When You Realize You've Abandoned Yourself (Again)

A Whispers from My Wild Soul Post

This morning, it hit me: I’ve done it again.

Somewhere along the way, I started living entirely for everything outside of myself — for the people I serve, for the schedules, the endless activities, the expectations, the noise.

I’m still meditating. Still connecting with Spirit. Still checking all the boxes that should keep me centered. But I’m not.

Because somewhere in the middle of doing all the right things, I unplugged from myself.

My body is rebelling.

My mind has turned cruel.

And I can feel my soul quietly standing in the corner waiting to be acknowledged.

The irony is not lost on me.

This — this connection to self, to inner voice, to truth is what I teach women to do.

And yet here I am, running on empty, living for everyone else while wondering why I feel hollow.

When Everything Becomes for Someone Else

Here’s one of the clearest signs I’ve disconnected from myself:

Everything I do turns into content.

Every thought, every ritual, every quiet moment becomes something I mentally start shaping into a post, a lesson, a shareable takeaway. It stops being for me and starts being for them.

And when that happens, I’m not actually living anymore. I’m documenting. Performing. Offering every ounce of what I experience to others before I’ve even had the chance to absorb it myself.

Even if you’re not a content creator, I think you’ll understand this because women do this all the time.

We live to share it.

To prove we’re good. To show we’re capable. To validate that we’re enough.

Maybe you’re the mom who volunteers for everything, packs the perfect lunches, and always looks put-together — even when you’re crumbling. Maybe you’re the employee who never says no, the dependable one, the one who “has it handled.”

Or maybe you’ve latched onto the opposite identity — the hot-mess mom, the self-sabotager, the “bad-luck-lady.” Because sometimes it’s not perfection we’re chasing, it’s familiarity. That label feels safer than standing in the uncertainty of your true self.

We fall back on these roles because they’re easier to wear than the raw truth of who we are when we strip the labels away.

But the second we disconnect from our inner knowing, we hand the steering wheel to those labels, and they start running the show.

How It Feels When You’ve Quietly Abandoned Yourself

You think you’re just tired. Or stressed. Or in a funk. But really, you’ve gone missing from your own life.

It starts with living for everyone else’s needs.

Your mind spins around what everyone else requires. You’re planning, anticipating, fixing, soothing. Your own needs don’t even make the list.

Then it morphs into living for what’s next.

You stop being present altogether.

You become a walking planner with every moment consumed by the ten things that come after it. Even when you’re eating, showering, or driving, your mind is three steps ahead, scripting what needs to be done next and the next after that. There’s no actual living happening, just constant mental project-management.

And that’s where the overwhelm breeds.

You start to feel like you can’t catch up, like you’re perpetually behind, drowning in what hasn’t even happened yet. Sometimes it drives you into frantic bursts of productivity, and sometimes it paralyzes you completely. Either way, it leaves you exhausted and disconnected from the moment you’re actually in.

Then the things that keep you human fall away.

You stop caring for yourself - walking, journaling, enjoying yourself, or eating well. The small, ordinary things that anchor you feel optional. It's likely not even a conscious decision but one made for the sake of survival.

Your coping mechanisms quietly take over.

Scrolling, drinking, snacking, shopping — whatever your numbing agent of choice is, it ramps up. You call it “unwinding,” but it’s really escaping.

Then your mind isolates you. And this part is brutal. It’s not just loneliness. It’s that voice whispering, no one likes you. No one wants to hear from you. Everyone has abandoned you. You start to believe you’re being excluded, that you’ve somehow become unlovable.

That’s not the truth. That’s your mind trying to keep you safe. It’s saying, “If we don’t connect, we can’t get hurt.” But it keeps you small, silent, invisible.

And usually, this shows up right after you’ve been expanding — after things were finally starting to flow. Because growth is new. New feels unsafe. So your nervous system slams on the brakes: Stop. Retreat. Hide.

It’s not failure. It’s your body mistaking expansion for danger.

Then the irritability kicks in. The short fuse. The tears that sit right behind your eyes.

It’s not you being dramatic. It's your soul yelling, “You’re not listening to me.”

And when all of this hits, you feel it — in your mind, your body, your spirit.

The first step back is noticing. Seeing it. Naming it.

Because if you don’t see it, you stay stuck in the loop — living for the role instead of the woman.

Finding Your Way Back to Yourself

1. Pull Back — Really Pull Back

You cannot think your way out of this. You have to reclaim your focus.

Women’s lives are packed so tightly that balance becomes an illusion. We try to give 100% to everything — work, kids, relationships, house, health — as if the pie can stay perfectly sliced forever. It can’t.

Right now, your self-connection slice needs to become the biggest one on the plate. That means something else has to shrink.

And you already know what that “something” is.

You just don’t want to admit it.

So here’s your dare:

Look honestly at where your energy is going. What are you doing out of obligation, guilt, habit, or fear of disappointing someone? That’s where you start pulling back.

Don’t overthink it — you’ll feel it instantly. You’ll know the thing that’s stealing your energy. You don’t need me to name it for you. You just need to be willing to let it go, at least for now.

Because if everything is equally important, you will always end up last. And that is no longer sustainable.

2. Slow Your Mind Down to Where Your Feet Are

If you’ve turned into a walking planner — always thinking ten steps ahead — this is your sign to stop.

Planning isn’t bad; it keeps life running. But living entirely in what’s next keeps you in a state of low-grade panic.

Start practicing presence in ridiculously small ways:

When you’re washing dishes, only wash the dishes.

When you’re eating, only eat.

When you’re driving, only drive.

You don’t have to meditate for an hour; you just have to show up for the moment you’re already in.

Every time your mind starts racing ahead, gently bring it back with a question:

What’s actually happening right now? What do I see, smell, feel, hear?

It sounds simple, but this is how you reclaim your nervous system from constant future-tense living.

When your mind slows down to where your feet are, peace starts to find you again.

3. Listen to Your Body Like It’s Speaking a Language You Forgot

How good are you, honestly, at listening to your body?

Not checking in on how it looks, but on how it feels.

When I sat down this morning to set my goals for the next moon cycle, one of them was to reconnect with my body. Because lately, it’s been loud.

My digestion has been a mess.

My sleep has been restless.

Tension headaches daily.

Seasonal allergies that had all but disappeared are suddenly back.

My shoulders and neck are so tight it’s like I’m wearing armor.

And my hips ache — the kind of deep ache that says something emotional is buried there.

Every one of these things points to something different energetically — to a different energy center in the body that’s calling for my attention.

If you’re not sure what your body is trying to tell you, do a little digging into the chakras or energy centers. Or go see an energy healer. Someone who can help you interpret your body’s signals on a deeper level.

And to be clear — if something feels medically concerning, absolutely go see a doctor. But if you know something’s off and no test can explain it, maybe it’s not just physical. Maybe it’s energy asking to be seen, tended, and released.

Whatever route you take, don’t settle for “this is just how it is.” Don’t normalize what doesn’t feel normal. If it doesn’t feel right, it’s not your norm.

Your body isn’t betraying you — it’s communicating.

It’s the most loyal messenger you have.

4. Reconnect with What’s Purely Yours

When was the last time you did something for no other reason than it makes you feel alive? Not because it’s productive, not because it helps someone else, not because it would make a cute post, but because it’s yours.

For me, that’s creativity — writing, learning, making things with my hands. For you, it may look different. The point isn’t what it is. The point is that it belongs to you alone.

You need at least one thing in your life that doesn’t feed anyone but you.

5. Be Brutally Honest

This is the part that requires guts. Sit with yourself — no filters, no performance — and answer these questions:

• Which roles am I performing instead of living?

• Where am I chasing validation instead of fulfillment?

• What labels or identities feel safer than my truth right now?

• Where is my energy going that doesn’t need it?

• What is my body trying to tell me that I keep ignoring?

• What am I afraid might happen if I finally listen to my own voice?

• What would coming home to myself actually look like — not ideally, but right now?

  
  

Write the answers down. Don’t pretty them up. Truth is messy before it’s freeing.

Final Thought

Coming home to yourself isn’t glamorous. It’s not a spa day. It’s not a reset reel.

It’s a reckoning.

It’s catching yourself mid-spin and saying, Wait. I’m doing it again.

It’s giving yourself permission to let something go, to stop performing long enough to feel your own pulse again.

You don’t have to fix it all.

You just have to notice it, name it, and start turning back toward yourself.

Because the moment you do, you’re already halfway home.

Whispers from My Wild Soul | A weekly blog series exploring midlife awakening, sacred living, crone wisdom, and the magic of remembering who you are.