when peace feels wrong: journeying through identity transformation

For as long as I can remember, it felt like I was happening to life. But something shifted about three to five years ago—it now feels like life is happening to me, and I can’t seem to get a grip on anything. Sometimes, it’s as if I’ve been thrown out of a moving plane without a parachute, or I’m treading water, barely able to come up for air. Other times, I find myself swept along in a crowd, unable to see where I’m going or feel the ground beneath my feet. Has anyone else experienced this?

My loved ones often urge me to relax—spread out my arms like a seasoned skydiver, go with the flow like a swimmer, or trust where the crowd is moving instead of resisting everything. But I’ve always identified as a warrior. Whatever the “challenge”—school, work, relationships—I gave it my all and then some. Staying still and letting go feels completely alien to me.

Occasionally, I’ve tried to follow their advice and be still, but my inner warrior won’t allow it. Whenever I try, it’s as though I hear Leonidas shouting, “Spartans, what is your profession?” and I’m compelled to start fighting again. This has led to more than a few rounds of burnout. During each recovery, I ask myself, “What am I really chasing? Or what’s chasing me?” I haven’t found a clear answer.

Last week, my sister Atty Kugo sent me a TikTok video with a quote that caught my attention: “In times of peace, the warlike man attacks himself.” The speaker explained how people who thrive on struggle and overcoming obstacles often turn that energy inward when life becomes calm, battling themselves with self-criticism and doubt. Many aren’t even aware of it because they’re so used to the noise around them. Looking into it further, I learned this can appear as relentless self-criticism, questioning one’s abilities, or wrestling internally with perceived limitations. That realization hit me hard.

The speaker went on to say: “This is a metaphor for purpose and identity in transition. Suddenly, peace feels almost unfair—wrong, even—for someone used to striving.” I kept replaying the video, and for the first time, my questions began to find form. My loved ones’ advice started to make sense. No one warned me that transitions such as motherhood could lead to an identity or purpose crisis. While I’m relieved this season is starting to make a bit more sense, I also feel some frustration that I had to stumble into this understanding through struggle.

I don’t have everything figured out now, but I am, at least, aware. Perhaps, we have glorified hustle culture so much so that we have forgotten to moderate it with rest and calm. It also feels like, as modern women, we have been equipped to keep moving no matter what, but we were not told that certain choices, like motherhood, come with slower seasons in life. In fact, unemployment comes with broken life rhythms, becoming an empty nester comes with very loud "silence", a change in responsibilities comes with questioning abilities, so does achieving certain life goals. As we transition, we hold onto that we have known to be true yet it is no longer adequate. As the speaker added, “When that for which you fought for finally happens, you have to contend for transformation. The mindset that got you here isn’t the one that’ll help you stay or go further. You need a new operating system.” Now, my task is to accept and adapt. I must acknowledge that I’ve undergone numerous changes at once, and I’m no longer the same person I was. I need to adapt as I evolve—because the skills that brought me here won’t necessarily carry me forward. Holding on too tightly to old ways might even sabotage the very person I am now.

Looking back, my greatest breakthroughs have come during moments when I let myself simply be—without expectation or assumption. Though I’ve tried to re-create that stillness, it’s not always easy. Loved ones sometimes remind me that maybe I’m “drowning in a bathtub.” There have been moments, though, when I realized the parachute was there all along, or I found the bottom of the pool—or even felt the ground in the crowd. But I’ve often resisted truly being present, trapped between the past and the future instead.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that living in the present might be the antidote to the struggle in between transitions. As I welcome a new year, I hope the three As—Awareness, Acceptance, Adaptation—will guide me from a constant battle stance toward something calmer and truer to who I’m becoming. This is one part of adulting no one can explain until you’ve gone through it yourself. Maybe we all experience these cycles of transition as change is one of life’s few constants.

I hope this reflection sheds some light on the heavy topic of identity transformation. Have you been through transitions that left you feeling lost or drowning? How did you overcome them and rebuild your sense of self? Share your story so we can learn together.