The Woman I’m Still Becoming

Reflections on identity, belonging, and why travel isn’t just about where you go—but who you become along the way.

There was a time I didn’t know who I was—only who I was supposed to be.

I went to eight different elementary schools before grade four.

I didn’t have roots. I didn’t have a roadmap.

It wasn’t that I lost my voice—I didn’t have one yet.

Raised in a volatile home and on my own by sixteen, I learned early how to survive, how to adapt, how to become who I needed to be in each new environment.

Eventually, I was taken in by a friend’s family—a warm, stable home that offered me something I’d never really had: safety.

I soaked it up. Their values, routines, even their preferences became mine.

Not because I was pretending, but because—for the first time—I felt like I belonged.

But here’s the deeper truth: I hadn’t just lost myself.

I never truly knew myself to begin with.

That unknowing followed me into adulthood.

I checked the boxes. I built the life. I made people proud.

But underneath it all, something essential was missing: me.

It wasn’t until I began to step away from everything familiar that I started to meet myself.

At first, through books. Through learning. Through long, quiet reflection.

And eventually, through travel.

Not the glossy kind.

The soul-stirring kind.

The kind of travel that strips you down and wakes you up.

The kind that cracks something open.

It was on a starlit night in Botswana.

On a quiet morning in a guesthouse in Nepal.

On a crowded street in Istanbul, where I realized I wasn’t lost—I was becoming.

Travel didn’t fix me.

But it helped me hear my voice again.

It gave me distance from the noise, the shoulds, the roles I had played.

And it brought me closer to something honest. Something whole.

As I changed, so did my relationships.

Some people couldn’t see the new version of me.

They held on to who I was when they met me, especially those who knew me when I was still just surviving.

Maybe you’ve felt that too.

Maybe you’ve outgrown friendships built on outdated roles.

Maybe you’ve felt unseen by someone who should know you best.

Maybe you’re still piecing it all together.

I am, too.

I’m still figuring it out.

Still discovering new layers of myself—especially now, in my 50s.

Like everything worth doing, this becoming is a work in progress.

A slow homecoming. A deep remembering. A quiet rise.

If you’ve been craving more than just a vacation—

if you’ve been longing to reconnect with yourself, to step outside the noise and into something meaningful—

This is your invitation.

Not to reinvent yourself…

but to return to yourself.

Because sometimes, it takes getting far from home to finally feel at home in your own skin.

In friendship, and adventure

Penny

xo