Transitions are never easy, and when they demand you to face yourself without distractions, they can feel unbearable. For years, I’ve run to careers and relationships to fill the void, to numb the pain, to escape the emptiness. But now, in this period of transition, everything I’ve used to avoid my feelings has been stripped away. There’s no career ladder to climb, no relationship to fixate on—only me, sitting with the rawness of my emotions.

This isn’t just emotional pain—it’s physical. I feel it in my jaw, in my head, as if the weight of my inner turmoil has taken up residence in my body. It’s a manifestation of stress I can’t outrun. The usual distractions—baking, scrolling through social media, planning new projects—offer temporary relief, but they don’t heal. Instead, I’ve noticed an intense desire to escape into things I’ve never craved before, like shopping sprees or even alcohol, despite being a teetotaler. It’s the same pattern: run from the pain. But this time, I know running isn’t the answer.

The truth I’m confronting is simple but profound: nothing external can give me the lasting happiness I seek. Not a career, not a relationship, not even the most enjoyable hobby. They may offer fleeting joy, but they can’t fill the deeper longing for peace and fulfillment. That comes only from within.

So here I am, sitting in the pain, breathing through it, asking God to guide me. It’s not easy. The pain is dark and overwhelming, but it’s also teaching me something invaluable—that I have to nurture myself through it, not punish myself for feeling it. This process is helping me unearth my authentic self—the part of me that doesn’t need external validation but thrives in creativity and stillness.

Interestingly, this transition has awakened a new sense of creativity. I’ve found solace in baking and interior decorating—two passions I had overlooked in the past. These activities connect me to something deeper, something joyful and purposeful. I believe these passions are leading me toward a new chapter, perhaps a career that is truly aligned with who I am becoming. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I feel that by honoring my creativity and listening to my soul, the path will reveal itself.

This transition is painful, but I trust it’s necessary. By sitting with the emptiness, I’m learning to be kinder to myself. I’m learning not to escape but to transform. And in doing so, I’m finding a deeper connection to myself and the life I’m meant to live.

For anyone walking a similar path, know this: the pain won’t last forever. If you sit with it, if you allow yourself to feel it fully, it will teach you who you truly are. And from that authenticity, something beautiful will emerge.