Recently on the podcast, we talked about finding yourself, and as usual, the conversation wandered into other topics I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.
The phrase itself rubs me the wrong way because it implies that you were lost to begin with. And it often comes from the same aspire to perspire corners of the internet that make me roll my eyes (which is ironic, considering I write a whole newsletter about habits).
But still—eye roll aside—I have to admit I’ve found different parts of myself over the past decade or so. And our conversation reminded me of that.
Back when I was studying medicine, the plan was to move to the U.S. and practice there. I told myself it was about working at the highest standards, under the best possible conditions, to deliver care for patients. But the truth?
$$$$$$$$$$$$
I wanted to be a rich babe. I wanted to afford the finest versions of the things I liked. At the time, I was in my peak fashion girl era. I had a mental inventory of which bags and shoes would sit in my walk-in wardrobe, complete with full-length mirrors and perfect lighting.
I even considered getting a Master’s in Public Health—not out of a deep passion for public health, but because I wanted one of those high-flying, acronym-laden jobs that would have me jetting across the world in style.
As it happened, the American Doctor dream died a slow, painful death. I came back home to regroup, and life got real. The Central Bank of Daddy had shut down. I had to earn my own bread, and I wasn’t earning a lot of it. I still wanted to be a rich babe. The bags became less important, but other things became more important. I wanted to be able to say yes to the group trips without worrying too much about how I’d fuel my car afterwards. My parents were retired, and I wanted to be able to support them financially without having to forgo the things that make me happy. It did not take long to realise that I wouldn’t be able to afford these things on my meagre salary, and this helped make the decision to move countries somewhat easier.
Moving to England felt like a breath of fresh, financially solvent air. I loved the reliability of an on-time salary and the things it could afford me. I booked solo trips on a whim, discovered sample sales, and did a lot of financial damage—none of which I regret.
Gradually, I started to notice that people earning less than I did seemed to be living rather well. I also started to develop interests that made me deeply happy and didn’t cost much. I realised that a cute, well-made bag made me just as happy (sometimes more!) than the ones on my aspirational list. And that doing things made me happier than owning things ever did.
Looking back, I can see how my values didn’t just shift—they evolved quietly, over time. A few things contributed:
Time.
Sometimes you need a bit of life experience under your belt for the truly important things to become clear. It takes lived experience to understand the true cost of things, not just in money, but in energy, peace and freedom. Where I once dreamed of a job that flew me around the world, I now dream of planning my trips around dance conferences because I know that would make me happier.
Environment.
Moving to a more stable society helped, sure. But even more impactful was the mindset of the people I found myself around. The people you surround yourself with can have a significantly positive or negative impact. Seeing others live by values I hadn’t considered for myself opened my eyes.
Identity beyond ambition.
For a long time, I defined myself by what I wanted to achieve. But somewhere along the way, I started asking myself who I wanted to be, how I wanted to show up in other aspects of my life besides work. That shift—from doing to being—is subtle, but it changes everything.
Consumption.
Once upon a time, I was deep in fashion blogs and gossip sites. I knew every blogger, every street-style photographer by name, and I restricted my leisure reading to fiction books. These days, I’m more careful about what I expose myself to and consume. I avoid gossip (even the newsy kind) and read a mix of fiction and nonfiction. That shift alone has changed my mental landscape in ways I did not expect.
Responsibility.
When Central Bank of Daddy shut down, I had to earn for myself and stretch what I earned. That kind of pressure forces clarity. You start to separate what you genuinely enjoy from what you were just performing for. You quickly learn the difference between what you want and what you need. And sometimes, what you need surprises you.
Burnout (or disillusionment).
There’s also something sobering about chasing a dream so hard (like the American doctor dream) and watching it unravel. When the shiny, ambitious plan didn’t work out, I had to ask myself: what else could life look like? What other things did I want for myself? How could I go about designing a more meaningful life for myself? Sometimes it's in those quiet, disappointing pivots that we find something more grounded.
Joy (the quiet kind).
Turns out, not all happiness is loud or luxurious. While I still want to be a rich babe, my idea of rich has changed. These days, my idea of luxury is having time to do the random, frivolous things that bring me joy. I can not tell you how happy it makes me to see a blanket I crocheted with my own hands wrapped around one of my friends’ babies. Or the joy I feel when I wake up on a Thursday morning knowing I’ll be spending my day playing with fabric and eating cake. These small joys have quietly reshaped how I think about wealth and success.
Now that I have a clearer sense of what is important to me and why, decision-making feels so much easier. I can say yes—or no—to things based on whether they align with my values, and that alone saves me so much time and stress.
So if I had to sum it up, I’d say: finding yourself matters—but don’t cling too tightly to the version you’ve found. Leave room to evolve. The things you want now may not be the things you want in ten years, and that’s perfectly okay.
If this resonates, here are a few prompts to sit with this week:
What’s something you used to want badly that no longer feels important?
What values are guiding your decisions right now—and where did they come from?
Is there a version of success you're still chasing that no longer fits who you are?
Who around you is modeling a life that feels true—and what can you learn from them?
No pressure to have big answers—sometimes just asking the questions is enough to get you a little closer to yourself.
Came across this in the latest James Clear newsletter and chuckled because why am I being dragged. Anyway, I thought I’d share the dragging.
Recently I listened to
Episode 182 of The Knowledge Project. Shane talks with Todd Herman about several things, with the central theme being Identity. Todd is a “Global leader in peak performance” with over 20 years of experience coaching elite athletes and entrepreneurial leaders. He had some fascinating insights on mindset and how it impacts our thoughts and actions. The episode had more sports references than I would like, but it was a very insightful conversation.
Recently I read
Betting on You: How to Put Yourself First and (Finally) Take Control of Your Career by Laurie Ruettimann. This is a book written by a former HR professional, detailing the steps she took to take back her life. I am currently in this phase where I am rethinking what work might look like for me going forward, so this was a timely read. I liked that she took a holistic approach, not focusing solely on increasing productivity but also considering how to optimise other areas of life outside of work.
Writing is humbling you know. I sat in front of my laptop for several hours with a completely different topic in mind but somehow this is what wanted to be written so, here you go.
The clocks have changed and the days are longer, albeit still cold where I am. I’ve recently become an aunty once again and even though I am yet to finish the blanket for my latest baby, I am so thankful for the blessing of being an Aunty. Much respect to all the mummies because it really and truly is not easy.
Here’s wishing you a whole lifetime of giving yourself permission to grow and change as life does, without feeling like you’ve “lost” anything along the way.
Chioma.