This disconnection doesn’t happen overnight. It’s gradual. Subtle. You don’t even notice it at first. Maybe you’ve spent years meeting others’ expectations, shapeshifting to fit in, or silencing your own desires to keep the peace.

It’s funny how, with certain things in life, no matter how evident they feel on a personal level, we still find ways to sidestep them in search of something different. That’s exactly how I’ve felt about this corner of the internet that I’ve built.

Although I haven’t been actively writing here for the past year, I’ve spent countless hours ideating, fantasizing, and circling back to this project. And no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise (read: self-sabotage), I still find myself drifting to the muijamag.com homepage, bursting with ideas.

But why? Why do we resist what we know to be true—especially when that truth is about ourselves? Who are we trying to convince when we go against our own nature?

Losing touch with yourself can feel like floating through life without an anchor, disconnected from your own mind, body, and soul. But recovering a sense of self isn’t about finding who you are—it’s about reconnecting with who you’ve always been beneath the noise.

Running Into the Wall, Again and Again

For years, I’ve known—at least to some degree—what I want from my life. The dreams, the aspirations, the things that make me feel most alive. Yet, I’ve often struggled to take concrete steps toward them. Instead, I found myself caught in a cycle of frustration, shame, and guilt, stuck in an endless loop that always led back to the same invisible blockade.

Why did I keep running headfirst into the same wall? And why could I never break through it? Maybe the point was never to smash through it with sheer willpower but to finally face it. Recognize it. Study it. With curiosity and compassion.

It turns out, I couldn’t run away—because I was the wall. I had built the biggest, damn wall. I had locked myself inside it. Trapped. Secluded. Watertight.

But as in Ingmar Bergman’s film Persona, the doctor tells the protagonist, Elisabet, “Your hiding place isn’t watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you’re forced to react.”

The Cost of Disconnection

Life doesn’t work that way. We cannot be islands, protecting ourselves from the world indefinitely. I can’t, at least. I love people—or rather, I love human connection. I love exploring, creating, and sharing moments that make my heart sing. But I had walled myself off, not just creatively, but from others—and, most importantly, from myself.

Losing touch with yourself can feel like floating through life without an anchor, disconnected from your own mind, body, and soul. But recovering a sense of self isn’t about finding who you are—it’s about reconnecting with who you’ve always been beneath the noise.

At times, it felt like I ceased to exist when I was alone at home. Who am I when nobody’s watching? Who am I when I have no one to mirror, no personality to latch onto, no external force to shape me?

Why We Lose Ourselves

This disconnection doesn’t happen overnight. It’s gradual. Subtle. You don’t even notice it at first. Maybe you’ve spent years meeting others’ expectations, shapeshifting to fit in, or silencing your own desires to keep the peace. Maybe a major life change—loss, trauma, burnout—shattered your sense of identity, leaving you drifting. Or maybe you’ve been running on autopilot for so long that you don’t even know what you truly want anymore.

For some, a strong sense of self was never fully developed. If we were raised in environments where our needs, emotions, or individuality weren’t acknowledged—where we had to prioritize others to feel safe—our identity may have been shaped more by survival than by self-discovery. In those cases, recovering yourself might actually mean discovering yourself for the first time.

I had internalized the voices that once shaped me—the demanding, critical parent and the vulnerable child (concepts used in schema therapy). But instead of nurturing the child within me, I kept silencing her.

Recently, I felt a sudden resurgence of creativity and instinctively reached for my bible—The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I opened the book to where it felt most intuitive: the very first chapter. And the words my eyes landed on?

“Remember, your artist is a child. Find and protect that child.”

And suddenly… It all made sense.

Becoming a Safe Space for Myself

Our inner artist—our creative, intuitive self—is a child. And like any child, it needs safety to come out and play. If not in our external environment, then at the very least, safety within ourselves. But I had been a hostile host to my inner child. I berated her, condemned her, shamed her, and shoved her into the farthest corner of my being.

And in doing so, I had left myself with a deep, nagging emptiness.

Breaking Down the Wall, One Brick at a Time

As I begin to rediscover myself, I realize that the wall I had built wasn’t just something to tear down in one go—it’s something I need to dismantle slowly, brick by brick. Every layer of resistance, every moment of doubt, and every instance of self-sabotage are pieces of the wall I once thought was permanent. But now, I see them as part of the process—necessary steps in softening the hardened places inside me.

What I’ve come to understand is that this wall wasn’t just an obstacle—it was a defense.It was my way of protecting myself from the fear of judgment, from the discomfort of making mistakes, and from the vulnerability of showing up as myself. The wall kept me safe from the outside world, but in doing so, it also kept me locked away from the very things I craved: creativity, connection, and fulfilment. But as I face it with compassion and curiosity, I realize that the wall no longer needs to stand. The more I peel back, the more I feel like myself again—authentic, unshackled, and open.

The process isn’t easy, and it won’t be quick. But each time I let go of an old belief, or face a moment of fear, I chip away at that wall. And I am reminded: the real freedom lies not in breaking through it with force, but in allowing it to dissolve over time. It’s in the small, patient steps I take to reconnect with who I truly am—without the barrier, without the fear.

So, I’ll keep going. And if I stumble or feel unsure, that’s part of the journey too. I know now that the wall was never meant to keep me stuck. It was simply something I built to protect myself. And in dismantling it, I’m not losing anything—I’m finding everything I was meant to be.