When I look at myself I feel a strange mix of comfort and confusion.
I recognize the features, the habits, the way I carry myself… but now I’m realizing that I don’t feel like I truly know who I am. Like the way people talk about with certainty or pride. Instead, I feel like I’m simply the result of everything I’ve done — a reflection of past decisions, experiences, mistakes, and adaptations. Like I’m always in motion, never quite landing on a fixed version of “me.”
But maybe that’s not a flaw. Maybe that’s just real.
I’ve come to realize that familiarity doesn’t always mean clarity. I’m familiar to myself — I know things make me smile, and certain things calm me down, but if you ask me what those things are, I honestly don’t really know. It’s usually just the things I gravitate toward in the moment. But deeper than that, I’m still learning who I am beneath the noise. Still discovering the “why” behind how I respond to life. And some days, that process feels more like meeting myself than knowing myself.
Things change. I change. I grow into comfort, then outgrow it. I evolve, stretch, and sometimes retreat. And every time, I meet a new version of me. Not always a better version — just a different one. One who’s shaped by what I’ve lived through, what I’ve learned to carry, what I’ve had to let go.
And I guess, I’ve just been discovering this part of myself — the one that doesn’t need to be fully figured out. The part that just is, whether or not I can name it. And something about that feels honest.
I don’t have a neat answer to the question, “Who am I?” But I want to, I guess to feel safe or more certain of who I am. However I also think knowing ourselves isn’t about locking in an identity. It’s about staying present enough to recognize when we’re changing — and gentle enough to welcome ourselves when we do.
So here I am: familiar, but not fully known. Still becoming. Still growing. Still showing up — not just to the world, but to myself.
And maybe that’s enough.
I Am Alina: Living in Unpunctuated Grace 