Everyone gets lost sometimes. It is especially easy in a bustling city like New York. You can get lost by turning the wrong way on the street, taking a different train, or just by passing your apartment building while lost in thought. Something like that is usually easy to fix. You can look up a map on your phone or ask a stranger for directions and be on your way. I wish it had been just as easy to find a path to yourself when you feel lost.

During our last conversations, my psychologist gave me homework. “Do something that brings you joy,” she instructed me, saying it with the conviction that such a task is as simple as cracking an egg. I also thought it would be simple. I sat down on my couch and asked myself what I would like to do today. As I was sitting for some time, I realized my mind was blank. “Okay,” I thought, “Perhaps coming up with something that brings joy is a bit intimidating. What about my favorite hobbies?” Nothing came to mind as I sank into that couch. As I was sulking there, I suddenly realized I had no idea what I liked.

It seems that I have been so busy pursuing my career that I’ve lost the sense of who I am as a person. What do I like? What do I want? What truly makes me happy? In the midst of networking events, cover letters, and interviews, I lost the open, curious, and confident person I remember myself to be. The one who is not afraid to say something wrong. The one who thinks that risking and experimenting is a part of life. The one who is fearless even when she is afraid.

It is astonishing to find yourself so lost that you cannot even recall what you like doing in your free time. The task I was given seemed like an impossible burden. What do you do when you do not feel joy anymore? When all that you feel is the shame for not being productive and fear of never finding your way forward?

I wish there was an instruction manual for finding yourself.

But there is none.

Instead, there is simply me, my experiences, and my memories. It is I who remember how much I loved to redraw Tom and Jerry in my notebook or that, given a paper and a pencil, I could turn any boring dinner at my parents’ friends’ house into a spy mission. I was the girl who believed that any skill could be learned, any knowledge mastered; you just needed patience and a bit of humor.

I do not remember how it feels to be that girl, but I can remind myself by doing the things she used to love. It all starts small. A paper and a pencil were enough for her, so I will see what I can do with them now.

I do not believe I have a clear path to real me yet. Perhaps I will never be the same girl who loved to dress up and take pictures of herself while believing that she could be anything and anyone all at once. However, I hope through the memories of her, I will be able to find someone else hidden in me. Even if it will not be the exact version of her, I will be happy to meet the person hiding there.

Though this path seems wanky and uncertain, and there is no wise wizard who could tell me how this story ends, I am certain that after conquering New York’s subway system, there is nothing I can't figure out.

With Warmth,

From a less lost version A.