Why “I’m Okay” Was the Biggest Lie I Told Myself

I bet you’ve forgotten lockdown by now. For me, it’s a time I’ll never shake off.

The first few months were brutal. No office. No routine. No distractions. Just me, my thoughts, and the uncomfortable truth that I couldn’t escape my own company.

One afternoon, after a frustrating call with my father, I was ranting to a friend when she mentioned therapy. I laughed it off at first. Therapy wasn’t something I had grown up considering. But I tried it. And boy — what a ride it has been since that very first session.

When Everything Fell Apart

Everything I thought I knew, everything I had held onto with so much rigidity, began to crumble. I was raised to follow a certain path, to achieve certain milestones, to be “a certain someone.” Suddenly, every part of that identity was being questioned.

And I realised something terrifying: I didn’t know who I was.

The voices in my head weren’t mine — they belonged to parents, teachers, guardians, church leaders, even friends. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my own voice. And I was scared because I couldn’t even remember what it sounded like.

Learning to Feel

Like I wrote before, journaling had always been part of my life. But it was shallow — just a way to dump the events of the day. Never about feelings.

So when my therapist suggested I journal about how I felt, I froze. Feelings? I had been running from them for as long as I could remember.

But one night, I gave it a try. After my usual daily rant on paper, I wrote a question: How did you feel today?

I sat with that question for over an hour. The only answer that came was: I’m okay. But was I?

That simple question cracked something open. From there, I started asking where I felt emotions in my body, why I felt them, and — the hardest of all — whose voice those feelings actually belonged to.

Shedding Borrowed Identities

The deeper I went, the more I saw the patterns. Memories of being dismissed or shamed when I expressed my feelings. Conversations with friends who had lived the same thing. A culture that didn’t nurture mentoring but often demanded molding.

I saw how much of “me” wasn’t actually mine at all. My devotion to church. My endless striving to be perfect. My pursuit of paths others laid for me. Piece by piece, those borrowed identities began to fall away.

And it was frightening. Suddenly I had to ask: What do I truly like? Do I enjoy solitude? Am I a people person? The answers didn’t come quickly. But even in the fear, I was discovering freedom.

Becoming Myself

Over time, I realised something important: living under other people’s expectations will never bring peace.

For years, perfectionism nearly silenced me on this very blog. I had the topics, the words, the passion — but fear of “what will people think?” kept me from pressing publish.

Not anymore. I’ve learned I’m not for everyone, and that’s okay. I refuse to shrink myself into “ladylike” boxes. I embrace every part of me now — the good, the messy, the bold, the audacious.

Some relationships fell away. Others grew stronger. And through it all, I discovered a new purpose: to mentor differently. Not to create clones of myself, but to hold space for others to find their voice.

Ready to Fly

This year marks almost five years since I pressed “publish” on my first blog post. To celebrate, I’m putting out a free ebook — a thank you to everyone who has walked this journey with me, and proof of how much growth is possible when you dare to meet yourself.

Like a butterfly, my wings have formed. I’m ready to fly.

So here’s my invitation to you: grab a pen, your phone, or your laptop and ask yourself one question — How am I really feeling today?

Don’t rush the answer. Don’t sugarcoat it. Sit with it, even if it’s messy. Because in that honesty lies the beginning of discovering who you truly are.

And if you feel brave, share your discoveries with me. I’d love to hear what you uncover. Because when we speak our truths, we remind each other that change is possible.