am beneath all those adaptations.
This isn't just about career, location, or relationship status. It's about permission to exist as your full self, even when that self doesn't fit neatly into the boxes you (or others) have created.
So I'm letting it all go. I'm selling my house. I'm releasing my business. I'm preparing to move countries. Not because these things were wrong, but because they were fragments of someone I thought I needed to be just to please others.
And I'm finally ready to please myself. To be happy.
This isn't about burning everything down out of rebellion or anger. It's about the quiet courage to say: "This isn't mine. And I'm ready to find what is."
I think we all have parts of our lives that don't actually belong to us. Roles we've taken on, identities we've built, achievements we've pursued because they seemed safe or expected. Or like they might finally make us enough.
What would happen if you got quiet enough to hear what's actually yours? What would happen if you had the courage to let go of what isn't?
I don't have all the answers. I'm learning as I go. But I know this: there is immense power in discernment in learning to distinguish between what society, trauma, or other people have chosen for you and what your soul is actually calling you toward.
It's okay to let go of parts of your identity that don't serve you anymore, even if you built them with your own hands. Even if you're good at them. Even if others value them.
Your worth isn't tied to what you produce. Your purpose isn't found in pleasing others. Your path isn't measured by how closely it resembles someone else's definition of success.
So today, I invite you to ask yourself: What parts of your life did you actually choose? What would change if you chose again, this time listening only to the quiet voice within?
Until next time, remember: it's never too late to begin again.
With love,
Joni🖤