An Ordinary Season
Letter #91: Grappling with the loss of my sense of identity, but deciding maybe I like it?
Earlier this month, I met with my somatic coach, Meryl Rowlands, for one of our scheduled writing sessions—something we do together, over Zoom, not as client and service provider, but as colleagues and friends who met through a 2023 cohort of Write of Passage.
Meryl had a promising theme she wanted to explore today in her writing, I did not. I described to her a question that’s been running through my head a lot lately, one I’d been unable to find the answer to. It’s that I’ve been confused about what my identity is right now, and unable to pinpoint how to describe myself to myself and explain myself to anyone else who may want to know. To be honest, I’ve been uncertain about my current identity ever since I returned from my big world travel back in November 2023.
For 7 years I was the young woman aspiring towards being a fashion designer and working towards that dream. For the next ten years I was living out that dream of being a designer in New York City. When I finally gave that job (and identity) up in October 2022, I became the woman who travels…alone…for a long period of time.
All three of those identities were easy to glom on to. With one short sentence I could explain who I was, what I valued, and what I was working towards. Now, on July 10, 2026, I still don’t have that one short sentence to describe myself anymore. I’m not sure what I’m working towards, and the lifelong dreams I have yet to accomplish feel out of reach. That lack of certainty leaves me feeling unanchored.
Meryl made the poignant observation that I am one of those people that need to have a dominant identity with which to define myself, and that not everyone has that same need. I realized she was right—if I can identify myself by my goals, values, and dreams, then I have something to guide the decisions I make in life. Without that dominant identity outlined for myself, I feel a bit lost and have trouble making decisions that feel like I’m on the right path.
In 2024, I continued traveling for about half the year, ending up in Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, Italy, Spain, and Mexico. The other half I spent back home with my parents in Wisconsin. In 2025, I decided to hunker down, save money, and determine where to plant roots next. In October 2025, that ended up being Philadelphia.
Deciding to move to Philadelphia was not some grand dream I had ever wanted to accomplish. Hilary and her husband, Andrei, moved there in 2022 as Hilary pursued the next chapter of her career as a print and graphic designer. I would visit Hilary and Andrei twice a year, at times staying as long as 10 days. The city really grew on me. When contemplating where to “settle down” for the next year (or more), I decided Philadelphia would be an exciting change. It checked off a handful of the boxes that were important to me—it puts me back in the east coast lifestyle and it’s within a 2 hour drive from many of my close friends living in New York City. Alie and Nate are moving to upstate New York and if I—one day—wanted to look for property to buy in upstate New York, it was a stone’s throw. Not to mention it’s half the price of living in NYC—maybe even more.
While I had been working for a law firm in Wisconsin ever since the end of September 2023—sometimes in office, sometimes remotely—I knew the Midwest wasn’t where I wanted to settle down. Thankfully, the firm owner I work for graciously gave me the green light to move my life to Philadelphia while continuing to work for the office in Wisconsin.
Now I’m living alone in a rented apartment in Northwest Philadelphia that is, hands down, the nicest place I’ve ever rented in my life. I go on a lot of walks in the woods and along the river wear I live. I attend fitness classes three times a week and cook meals for myself nearly every day. Every evening I pull down the projector screen and watch one of my favorite streaming shows from a plush sectional couch—my first brand new, non-second hand couch. My floors and walls are covered with textiles and prints I purchased over many years of travel. I give my houseplants weekly to bi-weekly soaks in the tub. My home is outfitted with household cleaners and toiletries from a package-free, bulk goods shop Hilary introduced me to. I work intermittent shifts at my local co-op grocery store. I sometimes stop at a local coffee shop for an iced coffee just to feel like I’m getting out of the house. I’ve been getting my nails done every 3 weeks, then head to the bar down the street for a glass of wine to admire my freshly manicured hands. I get to watch epic sunsets every evening from my 9th floor windows. The windows let in so much light, I don’t have to turn on any lamps until well after the sun goes down. In the winter months, if I wake around 7:30am, I can watch epic sunrises from my bedroom windows. I get a lot of sleep and hardly ever feel the need to nap anymore. It’s been uncomfortably hot this summer, so I’ve spent afternoons down at the outdoor pool which is surrounded by massive trees whose leaves rustle in the hot breeze.
If we’re both in town, I head down to Hilary and Andrei’s on Saturdays. I drop my compost at a local garden on the way. Then Hilary and I take her baby, Sabine, either for a walk in the neighborhood or a run along the Schuykill River. Inevitably we end up at a sidewalk cafe for an afternoon glass of wine. We often go back to their house to make dinner. Many times I decide to sleep over and we end the evening around 9pm—after watching a couple episodes of Arrested Development. It floods my heart to be here to watch my best friend’s baby grow up, just as I was able to watch Alie’s babies—Rowan and Margot—grow up.
I work 10-hour days Monday through Thursday so I have 3 day weekends every week. I work remotely so I’m able to focus and be productive. And when I finally close my laptop for the evening, there’s no commute. I don’t have to rush to have a quick dinner and get to bed in order to make it to the gym at 6am (that was my NYC life). I have time to lounge and sleep in before a workout. I read every evening and for several hours on the weekends. I genuinely enjoy working with all of my coworkers—women that have become dear friends to me—and I believe in the mission of what our firm is building and the communities we are serving.
I’ve finally made the decision to buy a puppy in the beginning of winter 2026—my last dog passed away in 2018 and I’ve been waiting for the right time to get another dog. Those years in between were filled with waiting—waiting to accomplish my dream of months or years of travel, waiting to find a partner to share the puppy-raising duties with, waiting to see if I’d settle down overseas. Some of those dreams have been achieved, others feel too lofty for me to keep waiting. If I kept finding excuses not to get another dog, I’d be waiting forever.
I’m still single with no prospects of finding a partner to settle down with. That dream still feels far-fetched. I make a decent salary that supports the life I've built, but not one that leaves much room for big dreams like buying a home or traveling abroad again. So, for now, both are on hold. I don’t plan on having kids and will likely never have the identity of being a mother (although I am very proud to be an auntie).
I’ve barely been making any art—my only creative outlet has been my writing sessions with Meryl, of which I am very thankful to have her to hold me accountable. But even with my writing, I haven’t found a theme to run with, nothing I’m excited enough to explore in depth.
There is so much for me to be grateful for—of that I have no doubt. On paper, my life is going swimmingly. But, strangely, this moment in time feels so…ordinary. As someone who grabs onto dominant identities and big dreams to ensure an exceedingly extraordinary life, things feel very ordinary for me right now. I haven’t whittled my latest identity down to one defining sentence that I can tether my pride to.
I’ve seen a silver lining creeping through the past few weeks, however. Meryl made an observation that my lack of pushing for the NEXT BIG THING is providing me with space to just be. It lessens my mind traffic, leaving room for thoughts other than what I need to accomplish next. Mentally and emotionally, I am working towards finding contentedness in predictable days, a smaller microcosm, and having very few exciting opportunities on the horizon.
When I first left on my big travels in 2023, one of my goals was to discover what it means to be bored again. After living such a fast-paced, exciting life, I wanted to remember the familiar complaint of long childhood days—boredom. I relearned what boredom was during the 10-day Vipassana meditation course in Kathmandu in April 2023. And now, here I am again, in July 2026, experiencing a different kind of boredom from leading a somewhat simpler life.
Honestly? It’s been kind of nice.
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