There’s something to be said about living for others. When you do for other people, it fulfills you in ways you never imagined. You feel a sense of gratitude and belonging to something bigger than yourself.

But then you can go overboard. It’s when you do so much for others that you lose sight of yourself.

You can’t pour from an empty cup. Right?

I lost my sense of self in a period of life when I was teaching, coaching, parenting, spousing, and volunteering. It was a never ending cycle of doing for others. While it should have been energizing me, it was too much. It was doing the opposite. It was sapping all of my energy.

I was trying to be everything to everyone, but I didn’t start with the most important person.

Me.

I took drastic measures. I walked away from my husband and two kids who were teenagers at the time. I didn’t see any other way to get back to myself. I moved out for nine months. I moved into an apartment that was fairly close, and I went to therapy (both with my husband and on my own).

I put a lot of my life into jeopardy with relationships to my husband, kids, family, and friends.

But I didn’t see any other way out. If I didn’t do this for myself, I felt like I was heading for a complete breakdown.

I don’t know that I’ve ever admitted that until now.

It was more than burnout. I was breaking down mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I was done, and the only way I could see to get back to myself to be better for me and for everyone else was to move out.

In the big picture, I’m glad I did it. I’m lucky, because my husband didn’t give up on me. He didn’t give up on us. For the most part, my kids didn’t seem irreparably harmed as we were in constant contact with visits, calls, and texts. However, I think there is some residual hurt from the nine months I wasn’t home.

Extended family eventually came back around. Most didn’t understand what I did or why I did it. They viewed it as incredibly selfish, and they were 100% correct. I had to be selfish in order to become the better version of myself that I am today.

Most friends at the time backed off and let me have my space. I didn’t really have anyone close that I could or wanted to confide in. And that was okay, because I needed to explore who I was and who I wanted to be. I’m still evolving, even after 15 years.

I think the most important piece in the process is that I have given myself grace. I reflect on whether or not I have regrets about leaving when I did, and I don’t. I know it was hard on a lot of people I love dearly, but I have no regrets about why I did it.

And while others might still hold some resentment for me doing it, I can’t control that narrative. I’ve moved beyond that point in my life.

At 56, I’m still working on the woman I want to be. The woman who is fulfilled, content, and loving is a work in progress, but I’ve made a lot of strides over the years.

But I can tell you this, without that crisis of identity I wouldn’t be who I am today.