Sometimes I wonder why some people only change when life completely breaks them apart. I was one of those people.
As a child, I already thought about the meaning and meaninglessness of life. I wondered if I even had a place here on earth. Later, as an adult, I tried to live the life I thought I was supposed to live.
I stayed in a relationship for 11 years, even though deep down I knew it was not the right relationship for me. I worked for 15 years in HR and corporate jobs where I constantly felt uncomfortable. I went through two surgeries and three burnouts. I shaped myself around expectations and adapted to what others needed from me.
Was it perseverance, strength, discipline? Now I think it was mostly fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of change. And the lack of knowing that other worlds and possibilities existed.
If you do not know anything else, it is hard to imagine another life. Especially when everyone around you lives in the same bubble and tries to keep you in it. Sometimes stepping outside that bubble means risking love, friendship, or belonging.
I traveled a lot during those years. I visited different continents, saw different cultures, and met different people. But at the time, those trips did not truly change me. They were vacations. I observed other ways of living, but I still returned to the same life afterward.
Everything changed after a solo trip to Guatemala.
There was something about Lake Atitlán and the volcanoes surrounding it that touched me deeply. It was the energy of the place, the simplicity of life, the nature, the history, and the distance from everything I knew.
For the first time in a long time, I slowed down enough to really look at my own life.
And I did not like what I saw.
I missed being myself, even though I did not know who that was. I saw how often I had adapted myself to fit expectations and how disconnected I had become from who I truly was.
I cried for days. I became sick. My nervous system seemed to be telling me what my mind had been ignoring for years: I could no longer continue living this way.
Something had to change.
I came back home and returned to work, but I felt in every possible way that I could not continue anymore. My body started reacting. I became sick and ended up in my third burnout. That was the moment I realized this life was no longer an option for me.
Everything turned black.
And for the first time, I knew with certainty that continuing to live in a way that was not authentic was impossible.
That realization changed everything.
Many things I had always feared actually happened. I had to end my relationship. Friendships ended. I had to quit my job. Some relationships with family became strained. I stood alone.
When I say “had to,” I mean that I could no longer betray myself by remaining the same person.
Sometimes I still see people around me who are unhappy with their work, relationship, or other choices in life. When I ask them why they do not change anything, the answers sound familiar.
“I earn well.”
“Relationships are never perfect.”
“My whole life is here.”
But underneath those answers are usually deeper fears. Fear of being alone. Fear of financial insecurity. Fear of depression. Fear of hurting their children. Fear of the unknown.
I think it is true that many people first need to experience deep pain before they are able to change their lives.
Sometimes I wonder how life would be if you grew up differently. With a carefree childhood, emotionally mature parents, and encouragement to experiment, discover yourself, and take risks early in life. I cannot fully imagine what it feels like to move through life with that kind of ease. Then I think about what my life would look like now if that had been the case.
Other times, I feel strong instead. Because pain changed me.
Perhaps pain itself is not the source of wisdom. Maybe wisdom comes from what we do with pain. In that way, pain became a source of wisdom for me. Generally I am grateful for it in a strange way.
It forced me to question everything. It made me more resilient. It taught me that surviving is not the same as living. And although I still wish some lessons could have come more gently, I also know that I would not be who I am today without them.
How much pain do we need before we are willing to change?