Recently, my friend told me she thinks the “old Gemma” is coming back. 

“You feel very present right now,” she said, “I see your glow again.” 

We’ve been friends for almost five years. She’s seen me grow up and into the person I want to be. She knows me very well.

A significant relationship of mine ended in October of last year. We’d spent the entire summer living together and building our foundation. We loved each other very deeply, and sometimes, unhealthily. I wrapped myself in their life: I isolated myself from the closest people in my life, their friends were my friends, and it felt like it was just us against the world. This—upon reflection—is not a healthy mindset. I gave up a lot of what I wanted for what they wanted. My glow began to fade around then. 

Everyone has their own personal “glow”: your identity. Mine is something I cling to when I feel like parts of my life are uncontrollable. I list things I know about myself: things I enjoy, my intrinsic characteristics, and the people I know who support me. When in a relationship, it can be easy to cater so heavily to the other person’s needs that you forget your own. Sometimes you can feel your independent identity slipping away, but, in my case, it happened much more slowly and I didn’t notice how devoid of my own personality I’d become.

It’s worth noting that we also broke up in the midst of my post-graduate identity crisis. I had no idea what I wanted to pursue, was stuck in a job that I hated, and had just moved out of my childhood home. A lot about my identity was hanging in the balance. 

The next few months were some of the most difficult of my life; not just because of the breakup, but because I was forced to re-examine the parts of my identity that I wanted to carry into adulthood with me, and those I wanted to leave behind. I had to parse through my own behaviors and identify which were mine and which were borrowed. I had to learn to re-prioritize myself. 

The last few months, though, have felt different. I stopped isolating myself, I let my friends and family take care of me when I needed it, and I’ve pushed myself to fall back in love with my hobbies, my surroundings, and myself. I started writing for myself again, I picked my guitar back up, and I propelled myself forward. 

I’ve told you all of this, not to expose my complicated romantic experiences, but to remind you that this experience is exceedingly normal. When healing, our brains often trick us into thinking that we are the only people in the world feeling these feelings. It can be extremely alienating, and that couldn’t be less accurate. Whether they’ve gone through a breakup like me or they’re just trying to figure out how to pursue what they love, every single one of my friends is grappling with some question of their identity right now. 

It can feel scary to try and get your “glow” back. From one early-twenty-year-old trying to figure it out to another, here are some nuggets of wisdom I’ve picked up.     

Let yourself feel everything you need to feel, as soon as it needs to be felt.

The night of my break up, I remember laughing turning to crying, and back again. I thought that was only something that happened in movies to psychopaths. Turns out, I just needed to laugh and cry.  

It comes in waves. 

Some days you’ll feel like you can do absolutely anything, and others you might be glued to your bed. Ride the waves. Eventually, more of the days will be good than bad. 

Don’t shut anyone out. 

Let people who love you help you. 

You don’t have to figure it out right now.

Healing and growing are both processes. Give yourself time and don’t rush it. 

Now get out there and glow! 

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