There was a time when I thought I was lost.
Not lost in a physical sense, but lost beneath expectations, responsibilities, disappointments, and the endless noise of trying to become who everyone else needed me to be.
Somewhere along the way, I drifted away from myself.
It didn’t happen all at once. It happened quietly. One compromise at a time. One ignored intuition at a time. One decision made to keep the peace instead of honoring my truth.
Until one day I looked around and realized I could no longer hear my own voice beneath the current of everyone else’s opinions.
The journey back wasn’t dramatic. There was no single moment of awakening. There was no map. There was only a quiet decision to begin listening again.
To sit with myself.
To trust what I felt.
To stop searching outside of myself for answers that had been waiting within me all along.
Coming home to your own current is not about becoming someone new. It is about remembering who you were before the world convinced you to be someone else.
It is learning to trust your inner compass. It is honoring your boundaries without guilt. It is choosing peace over approval. It is understanding that your worth was never dependent on being chosen, validated, or understood by everyone around you.
The river taught me this: no matter how far water travels, it never forgets its nature. It remains water. It remains itself. And no matter how far we wander from our truth, there is always a path home.