Somewhere Along the Way

There comes a point in life when you look around and realize you’ve gotten very good at being who everyone else needs you to be.

The mother. The daughter. The wife. The partner. The friend. The employee. The fixer. The one who remembers the birthdays, makes the appointments, keeps the peace, and somehow knows where everybody left their keys.

And somewhere in the middle of taking care of a life. you can lose sight of the person who is actually living it.

Not all at once. There’s no dramatic moment when you disapper. It happens quietly—in little pieces, over years.

Until one day you find yourself wondering:

When did I stop asking what I wanted?

Maybe that question feels selfish at first. We’ve spent so much of our lives being taught that taking care of everyone else is what good women do.

But wanting something for yourself doesn’t mean you love anyone else less.

Maybe it means you’ve finally realized that you belong on the list of people you take care of, too.

I think that’s why the ocean has always felt different to me. Standing at the edge of something so much bigger than myself has a way of quieting all the noise—the expectations, the responsibilities, the endless list of things I should be doing.

For a while, there’s just the water, the horizon, and me.

And sometimes, that’s where I can hear myself again.

Maybe we all have a place like that.

A place where the noise gets quieter. Where our shoulders drop. Where we stop thinking about who needs us next and remember what it feels like simply to be.

For me, it has always been near the water.

Maybe for you it’s somewhere else entirely.

But wherever it is, I hope you find your way back there often.

Because perhaps finding yourself isn’t really about becoming someone new.

Maybe it’s about returning to the places, the people, and the pieces of yourself that make you think—

This. This is where life feels like it should.

—Mermaid Musings