How Adults Vanish From Their Own Lives
Career, caregiving, and “should's” slowly redraw the borders until we forget who we are.
I stand before the museum display, staring at a map of Europe from 1795. Where Poland should be, there's nothing. Just empty space divided between Russia, Prussia, and Austria. The placard reads: "For 123 years, Poland disappeared completely from the map."
My breath catches.
Not because of the historical tragedy, though that's profound enough, but because I'm looking at myself. At us. At what happens when we become adults and let ourselves be partitioned, piece by piece, until we vanish from our own lives.
The Slow Erasure
Dr. Kristin Neff's research on self-compassion reveals something startling: the majority of adults treat themselves with less kindness than they'd show a stranger. We become our own occupying forces, dividing our inner territory according to external demands rather than internal truth.
It starts innocuously. You land that first real job, and suddenly the Country of Career plants its flag in the center of your chest. "Work harder," it whispers. "Prove yourself. Stay late. Check emails on Sunday." Before you know it, this territory has claimed your evenings, your weekends, your dreams.
Then comes the Province of Others' Needs. You become the go-to person: for your aging parents, your struggling friend, your overwhelmed partner. Brené Brown calls this "over-giving" the exhausting pattern of pouring from an empty cup because stopping feels like betrayal. Your boundaries become occupied territory, and asking for help becomes an act of treason against who you think you should be.
Finally, the Empire of Societal Expectations completes the conquest. Success metrics that aren't yours become your constitution. The perfect house, the perfect relationship, the perfect balance, all perfect strangers to your actual values. Simon Sinek writes about how we often climb ladders leaning against the wrong wall, but what he doesn't say is how that ladder gradually erases the ground beneath our feet.
The Underground Resistance
But here's what the history books teach us about Poland, and what psychology teaches us about resilience: even when erased from every official map, something survives underground.
Polish culture didn't disappear during those 123 years. It lived in grandmother's lullabies, in secret schools, in kitchens where traditional recipes passed between hands like acts of rebellion. The language survived in whispers. The identity persisted in small, stubborn acts of remembrance.
For you, for me, for all of us who've been divided and conquered by adult responsibilities, there's always been an underground resistance. It shows up in those moments when you catch yourself humming a song that makes your soul feel homesick for a life you've never lived. It surfaces when you scroll past someone living their creative dream and feel that sharp pang of recognition, not jealousy, but remembrance.
The resistance lives in that recurring fantasy about the healing work you want to create, the body of work that wants to flow through you like a river returning to the sea. It whispers in 3 AM moments when you lie awake knowing there's something you're meant to offer the world, something that has nothing to do with your current job description.
Neuroscientist Dr. Dan Siegel calls this your "authentic self", the neural patterns and emotional landscapes that remain remarkably consistent throughout your life, even when buried under layers of adaptation and people-pleasing.
The Moment Everything Changes
For me, the map reappeared during what I can only call a moment of necessary collapse. I was drowning in the perceived busyness of life, the endless have to’s and must’s that felt like religious doctrine. I had become fluent in the language of perpetual motion, mistaking exhaustion for productivity and depletion for dedication.
The healing didn't come through force or strategy. It came through finally giving myself permission to stop. To unsubscribe from the relentless pace of external expectations. To do the forgiveness work that allowed me to reclaim territory I didn't even know I'd lost.
Dr. Gabor Maté teaches that healing happens when we create space for our authentic self to emerge, not through adding more to our lives, but through removing what doesn't belong. Like archaeologists carefully brushing away centuries of accumulated dirt to reveal the artifact beneath, healing requires us to gently remove the layers of others' expectations until we can see our original shape again.
The Territory of Permission
The moment I gave myself permission to follow that creative calling—to build something meaningful in the healing space—wasn't dramatic. It was quiet, like dawn breaking over familiar landscape. But it was revolutionary.
Research from the Harvard Study of Adult Development, spanning over 80 years, shows that people who maintain connection to their core values and authentic relationships live longer, healthier, more fulfilling lives. But here's what the research doesn't capture: the courage it takes to excavate those values from under decades of accumulated "should’s."
Making time for your authentic work isn't selfish, it's essential cartography. You're not abandoning your responsibilities; you're redrawing the map to include territory that was always yours. You're learning to inhabit your life instead of just surviving it.
The New Geography
Poland reappeared on the map in 1918, not as it was before, but transformed by its underground years. The culture that emerged was both ancient and entirely new, seasoned by struggle, deepened by exile, made more precious by its temporary erasure.
When you reclaim your authentic territory, you don't return to who you were at 22. You become who you were meant to be at this exact moment, carrying all the wisdom earned through your years of division. The career skills, the caregiving capacity, the resilience developed through meeting others' expectations—none of it was wasted. It all becomes integrated into the new geography of your authentic life.
Your healing work, your creative calling, your long-suppressed dreams, they haven't been waiting in some pristine state. They've been growing underground, fed by every experience, every moment of longing, every quiet act of resistance against a life that didn't quite fit.
Coming Home to Yourself
Standing before that 1795 map, I understand something profound: disappearing from your own life isn't permanent. It's not even unusual. It's part of the human experience of learning to live authentically in a world that profits from our disconnection.
The magic isn't in never losing yourself. The magic is in the moment you decide to come home, to unsubscribe from busyness, to prioritize healing, to give yourself permission to create the work only you can create.
Your territory is waiting. You know where to find the borders. You remember the language.
It's time to put yourself back on the map.
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References
Brown, Brené. Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead
Maté, Gabor. When the Body Says No: Understanding the Stress-Disease Connection
Neff, Kristin. Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself
Siegel, Dan. Mindsight: The New Science of Personal Transformation
Sinek, Simon. Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action
🖤 this is beautifully true and beautifully said—that piece that helps us remember ourselves when others try to erase us is our story. And this is exactly why knowing and owning our stories is such a powerful act of resistance against oppressive systems.
This is a remarkable piece of writing and I have read it three times now and I am still absorbing all of the wonderful information - thank you so much for writing this - I really needed to read this at this moment!