How I Define Personal Growth: My Honest Journey to Choosing Myself
If you had asked me a few years ago how I defined personal growth, I would’ve said something like, “reading more books, taking a course, building better habits.” Basically… being productive.
I convinced myself that taking endless courses during my evenings and weekends made me “ambitious” and “independent.” I truly believed that meant I was living life on my terms.
The truth?
I wasn’t living on my terms at all. I was hiding behind them.
I wasn’t choosing myself. I was floating — quietly, aimlessly — hoping that something outside of me would magically tell me who I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to want.
Most of my life was built from decisions rooted in fear, not desire.
Fear of never having enough money.
Fear of judgment from my friends & family.
Fear of choosing “wrong.”
Fear of looking crazy for wanting something different.
So I chose degrees and jobs based on what society said was the “smart” path… and based on what I could afford. I never had enough money or the faith in myself to quit a job I didn’t like or go backpack across Europe. I never trusted myself enough to choose anything for me. And because of that, I didn’t choose any path at all — which meant I still ended up on one… just not one I wanted.
The moment I realized I needed to change my life
There was a moment working as an assistant manager in a coffee shop, when everything clicked — painfully. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, wondering how this became my life… and I had this sudden, crystal-clear vision of the future:
If I didn’t choose a direction, this would be my direction.
Not because I wanted it, not because it lit me up, but because I was too scared to choose anything else.
I could see myself at 40, 50, still drifting, still on autopilot, still settling because settling felt safer than disappointing someone.
So I panicked — the way many of us do — and picked the “secure” option: insurance. Higher pay, steady job, looks respectable. But walking into insurance didn’t fix the root issue.
Because I still wasn’t choosing myself.
I was choosing fear disguised as responsibility.
Directionless doesn’t mean broken — but it does reveal truth
I spent years feeling like I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. I didn’t have hobbies because I never had money or confidence to try any. I didn’t chase passions because I was terrified of being judged. I didn’t trust my ideas because I thought everyone else knew better than I did.
Every time I tried to explore myself, I ended up in another course, hoping it would tell me who I was supposed to become. I thought that made me an independent adult.
Now I know I was just scared to hear my own truth.
I used to think I didn’t have any dreams.
But the truth is simpler and sadder: I didn’t feel safe enough to admit them.
The first time I saw people living differently
Living on Gabriola Island changed something in me. It was the first time I saw people who lived for themselves — truly lived. They worked odd jobs not for a career ladder but simply to fund their passions. They didn’t care what anyone thought of their life. They didn’t follow rules that didn’t matter to them.
They were just… happy.
Present.
Free.
And it cracked something open in me.
A quiet whisper: You’re allowed to live like that too.
I didn’t listen back then, but that whisper stayed with me.
Writing has always been the place I return to myself
When I look back, I realized something important: Even long before I understood healing or reinvention, writing was always my way back to myself.
I never had anyone I felt safe sharing things with, so my journal became the only place where my feelings had space. I remember being in grade 8 — around 12 years old — lying on my bedroom floor, listening to One-X by Three Days Grace on repeat, writing in my journal Every. Single. Day.
I was so sad, so mad, so lonely… and I don’t even remember what all of it was about. I just remember how heavy it felt.
And writing always made it feel a little lighter.
If I didn’t know what to write, I wrote lyrics. If I didn’t know how to express a feeling, music did it for me. I escaped through songs and filled pages with truth I couldn’t say out loud.
Looking back now, I see it clearly: Writing was the first place I ever chose myself.
It was the one thing that was always mine — the only space where I didn’t judge myself, where I didn’t perform, where I didn’t try to be who people expected me to be.
And in a way, this blog is the adult version of that little girl on the bedroom floor — except now, I’m not writing to escape my life.
I’m writing to create it.
Choosing a path by not choosing a path
Fast forward to a misaligned relationship — the kind that makes you question how you ended up here. The kind that forces you to finally face yourself.
I realized something that hurt, but also changed me: I had spent my entire life piggy-backing on other people’s dreams.
Their passions.
Their routines.
Their direction.
Their confidence.
And I didn’t like that realization.
So I started meditating. I started slowing down. I started asking myself actual questions. And eventually…
I started this blog.
Not because I felt brave or ready — I truly didn’t.
But because for the first time in my adult life, I wanted something for me. I wanted to choose myself, even if I didn’t fully know what that meant yet.
So what does personal growth mean to me now?
My definition used to be about habits, discipline, productivity, checking boxes, reading a certain number of books, taking a certain number of courses.
But now? Personal growth feels completely different.
It’s not about improvement anymore — it’s about remembering.
Growth is remembering who I am underneath all of the conditioning.
Underneath the fear.
Underneath the expectations.
Underneath the survival-mode decisions.
It’s reconnecting with my essence — the part of me that existed before I cared what anyone thought.
It’s doing what feels good, not what looks good. It’s choosing what aligns, not what impresses.
Because here’s what I know now: If it doesn’t feel good, it’s not the truth of what my soul is meant for.
If it feels good — even if it feels uncomfortable at first — that is the way.
The fear? That’s the ego. Your ego is the only thing that’s going to get hurt. Your soul cannot be hurt. It’s your connection to God.
I have realized that no one else is living your life except you. You have to be okay with how it ends up.
Growth, for me, is the journey of learning to trust myself again. Coming back to myself.
I don’t want to wake up at 60 in a life I never chose
One day, this thought hit me so hard it took my breath away:
What if I wake up at 60 still feeling lost, still not knowing myself, still not fulfilled, still scrolling away my days because I was too scared to live them?
I don’t want that. I don’t want to end up on stress leave. I don’t want regrets. I don’t want a life built from “shoulds” and fear.
And I don’t want that for you either.
So how do I define personal growth?
It’s simple now:
The more I return to myself, the more I grow. The more I choose myself, the more I grow. The more I follow my truth, the more I grow.
Growth is a remembrance of my truth. Growth is who my essence is. It is who I truly am under all the conditioning. The closer I get to that, the more I get to know myself, the more I do for myself and live my life through that, THAT is growth.
Because no one else is living your life except you.
And your life — your truth — is worth choosing.
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