Who Did You Become For Love?

At fifteen years old, I thought I was choosing a future.

What I didn't realize was that I was choosing a version of myself I hoped would finally earn approval.

In this week's Transformation Tuesday episode, I reflect on growing up through divorce, chasing validation, becoming who I thought others wanted me to be, and the painful realization that external approval can never replace self-acceptance.

Together, we'll explore the masks we wear to belong, the identities we build around other people's expectations, and the courage it takes to return to our authentic selves.

If you've ever found yourself wondering who you are beneath the roles, responsibilities, and people-pleasing tendencies you've carried for years, this conversation is for you.

Because sometimes the greatest transformation isn't becoming someone new.

It's finding your way back to who you've always been.

✨ Reflection Question:
Who did you become for love, and who are you becoming now that you're learning to love yourself?

Thank you for listening and for being part of this growing community. Your stories, reflections, and shared experiences continue to remind us that none of us are walking this journey alone.

Music Credit:

Background music: "Cylinder Five" by Chris Zabriskie

Licensed under Creative Commons.

Music by Chris Zabriskie:
https://chriszabriskie.com/

Follow along for new episodes every week featuring conversations on healing, personal growth, mental health, spirituality, grief, self-discovery, and finding meaning in life's most challenging moments.

Transcript

0:01

Hello friends and welcome to Transformation Tuesday. I'm so grateful you're here. Today's episode begins with a question that has been sitting heavily on my heart lately. Who did you become for love? Not who you are, not who you want to be, but who did you become because you thought becoming that person would finally make someone choose you. I remember being 15 years old and trying to answer one of the biggest questions adults ask children. What do you want to be when you grow up? It's funny when you think about it. At 15, most of us are still trying to figure out who we are. Yet somehow we're expected to map out our entire future. Looking back, I don't think I was choosing a career. I think I was choosing approval. I think I was choosing what I believed would make my father proud. For much of my life, I chased validation from people who never realized they were being chased. I worked hard. I pushed myself. I tried to be successful. I tried to be useful. I tried to be enough. Because somewhere deep down, I believed that if I could become impressive enough, lovable enough, successful enough, maybe I would finally feel chosen. At the same time, I was watching my parents' marriage fall apart. Divorce changes a child in ways that are difficult to explain. The adults are trying to survive the collapse of a relationship. The child is trying to survive the collapse of a world. I watched my parents move on with their lives. And while I don't blame either of them, I think a part of me felt left behind. I learned very early that if I couldn't control what was happening around me, maybe I could control who I became. So I adapted. Maybe some of you can relate. I became whoever I thought people would like. The responsible one, the strong one, the agreeable one. The one who never asked for too much. The one who didn't make things difficult. The one who carried her own pain quietly. The problem with shape shifting is that eventually you forget what your original shape looked like. You spend so much time becoming what others need that you lose sight of what you need. You spend so much energy fitting in that you forget where you belong. And one day you wake up and realize you've built an entire life around being accepted by everyone except yourself. When it came time to choose my future, I chose a business degree. At the time, it seemed practical, responsible, safe. But if I'm being honest, I think part of me believed it would finally earn the approval I was searching for. What I've learned over the years is that validation is a moving target. You achieve one thing and immediately feel pressure to achieve another. You get the degree, you get the job, you hit the milestone, but the feeling you're searching for never quite arrives. Because external validation can never heal an internal wound. Only you can do that. Now that I'm older, I see my father differently. I see my parents differently. I see people differently. I realize that everyone is carrying fears we know nothing about. Everyone is fighting battles we cannot see. Everyone is trying to make sense of this complicated life. The older I get, the more compassion I have. But I also have more clarity. And the biggest realization I've had is this: transforming yourself into what other people want will never bring lasting happiness. It only brings exhaustion because you are constantly performing, constantly adjusting, constantly editing yourself to fit into spaces that may not have been meant for you in the first place. Real transformation isn't becoming someone new, it's returning to yourself. It's peeling back the layers, the expectations, the mask, the roles you've been playing for years. It's asking yourself, who am I beneath all of this? Who was I before I learned that love had to be earned? Who was I before I started apologizing for taking up space? Those questions aren't easy. In fact, they can be terrifying. Because once you start answering them honestly, your entire life may begin to change. You may outgrow relationships, you may set boundaries, you may disappoint people, you may choose a different path than the one everyone expected. But you also gain something incredibly valuable. You gain yourself. And I think that's what Transformation Tuesday is really about. Not becoming someone better, not fixing yourself, not reinventing yourself. It's about uncovering the person who has been there all along underneath the fear. The person who is worthy before the achievements. It only asks that you come home to who you've always been. Take care, friends.