From Here to Better

About a year ago, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like self-preservation. I created another Instagram account and used it as my main one, keeping the old one around only for memories. But here’s the thing—I didn’t add a lot of people to it. In fact, I didn’t even add my closest friends. My gal pals. The people who have been in my life for years, who have supported me, who have laughed with me, cried with me, celebrated with me.

I kept people at a distance. I shut them out. And I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

For the past year, I was quiet, I thought happy. I was closed off. I was distant—not because I didn’t love my friends, but because I was fearful. Fearful of being truly seen, of letting people know the real me, of allowing anyone too close. Maybe I thought keeping my circle smaller would make me feel safer, like I was in control of who had access to my life. But the truth? It didn’t make me feel better at all.

This past week, I had a moment of realization. A why did I do that? moment. I noticed that a majority of my closest friends weren’t even on my Instagram. And suddenly, it felt… wrong. Like I had built walls around myself and was just now realizing how much I had shut out.

So I stretched my wings. I added them back.

I know it sounds silly—it’s just Instagram, right? But it wasn’t about social media. It was about allowing people back into my life, into my space, into me. It was about realizing that I don’t have to do everything alone. That there is strength in numbers. Strength in people. Strength in your people.

And right now, more than ever, I need support. I need connection. I need to surround myself with people who uplift me, who remind me of who I am, who help me see the parts of myself that I sometimes overlook. Because this journey—this ride of self-discovery that I’m currently on—it’s terrifying at times. But it already feels so, so good.

The truth is, for a long time, I thought I was protecting myself. I thought keeping my circle small would make me feel safer. That if I limited the number of people who had access to me, I could somehow control the risk of being hurt, of feeling too much, of being too much. But looking back, I realize I wasn’t protecting myself—I was isolating myself.

I wasn’t pushing people away because I didn’t want connection. I craved connection. I valued my people. I just felt emotionally overwhelmed, burned out, unsure of how to balance being vulnerable with feeling safe. The fear of letting people see me, really see me, was greater than my desire to be close. And when that happens, you don’t just keep people out—you keep yourself trapped.

But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t want to keep shrinking myself in an attempt to feel safe. I don’t want to build walls so high that even the people who love me can’t get through.

So I’m opening up again. Slowly. Intentionally.

And you know what? It feels good.

I’ve found myself smiling more. Laughing more. Being even more inquisitive than I was just a few weeks ago. I’m researching, I’m breathing, I’m taking time for me. I’m doing things I actually enjoy—for me. And the biggest difference? My mind feels clear.

For so long, I was living for other people. Doing what I thought I should be doing. Overworking, keeping busy—constantly escaping so I didn’t have to focus on me. But now, I’m here. I’m present. And I’m choosing to live differently.

The Lessons I’m Taking from This

1. Keeping people at a distance doesn’t actually protect you. It just makes you lonelier. We’re not meant to do life alone. Letting people in, allowing yourself to be seen—it’s scary, but it’s also freeing.
2. Escaping isn’t the same as healing. I used to think if I just stayed busy enough, I wouldn’t have to deal with the things that hurt. But now I see that real healing comes from facing things, not running from them.
3. Happiness isn’t something you stumble into—it’s something you build. And right now? I’m building it. With every small decision to prioritize myself, with every step toward openness, with every moment of laughter and connection, I can feel the shift. I can see the growth.

And I think that’s the most beautiful part.