The Moment You Realize "Fine" Isn't Enough
I was standing in front of my refrigerator at 11:30 at night, door wide open, staring at the shelves.
Everyone else in the house was asleep. It was quiet for the first time all day. And there I was, bathed in that cold white light, looking for something.
The thing is, I wasn't hungry. I didn't want anything in that fridge. I didn't want cheese or leftover pasta or that container of whatever from three days ago. I was looking, but not for food.
And standing there, cold air on my face, hand on the door, it hit me.
I had no idea what I was actually looking for. Not just in the fridge. In any of it.
On paper, I was fine. I had a family that loved me. A relationship that had slipped into autopilot somewhere along the way. A home that, if I was being honest, didn't quite feel like mine anymore.
I was saying fine, but inside I was screaming: Can you get me out of this place?
I showed up every day. I delivered. When people asked "How are you?" I said "Good! Busy, but good!" so automatically it was like a reflex. I didn't even hear myself say it anymore.
But standing in that kitchen, staring into a refrigerator full of things I didn't want, I felt something I couldn't name. It wasn't sadness, exactly. It wasn't anger. It was more like... absence. Like I'd been slowly edited out of my own life and hadn't noticed until right then.
Wanting nothing. Looking for something. And having no idea what that something was.
Have you ever had that moment?
The one where you catch your reflection and think, Who is that? Or you realize you can't remember the last time someone asked what you wanted. Or you're in the middle of doing something you've done a thousand times before and suddenly think: I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.
That moment isn't weakness. It isn't ingratitude. And it definitely isn't a breakdown, even though it might feel like the early tremors of one.
It's an awakening.
Here's what I've learned, both from my own journey and from talking with women who've walked this path: that feeling of "fine isn't enough" is actually your truest self sending up a flare. It's the part of you that got buried under decades of caring for everyone else finally saying, Hey. Remember me?
We spend so many years becoming experts at anticipating what others need. We learn to read the room before we've even walked through the door. We adjust, accommodate, and pour out until pouring out becomes our default setting. And somewhere along the way, we stop asking ourselves the simplest question: What do I need?
Not because we're martyrs. Not because we're weak. But because the world told us that's what good women do. Good mothers. Good wives. Good employees. Good daughters.
"Fine" was the price of admission.
But here's the thing about "fine": it's a holding pattern, not a destination. You can circle the airport for a while, but eventually you have to land somewhere. And that moment when you realize "fine" isn't enough? That's you finally looking out the window and noticing you've been circling for years.
I call this the Awakening stage. It's the first of five stages I've mapped out on this journey of returning to yourself. And I want to be honest with you: it's not the most comfortable stage. In fact, it can feel deeply unsettling. Because once you see it, you can't unsee it. Once you feel that gap between who you've become and who you actually are, it's hard to go back to pretending the gap doesn't exist.
But here's what I want you to know: noticing the gap is not the problem. The gap was always there. You just finally gave yourself permission to acknowledge it.
And that, my friend, is the first step home.
I'm not going to tell you what to do next. Not yet. Right now, I just want you to sit with this. To let yourself feel whatever you're feeling without rushing to fix it or explain it away.
If "fine" hasn't been enough for a while now, that's okay. You're not broken. You're waking up.
And you're not alone.
Take the quiz to discover your stage.
The Returning Project
Returning to yourself. Together.
