Yep. There it is.
Your once-proud, hyper-efficient, achievement-obsessed ego is now curled in the fetal position on your metaphorical bathroom floor. It’s ugly crying. Mascara running. Asking questions like:
“Who am I?” “What do I even believe in anymore?” “Should I just get a dog, move to the bush, and grow tomatoes?”
If you’ve hit this stage, congratulations, you’ve officially outgrown the version of yourself you’ve been duct-taping together with job titles and socially acceptable sarcasm.
You’re not having a breakdown.
You’re having a breakthrough.
So… now what?
Oh right—“Go find yourself.”
Because it’s that easy, right?
Just grab your spiritual compass, fire up some yoga music, slap on a pair of ethically sourced harem pants, and voilà!—you’re healed.
Wrong.
Finding yourself is dirty, uncomfortable, and disorienting. It frequently involves crying in the bush with a group of strangers while pretending you’re “just tired” and definitely not in the middle of an existential unravelling.
So let’s rehash the usual suspects behind your internal breakdown. The psychological Three Stooges that dragged you here and are now throwing a tantrum because their power is slipping…
The Three Stooges of the Psyche: And Why They Suck at Soul Work
Meet the Id, Ego, and Superego, the psychological clowns that tag-team your self-worth like it’s an episode of WWE: Internal Edition.
The Id: Your Gremlin on Red Cordial
It wants what it wants, when it wants it: pleasure, dopamine, snacks, rage, and zero consequences.
“You’re lost? Let’s drink, binge-watch conspiracy docs, and punch a vending machine.”
The Ego: Your Fragile PR Rep
Used to get high off rank, labels, productivity, and LinkedIn engagement.
“Who am I without my job title and custom email signature?!”
The Superego: Your Inner Judgy Boomer
Made up of every “should,” guilt trip, and perfectionist ideal you ever swallowed.
“You’re embarrassing. You should have figured this out already. Also, why aren’t you volunteering more?”
These three muppets start screeching the second you lose your external identity. They’re here to protect the identity you built to survive.
So when you lose your identity, they panic. They don’t realise that losing yourself might be the best damn thing that ever happened.
Ok, so finding who you are can be done in many ways. Let’s briefly explore some.
Letting Go
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: This is the hardest thing you can do because of all the years of sh*t compacted deep in you. Before you can find yourself, you have to let go of who you were pretending to be. All I can say is I am sorry for whatever happened to you, but you need to let go. You will be okay.
Let go of:
- Your performative toughness.
- Your guilt.
- Your medals.
- Your self-pity.
- Your “safety plan” that’s actually a cage.
Let go of trying to be who everyone else needs you to be.
And in that space—in the ache—you will feel the first breath of the real you.
Not the role. Not the story. Just you.
Sitting in Silence: Arguing with Your Own Brain Without Moving Your Face
So, someone tells you to try meditation.
And you think:
“Sure, I’ll sit still and breathe. How hard can doing nothing be?”
Turns out, very.
Five minutes in, and you’re not achieving inner peace; you’re in a full-blown mental hostage situation.
Your back hurts. Your leg’s asleep. You’re pretty sure your to-do list just grew teeth and is breathing behind you.
Your Id wants snacks. Your Superego is judging your posture. And your Ego is frantically whispering, “We’re wasting time, do something productive, answer an email, anything!”
But you stay. You sit. You breathe.
And something strange happens.
Between the chaos and the cravings, in the tiny gap between your thoughts, you feel… stillness.
It was not enlightenment, not fireworks, just stillness. It was like your soul took a deep breath it forgot it needed.
That silence? That’s not emptiness. That’s you, beneath the noise.
It’s awkward at first. Boring. Infuriating. But that silence becomes a mirror. And eventually, it shows you the one thing all the distractions were hiding:
Truth.
And yeah, sometimes it sucks. But it’s real. And that’s the point.
Psychedelic Ego Death: AKA, Getting Drop-Kicked by the Universe
Maybe you thought you’d shortcut the whole journey and head straight to plant medicine. Let’s talk about psychedelic ego death.
You think you’re going to “gain insight.” Instead, you’re going to be peeled like an onion in a hurricane.
One moment, you’re a human. The next, you’re a floating awareness in a void, watching your entire personality disintegrate into cosmic fart dust.
The Id is screaming for snacks. The Ego is clawing at existence. The Superego is disgusted that you’re crying into a cactus.
And you? You’re just watching it all burn, realising:
“Oh… none of that was really me, was it?”
Welcome to the great unravelling.
Know Your Values (Not Your Vices)
Forget titles. Forget what’s on your resume. Ask: What do I stand for when no one’s watching?
- Integrity?
- Curiosity?
- Kindness (even though some people suck)?
- Freedom?
- Truth?
Your core values are your inner compass when your GPS is fried and the map’s written in another language.
Try journaling: “What would I fight for even if no one clapped?” “What makes me proud of myself that no one else sees?”
This is your raw material.
Trojans Trek: Soul Rehab in the Bush
If psychedelics aren’t your jam, there’s always sweat, stillness, and shared struggle. A week in the bush with other emotionally constipated legends.
Welcome to Trojans Trek.
You start cynical. You end cracked open.
The bush doesn’t care about your resume. It cares if you show up. If you listen. If you speak the truth instead of your script.
Somewhere between sunrises, deep conversations and night-time fire chats, something shifts. The mask drops. You hear your own voice. You realise you’re not alone.
And when another grown human looks at you and says, “Yeah, same, mate,” you feel something ancient: Connection. Truth. Real f*ing healing.
Moving the Body: A.K.A. Exorcising the Demons Through Squats and Swearing
Start exercising again. Not for gains. Not for aesthetics. Not to impress the mirror or punish yourself for last night’s kebab.
No, this time it’s different. This time, it’s about moving the messed-up sh*t out of your body before it turns into a midlife tattoo or a Facebook rant.
You drag yourself into a walk, a run, a stretch, whatever doesn’t feel like self-sabotage. You hate it. Everything creaks. Your lungs panic like you’ve been chased by a bear. Your knees make sounds like an old pirate ship.
But something shifts.
You sweat. You grunt. You swear. And slowly, you return to your body.
Because here’s the thing: your body remembers everything your mind tried to forget. All the adrenaline. All the shutdowns. All the moments you had to keep going when you really should’ve just curled into a ball and cried.
Exercise isn’t punishment anymore. It’s integration. It’s movement with meaning.
You’re not working out to become someone else. You’re moving to become yourself again.
Every step, every push, every breath is your nervous system whispering,
“We’re still here. We’re not done. Let’s keep going.”
Give It Back – Why Real Healing Is Contagious
Once you find a bit of yourself, here’s the deal: You give it back.
Now, I don’t mean like those people you see on social media who pretend to help and give back. All the while, someone with a camera is filming for the likes.
I mean, you show up for others like you, without the secret media team. You share your story, not to preach, but to say: “I hear you, mate.”
You become the person who lights a torch in the dark, not just for yourself, but for the ones still lost in it.
That’s the power. That’s the real healing, not just in finding yourself, but in helping others find themselves too.
When you give from your healed scars, not your unprocessed wounds, you transform communities, one vulnerable conversation at a time.
That’s the ripple effect.
Final Word: You’re Not Lost
After all of that, I say finding yourself is a scam. You’ve been in there the whole time, just buried under coping mechanisms, social scripts, and fear.
The trek isn’t outward. It’s inward, downward, through the mud and the madness.
So face your Stooges. Kick them if you have to.
Walk into the bush.
Eat the mushroom (or don’t).
Speak the truth.
Hold space.
Go for a run, ride or swim.
Give it back.
And when someone asks, “How did you find yourself?”
Smile.
“I didn’t. I just stopped being who I wasn’t.”
