Fear of Losing Myself and a Deep Promise to Myself

Have you ever started a new relationship and gotten really excited, so wrapped up in the other person that you quickly became a “we”? The energy, the adventure, the dopamine rushing through your system felt so attractive, so addictive, so intoxicating… so all-consuming?

Until one day, you wake up and realize:
You lost yourself.

That’s kind of how my return to work has felt.

Let’s face it, work takes up a lot of time. For most of us, it’s 40+ hours a week. That’s a big chunk of life.

I work in an industry that serves adult learners. They are often older adults with full-time jobs and families. And somehow, they’ve found a way to go back to school. To grow. Expand. Learn. Improve their opportunities. For some, they’re the first in their family to do so.

One of the best parts of my job in marketing is getting to share their stories. And they’re not all sunshine and unicorns. These are stories of hardship, disability, homelessness, the death of a child, and yes, even misogyny. One student told us that a professor said they didn’t belong, simply because of their gender.

And yet, they rose. Through pain and resistance, they persevered with resilience, discipline, tears, and grit. And eventually, they earned their degree.

I’m in awe of them.

Partly because I’ve thought of going back to school myself. Years ago, I earned an 18-credit graduate certificate from Syracuse University. Halfway to a master’s degree! But those credits have long expired, and I remember thinking, Forget it. I’m not starting over.

But mostly, I’m in awe because they didn’t give up on themselves.

Even with a million other things demanding their time, they kept going. They held on to their dreams.

That’s the crux of my fear right now:
That in returning to work, I’m already losing myself.

During my six-week break, I started writing again. Blogging became a kind of lifeline. A personal processing space where I found my voice and accepted that vulnerability is my superpower. For the first time, I was writing without an agenda. Without a filter. It felt real. Raw. Unashamed.

And I didn’t just blog. I began writing my next book.

Well, “began” is a loose term. This book has been incubating for over ten years, waiting patiently while I birthed other projects. It’s about something I love deeply: cycling. And everything it’s taught me over the past 17 years, alongside childhood stories that still delight me.

Over those six weeks, it felt possible: working on the book and publishing a weekly blog.
Manageable.
Sustainable.
Alive.

But here I am, a few days back to work…
And the book is already back on the shelf.

That’s my fear in full bloom: that I’ll get so caught up in doing the work that I lose the work that matters most to me.

The part of me that heals.
That tells the truth through story.
That finds meaning in the mess.
The part that writes.

But I also know this: what I see in others, I can find in myself.
Persistence.
Resilience.
Determination.

So today, I’ll pull the book out and place it front and center: right on the dining room table, my current creative space. Even if it’s only 30 minutes a day… or 30 minutes a week… I’ll show up for it.

And I’ll keep a promise to myself:

To check in often.
To do what I love.
To keep showing up—for me, and in the world.
And to keep writing.

Thanks for listening.

©2025 Lori Ann King