At the age of 30, I found myself standing at a crossroads. Not because something had gone terribly wrong, but because everything I had worked for, everything I had once wanted, no longer felt like mine. I feel like I’ve lost myself.

Back in 2023, there wasn’t a sudden moment of collapse. No dramatic breakdown, no earth-shattering failure. Just an unsettling quiet—a realization that crept in slowly, like a shadow stretching across the life I had so carefully built.

Two years later in 2025, some turbulences started to happen and affected multiple domains in my life. Truth to be told, those affected me inside and out. My mental and physical health asks me to stop operating.

I don’t know which step to take. I don’t know who to believe. I completely lose my faith. The pressure, instead of carving me into a rare natural diamond, it rather makes me feel like I’m a stone that’s about to fall off the cliff. The unsettling quiet becomes louder that I could not hear anything but the white noise it produces.

For over a decade, I had built my career as a brand, marketing, and digital strategist. I help companies define their identities, craft their narratives, and position themselves for success and growth. I knew how to pivot brands, how to course-correct businesses that had lost their way to overcome reputation crisis. But when it came to my own life? I felt like I was clinging to an identity I had already outgrown.

The weight of outgrowing yourself

We talk a lot about outgrowing places, people, relationships—but what about outgrowing yourself?

What happens when the version of you that once felt so certain now feels distant? When the things that used to fuel you no longer spark anything at all? When the dreams you once chased now feel more like obligations than desires?

For the longest time, I told myself I should be grateful. That I should keep pushing. That reinvention wasn’t necessary, just a phase of restlessness that would pass. But here’s the thing. Gratitude and growth can exist at the same time.

Gratitude and growth can exist at the same time.

You can be grateful for who you were, for everything you’ve built, and still realize that it’s time to let go. That version of you served its purpose. It brought you here. But maybe it’s not the version that will take you where you need to go next.

Breaking up with an old identity

There’s something terrifying about walking away from a self you’ve spent years becoming. Because who are you without the titles, the expectations, the habits, the familiar routine?

For me, it meant stepping into the unknown without a blueprint—a strange feeling for someone who had spent years crafting strategies for others. But I knew one thing: if I didn’t rewrite my story, I’d be stuck inside a narrative that no longer fit.

And that’s what Altering Drafts is about.

My decision to alter this narrative will not be a reckless change, nor a short-term escapism. This is rather a strategic course-correction for my own narrative. It’s the kind that comes from deep self-awareness, conviction, and the courage to rewrite your own story—not because you have to, but because you choose to.

Is it okay to outgrow yourself?

Yes.

And it’s okay to grieve that version of you, too. But it’s also okay—more than okay—to let go, to step forward, and to give yourself permission to evolve.

Because the best narratives—whether in business or in life—aren’t written in just one draft. They evolve. They get refined. And the best ones? They’re the ones you dare to rewrite.

So let’s just be it. I decide to turn the page.