Me & I

The Question of “Finding Oneself” When I was a little girl, I constantly heard about people "finding themselves." I listened to adult conversations attentively without them knowing I was eavesdropping. I was very observant and naturally paid close attention to detail; I still do now. More often than not, in many books, movies, and lessons, conversations about people finding themselves were present, and quite frankly, I didn't understand the concept at all. I asked adults what it meant, and they all gave me different answers, which only confused me further. I suspected they didn’t know what “finding oneself” meant, either. Still, they felt compelled to say something or act as if they did, simply because they were adults and “supposed to” know. Today, I'm sure that most of them probably didn't understand the concept either. They were just as clueless as I was. Some adults told me that you find yourself when you love yourself; that didn’t make any sense to me either. I couldn't grasp the idea of loving something that was not external to me, as I knew love to be hugs, kisses, weddings; I mean, how could I give that to myself? Hug myself? Kiss myself? Marry myself? That seemed ridiculous. I thought that when I found my prince, as the princesses in the fairy tales did, I would be whole as they were, or at least they portrayed them to be. Other adults said you had to go on retreats and trips to find yourself, and some said you had to wed or have kids to discover what was within you. Beyond these vague assumptions, what does it truly mean to find oneself? In my youth, my brain lacked the ability to understand this. How could you find yourself if you are yourself? Haven't you found yourself already? We are physically here, so what are we out to find? It seemed like a bizarre idea. Through all these different connotations and definitions from the adults and teachers in my life, I constructed an idea of what I thought it would be like to find myself. I imagined going to a place in the middle of nowhere, full of trees, flowers, and butterflies, almost ethereal. And in that paradise, there lay another me. I pictured myself going through an entire journey to find this "other" where she was hiding, and I had to find her. When I did, I woke her up and said, “Finally! I found you.” In my mind, we talked, bonded, and got to know each other. We ate, drank, and laughed, forming a close-knit relationship. I imagined that, at the end of this fruitful exchange, we would somehow merge and become one, and then we would continue our lives, maintaining that relationship. For me, it was about the physicality of it; I didn't know the meaning of ‘spiritually’ or ‘metaphorically’; I saw things literally. I now realise that my reasoning as a little girl, although quite inaccurate, was similar or rather, the essence of the meaning or experience in finding oneself, at least in my case. Me and My Mind After many lessons, books, heartbreak, and introspection, I've come to learn that I am two people. There is me, and there's my mind. We have a relationship and get along well, but it can get complicated at times, just like any other. Before I discovered this, the voice in my mind spoke harshly, often judging me. Finding oneself is the ability to separate yourself from your mind whilst remaining in it, with the ultimate goal of maintaining a healthy relationship. I know this all sounds confusing; it was for me, too, but it is simpler to think of it as that little girl did: you sit with yourself (your thoughts), listen, don't judge, and converse. A healthy relationship with your mind means your brain is in sync with the rest of your organs; your amygdala is silent. Your heart won't constantly engage in debate with your brain, your skin won't get rashes when you feel unheard, your chest won't feel as if it were about to explode when you don't express yourself, and your stomach won’t produce excessive acid, causing irritating reflux when nervous or stressed. Once you find yourself, you will love and accept everything about you; you'll see love in others as well. The key to "finding yourself" is not a place, a person, or a situation; it is the capacity to separate yourself from your thoughts and see them as if you were the neighbour, an outsider conversing with them, listening, and, most importantly, not judging. The Science of Awareness and Silence As I reflected on the connection between my mind, body, and emotions, I realised this isn't just metaphorical; there's fascinating science behind it. Our emotions start as physical sensations triggered by the brain, even before we're consciously aware of them. Understanding this process deepened my ability to listen to myself. The amygdala is a small but powerful structure within the brain’s limbic system, playing a crucial role in processing emotions, particularly fear and threat detection. It reacts instantly to our experiences, triggering bodily sensations through the hypothalamus, the brain’s control centre for regulating functions such as heart rate, temperature, and hormone release. Whether it’s a racing heart when we’re anxious or a deep sense of calm when we’re at peace, these signals arise before we’re even consciously aware of them. In fact, it takes 300 milliseconds for us to become aware of what we’re seeing, yet the body reacts 70 milliseconds earlier, anticipating our awareness. This is why every emotion is accompanied by a sensation; our body knows what the mind doesn’t. So, listen to your body and pay attention to these signals. It’s fascinating, really; quite beautiful. Before, neurologists thought the amygdala only 'made noise' in stressful situations and didn't respond to positive ones, but they have since discovered that it responds to positivity as well. This fact was hard to grasp and took longer to discover because, presented with a positive situation, the amygdala becomes silent and calm. Therefore, it does react, but it is just a silent reaction, and that, too, is a response. When I learned this, I put it into perspective; maybe I had to appreciate or notice silence more on a daily basis. Because within the silence, I believe we can pay attention to the small details, listen to our inner voice, and find clarity. Sometimes, silence can say what a million words can't, and that right there is priceless. This served as a reminder to appreciate the stillness, to listen to the subtle signals within, and to enjoy the silence. Just as the amygdala’s silent response reveals the brain’s intricate workings, the formation of habits highlights the mind’s remarkable adaptability and the brain’s plasticity. Among all organs, the brain possesses the greatest capacity for change. In scientific terms, we have Neuroplasticity, which means the brain can adapt and rewire itself as we learn and have new experiences. Knowledge emerges from neuronal circuits, which begin as weak connections when we first learn something. Through repetition, these circuits strengthen and become more enduring, a process known as _Neural Binding_. Knowledge is built through consistent practice, so we mustn't get frustrated with ourselves or give up in forming new habits, as these circuits take time to strengthen. Each circuit comprises millions of neurons, and every piece of knowledge we possess has its unique circuit. Thus, it is important to consider the neuronal circuit we create as we learn something new and to keep practising and revisiting it to reinforce it. If a particular neuronal circuit is not being used or is weak, the brain will eventually forget it. This is why knowledge can’t be taken for granted. Knowledge learned but not applied is wasted because the brain discards it without our consent. Our brain contains billions of neurons, so many that neurologists have compared their quantity to the number of stars in the universe, a truly fascinating thought. There is no limit to how much we can learn. In fact, the more we learn, the more efficient our brain becomes at forming new circuits and acquiring knowledge. In other words, learning strengthens our ability to learn. Learning about the brain's silence during positive emotions shifted my perspective on stillness in my life. I realised that silence isn't empty, it's full of meaning. This realisation mirrored my journey of finding myself: it wasn't about external noise or validation but rather about quieting my mind, listening, and creating a healthier relationship with myself. The Inner Conflict: Heart, Brain, and Gut Let me tell you about the worst dream, or rather nightmare, I've ever had. I was having dinner with my family when my dad asked me to get more ice. It was in a different room, and when I entered, another me appeared, as if she were waiting for me. I couldn't move; I was deeply frightened, and she just glared at me with an evil expression. She grabbed me and tackled me down to the floor, covered my mouth and said, "Shut up, don't say a word" in a deep voice. I tried to move, but she held me down. I tried to scream, but she covered my mouth. She then locked me in a supply closet and was set on pretending to be me. As the watcher of my dream, I could see her grabbing the ice and going back to my family and the real me crying in frustration in the closet. This impostor wiped that diabolical expression and put on a mask, smiling, taking over my whole identity and getting away with it. I now realise it symbolised a disconnect between my mind and my sense of self,  as if I were my own enemy. The harsh, judgmental voice in my head had become overpowering, silencing my true self. This dream reminded me of the importance of listening to my mind without letting it control me. Through therapy, reflection, and learning about the brain, I've come to see my mind as an ally, not an enemy. It's a relationship I've come to nurture with patience, compassion and understanding. Purpose and the Power of “Why” While understanding the mind-body connection was a significant step in my journey, another transformative concept came from Gonzalo Zubieta, a brilliant CEO and disruptive transformation expert. He developed a framework that explains how we oscillate between instinct, logic, and emotion, and how one of these is often dominant in our daily reactions. He described this as a reaction involving the brain, heart, or gut. Logical and practical people tend to think with their brains, emotional people process through their hearts, and instinctive, reactive individuals rely on their guts. While we all possess these three components and use them strategically, his theory proposes that one often takes the lead. By understanding which one dominates, we can become more self-aware and begin to control our minds rather than being controlled by them. He even devised a test to reveal each person's balance of these elements. When I took it, my results were evenly divided between heart and brain: 38% each, with gut at 24%. It was fascinating but also enlightening. With this knowledge, I could understand why I am the way I am and why I think the way I do. I am equally emotional and logical. This made sense because I often felt torn, as though my heart and brain were locked in a constant battle. They both wanted different things, and their voices were equally loud. In many situations, this fight left me feeling drained physically and emotionally. The heart takes time to catch up with what the brain already knows, the facts and the logic of things. The brain can even explain something to the heart with facts, but that is a foreign language to it. The heart needs time, introspection, and compassion to understand. However, with this insight, I shifted my perspective. Instead of seeing the conflict as a burden, I chose to view it as a virtue. Having an equal measure of heart and brain meant I could blend intellect and courage, practicality and kindness, logic, and love. It was a unique balance, and I began to embrace it as a strength. Logic and emotion may not always align, but their coexistence is inevitable. It became clear that it was up to me to decide whether they would coexist in an environment of toxicity, contradiction, and battle, or one of balance, understanding and love. Gonzalo also gave me what he likes to call "a gift", a piece of advice that truly changed my outlook on life. He emphasised the importance of purpose in my daily tasks and activities. He told me to always ask myself, "Why are you doing this? What is the purpose?" in everything I pursue. Without purpose, he explained, we operate on autopilot, following societal norms without really engaging or having a specific endpoint. We risk losing ourselves in the process. If you get in your car and don't set a specific destination, you will likely drive in circles, following traffic or the path already drawn by others. The same is true in life; without a specific destination, you will always be dependent on external factors. Purpose gives us direction and focus, transforming every action into a meaningful step toward a worthy goal. Through his insight, I realised that many things I did lacked intention; I did them because ‘everyone does it’ or because ‘it is what I’m supposed to do.’ This was the best gift anyone could ever give me, and now I try to find the ‘why’ in everything I do, following Sinek’s (2009) idea that we should ‘always start with the why.’ It is a practice that grounds me and helps me live with intention. This realisation has not only guided my decisions but also deepened my relationship with myself. This reminds me of Earl Nightingale’s definition of success in _The Strangest Secret_, where he states that ‘success is the progressive realisation of a worthy ideal’ (Nightingale, 1956). Redefining Love Ultimately, finding oneself is a feeling, or rather an affirmation of the relationship with oneself, a healthy one. It means listening more than speaking, and, most importantly, it means love. I now understand what it means to love oneself, as the adults had told me. Love is not like the fairy tales I saw as a kid; I didn't grasp real-life love because I had a different interpretation or definition of it than I do today. Love doesn't only mean kisses, hugs and white dresses as that quiet little girl thought. It is way deeper and more significant than those gestures; they barely scratch the surface of the loaded word we know as "love". Most people don't know how to define it. More often than not, they have different perceptions of it, which leads them to love themselves or others according to their definitions. These definitions can sometimes be incongruent with genuine love, such as thinking that love and abuse can coexist; they simply can't. We are comfortable with familiar behaviours and believe that what is familiar is “correct”, even if it is emotional or physical abuse. What is unfamiliar naturally scares us, even if it’s better than our current or past situations. Breaking this cycle starts with self-awareness. If we can recognise patterns in our behaviour and are willing to seek support to form healthy habits, 50% of the work is done. Throughout the years, my perception of love has changed and evolved. I recently stumbled upon an enlightening definition. Bell Hooks, in her book "All About Love", defines love as "The will to extend oneself for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth (Hooks,2000)." It was so simple, yet so true; of course, countless factors come with love, such as respect, affection, admiration, kindness, selflessness, as well as selfishness, but all that contributes and comes back to this definition, the true meaning. Whenever in doubt about love, we must ask ourselves: Is this nurturing my spiritual growth? If not, it is probably not love, or it is love as we have come to know it, a perception we may have internalised from what we saw and heard as children, or from what society has imprinted in our minds. It is not our fault; no one teaches us what love truly is, so we form our own definitions from our surroundings and from the experiences we have within our relationships. But Bell Hooks’ definition of love offers a different lens. When one begins to listen inwardly and to suspend constant self-judgment, relationships can arise from a place of genuine love, fulfilment, and wholeness, rather than from a place of lack, uncertainty, or desperation. Returning to the Little Girl If I were to meet myself as a little girl now, I would hug her tightly and make her feel safe. I would reassure her that I'll always be by her side, protecting her and never letting anyone patronise her or negotiate her worth. She would know she's not alone and that her feelings are valid. Today, I'm inspired by that girl. I think of her in every decision I make; I even keep a picture of her on the back of my phone. She reminds me of how far we've come, and I'm mesmerised by the realisation that all the questions she once had are questions I can now answer, at least most of them. That realisation fills me with a deep sense of fulfilment. I thank her, too, for unintentionally creating this beautiful analogy of finding oneself in her young and imaginative mind. If I could speak to her now, I'd say: "Never apologise for how deeply you feel or love. Don't let the world around you degrade your beliefs or make you question your thoughts. Speak your mind, always. People want to listen to you; your opinion is just as valid as your questions, and never settle for less than you deserve because you have the potential to achieve greatness and, from there, reach excellence. Within you, you carry the necessary tools to become the best version of yourself, for yourself and most importantly, never stop being unapologetically YOU." I like to believe that I'm still in the process of finding myself, or maybe I've found myself, but that entity is in constant change, as we can find ourselves more than once. Every day, I discover something new about myself, and I'm still learning who I am. My heart smiles with the acquired certainty that there are endless conversations and reflections ahead with _Me and I_, and I will continue to listen with love, support, and recognition, hugging each and every version of myself. That little girl deserves it, and so do I.