The Cage Was Never Locked

First loves, false selves, and finding your way back

I saw a quote the other day that said something like:

“Mid-life is when you finally do the things your sixteen-year-old self wanted—but stop apologizing for it.”

My first thought: Hell yes.

My second thought: But why do we forsake our first loves to begin with?

Why do we tell ourselves the dreams planted in us from birth aren’t meant for us?

How do we get ourselves into these pickles where we wake up one day and realize we’ve been performing a life that was never really ours?

Maybe because it was never just the voice in our heads.

It was the script we inherited.
The “rational” people.
The ones who “know better.”

But regardless of where the messages come from—or how we digest them—the wounds are real.

Is it possible to go through life and never be diverted off course? I suppose.

But that seems rare. And most everyone I talk to carries some version of this same ache. So maybe it’s human nature. Or maybe it’s just society, forever trying to cram us into boxes and lanes and compartments.

But that part really doesn’t matter. What matters more is figuring out how to come back to yourself, even if it takes decades.

It feels forbidden at first. Especially after years—or a lifetime—of telling yourself it wasn’t possible.

And then there are the things we convinced ourselves we loved instead. The consolation prizes… The career, the hobby, the prescribed life, the person you became while silencing yourself. Those can muddy the waters, too.

We told ourselves it was all good enough.

We told our souls to sit down and shut up.

Just fit into the boxes of what’s accepted and appropriate.
Be content. Be sensible and responsible.

Quit wanting so much.
Quit yearning.
Just be happy with good enough, like everyone else.

But good enough is a lie.

Good enough is a cage.

And a life should never be built on good enough.

So how do you break out?

First, you tell yourself the truth.

The forbidden truth you’ve been ignoring for decades.

You let it sink in. You let your soul marinate in it. Even when it makes your stomach quiver. Especially then.

Next, you ask: What if?

What if this thing—this dream, this yearning—is actually possible for me?

The first spark of hope catches. And then… just like clockwork… the fears come barreling in. Loud.

• That’s not realistic.

• “They” told me I can’t.

• It’s too late. I missed my chance.

• People like me don’t do things like that.

• I’m not young enough. Rich enough. Smart enough. Lucky enough.

The fear comes in waves. Dark and deep and relentless. And it feels like drowning…

…but only for a little while.

Because you can’t unfeel what you’ve felt. And once you know it, the cage can never be home again.

So you tell the fears to sit down and shut up, because they’ve already had their time.

And then, the smallest thought enters your mind:

What would it take?
To do it?
To bring the dream to life?

It’s a deliciously feral thought. A glimmer that promises to transform the hidden into the tangible.

The waves come again. But this time, they are different.

They are waves of possibility, not fear.

The world you thought was the only one suddenly seems small compared to the new frontier just outside the door of your cage.

So you begin to craft an escape plan.

Sometimes it’s buying something that signifies the new identity you’re stepping into.

A book.
A tool.
A piece of clothing.

Sometimes it’s investing in learning—taking lessons, enrolling in a course, finding a mentor.

The first step is tiny and invisible to everyone else.

But for you, it’s the most monumental leap. And it takes your breath away. So much so that you stand there for a while, wondering if you’re worthy of such an audacious thing.

But you can’t deny what you know now. So you reach for it anyway— the dream, the tool, the new name for yourself.

You pick it up. You feel it, touch it, and let it touch you back.

Another step down the road.

You read. You practice. You immerse. You become. Clumsily. Haltingly.

The doubts come…

This is ridiculous.
Who do I think I am?
What will “they” think?

But somehow the fears aren’t as formidable as they used to be. They’re easier to ignore these days.

Slowly—ever so slowly—your perception of yourself shifts.

What once felt borrowed starts to feel like your own skin. And one day you realize…

The cage you lived in for so long was unlocked this whole time.

And the people who told you that you couldn’t leave were just repeating the script they’d inherited from inside their own open cages. But they never had the courage to step outside and feel the green grass between their toes.

And you did.

And that’s the awakening.

And that’s when your real life begins. ❤️