Was all I could ask myself as I put down the pen, finishing the last chapter of my book. I thought by getting to the end of it, I would know. But I didn’t. I was more unsure than ever before.

Surely, I thought, there would be a clear path forward. I would write my book, get it published, become a world-renowned author, travel the world, write more books, and so on. It was a good plan, I thought to myself. Until I realized that finishing a book is only part 1 of 100 in the process of becoming who I wanted to be.

And instead of being met with publishers chomping at the bit to read my story, it was just me, myself, and a box of tissues as I closed my laptop and ended a very important life project that no one knew anything about but me.

It’s been quite a journey to get my manuscript in front of agents who hardly respond to the hours of work you place into adjusting words and commas and dramatic intros, biting your nails as you send another one off with all your hopes and dreams just to be placed in a stack among thousands of amazing writers.

The journey has made it very clear that where I ultimately want to end up in life, is quite far away. And so I have questioned what I will do in the meantime, as I await my hopeful destiny.

Dear Everyone, is not a book about deciding what to do in life, but I often find myself in conversations with women who don’t know – including myself. Maybe we did at some point, but maybe something changed in our lives, or a dream lost its luster, or a roadblock interrupted our progress.

A lot of women my age, in their mid-twenties, spent several years and a lot of time and energy climbing the corporate rungs that lead to devastating disappointment and a complete lack of fulfillment, only to realize they’re trapped, unhappy, and completely out of touch with who they are.

When I turned 26, I suddenly had the urge to start a family – something I always saw as a part of my story, but not as a priority over my own corporate climbing, becoming a successful career-woman, making as much money as I could, looking skinny, having a great wardrobe, wearing a great title, and being known by everyone as someone who worked hard and “had it all.”

Then right before I turned 27, only six months into marriage, I got pregnant. And everything changed.

From a place deep within, I felt something I had never felt before – a rich, spiritual attachment to the idea of being a mother. It gave me instant meaning and purpose in a way nothing ever had.

Not without absolute chaos, though. Internally arose a massive conflict I have carried most of my life that I had not dealt with: how do I become the successful career woman I have wanted to be and be a mother?

Society, culture, my Catholic upbringing, the strong matriarchy in my family, comparison to others around me, my deep-seeded need to prove myself to everyone, specifically men – they were all motivators to prioritize creating value in the world before listening to my truth and what really made me feel fulfilled.

And right around the time I started to unpack and wrestle with this lifelong conflict, I woke up on my 27th birthday to the indescribable torture of the simultaneous death and birth of my first child at 10 weeks pregnant.

Everything I was wrestling only became amplified by this loss. And if the physical and emotional pain of this suffering was not already enough, it fumbled into a big, fat, horrible identity crisis.

It became a race, an obsession, to take back what’d I’d lost. My sole focus became: how do I get pregnant again? Instead of: what has this taught me? Who will I become on the other side of this tragedy? How do I move forward and live with this heartbreak?

And of course, in the face of something so traumatic, it is only human, the need to course correct. How could I have been so logical to sit back and consider what the experience taught me? Of course, I was not. I was irrational, depressed, utterly confused, crushed, and a most minimized version of who I am.

At that point, I was most grateful for the project of writing my book. Every moment I wanted to scrap it, start over, walk away from it, I was given the chance to write, express how I was feeling, and heal a broken piece of my soul, if even with just a bandaid.

And while writing through this experience, and so much more that surfaced and needed healing from my past helped me in ways nothing else could, I still did not walk away from my book knowing exactly who I was and what I want.

And frankly, that was not the point.

The point of the story was to get to my root, and go from there. I was so exhausted from trying to keep up with everyone else and my own manufactured perception that they had expectations of me – that performance meant so much more than fulfillment.

I was tired of feeling something deep within me that contradicted who I told myself I was going to be to the world and I was tired of doing nothing other than burying it down.

Every time I had felt the urge to be a mother, which by the way, was both physical and psychological, I pushed it far away with the harmful self-proclamation that “I will not sacrifice my money, career, status, and hard work that’s gotten me this far.”

And not until I lost the little soul inside of mine that lit a new flame to the meaning of my life, did I realize how wrong I was.

So, to be clear, my book doesn’t give the answers to these conflicts and questions, but it does make one thing certain: the only thing that matters about who you are is that you live in alignment with your truth, however contradictory, unlovable, and misunderstood that truth may seem to everyone else.

In this quest and challenge, I, myself, have wondered, “What will I do with my life if I really want to be aligned with my truth?”

To no surprise, my wise mother gave me the best advice on where to begin, which helped me re-anchor my focus on me. Not getting back what I’d lost, not looking for my value and purpose to be defined and recognized by those around me. On me, my heart, and my dreams.

You are the one who needs to understand your value. That’s it.

In my next blog post, I’ll outline this advice as an exercise you can do with me.

Let me leave you with this: why “have it all,” when we can have what we truly want?