From Striving to Surviving: The Struggle of Creating a New Identity

I was that girl. The one who scored high marks, the one everyone thought was destined for success. I had big dreams, and I believed that if I just worked hard enough, I could achieve anything. But somewhere along the way, things didn’t turn out as I expected. Despite my best efforts, I found myself lost, with no clear purpose or direction.

I was told that good grades were the ticket to success. So, I focused all my energy on my studies, pushing myself to the limits. I neglected everything else—my physical health, my emotional well-being, even my relationships. I thought I had to keep striving, to keep being the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect person. But in the process, I lost sight of who I was.

I tried to do more. I joined clubs, participated in sports, and attended art festivals. But no matter how hard I tried, I was always average or below average in everything else except memorizing things. I spent hours and hours memorizing facts, but I wasn’t really living. I was only existing. I would sleep for just four hours, constantly anxious that I wasn’t good enough, always fearing the consequences of failing. One lower grade in a single subject would send me into tears, terrified of the inevitable scolding from my parents or teachers. I couldn’t even take a step without wondering if I was going to be judged.

There was a time when I was passionate about making a difference in the world. I believed deeply in reforming society, advocating for feminist ideals, and helping people. But despite my good intentions, I often felt misunderstood. People thought I was selfish, even though I was only trying to help. I couldn’t understand why my honesty, my desire to speak up, was met with mockery. I got punished for speaking the truth. My friends made fun of me for being "too much," for being "too loud," for being who I was.

I never became first in anything. I worked hard, but I always felt like there was something more to do, something more to prove. It was never enough. No matter how much I achieved, I wasn’t satisfied. I felt like a failure. I was anxious but somehow managed to laugh it off. People liked me for my smile, my complexion, my laugh, my appearance—except for my pot belly. People even nicknamed me the "evergreen pregnant lady." But no one really saw me for who I was. I was always too scared to get close to anyone, especially boys, because I feared being labeled a "bad girl." My parents pointed out every flaw, protected me too much, and never let me go anywhere alone. I longed for validation, for a hug, for someone to tell me that I was loved, that I was enough.

Above all, I longed for a place where I wouldn’t feel judged. My room became my sanctuary, the one space where I could escape from the world and just… study. But even there, I felt like something was missing.

And then, it all came crashing down. I worked hard for years, but when life threw more than one obstacle my way, I just… quit. The past seven years have been filled with searching for the perfect job, the perfect life, the perfect way to make sense of it all. But I couldn’t find it. I didn’t want to work in anything "less than my potential," yet I was terrified of being mocked for failing again. I stopped trying because I thought nothing would ever be good enough.

For a long time, studying was the only thing that gave me satisfaction. But now, nothing brings me joy. I feel purposeless. I know my values, my thoughts, my intentions are in the right place, but I feel like I have no right to speak because I haven’t "earned" anything. I feel like a dumb person. I’ve lost my sense of self, my belief that I can contribute to the world. My sense of employability has faded away.

Even though I’ve been to therapy, even though I’ve tried to heal, I still feel numb. But I don’t want to quit anymore. I don’t want to let this be my story. I want to find meaning again. I want to rediscover who I am, even if that means telling the stories of my failures. I want to look forward, not back, even if I have to walk through the hard parts. I don’t want to leave this world without making an impact, without knowing a day of happiness, without finding peace within myself. I want to create a new identity. I want to stop being a people-pleaser. I want to work on my values and make real change in my life.

But where do I even begin?

There are so many stories out there about success—about people who’ve found their calling, who’ve overcome adversity and come out on top. But where are the stories of people who tried everything and still failed? Where are the stories of those of us who’ve forgotten how to fight, who’ve been beaten down by life but refuse to stay down? Are failures not the biggest lessons? Are we not allowed to share those stories too?

I’ve lost my wit, my sarcasm, the very coping mechanisms that used to help me laugh through it all. But I’m still here. And maybe, just maybe, I can still turn things around.

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re in the same place—lost, uncertain, struggling to create a new identity—I want you to know you’re not alone. I see you. And I’m with you.

Let’s embrace the failures, the setbacks, and the mistakes, because they are part of our journey. Let’s work on finding our purpose again, step by step. And even if we haven’t figured it all out yet, we have the power to keep going.

This is not the end of my story. And it doesn’t have to be the end of yours either.

What’s Your Story?

If you’ve ever felt like a failure, like you’ve lost your way or forgotten how to fight, I’d love to hear from you. Share your thoughts or experiences in the comments below, and let’s start a conversation about the power of failure, resilience, and finding purpose.

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