How to Access and Reframe What You Want and Who You Are

I’ve written a lot about new beginnings, about starting over. Lately, I’ve been thinking about reframing that idea. I still believe that sometimes the new replaces the old—but more than that, what’s been on my mind is simply “newness” itself.

Over the past few years, I’ve learned so much about myself—how I see myself, others, and the world around me. I’ve grown gentler, more accepting of the way life unfolds. I’ve started trusting that things will be okay, that I am where I’m meant to be, doing what I’m supposed to be doing, with the people I’m meant to be with. I’ve come to understand that time isn’t just measured in seconds, minutes, days, or years—but in moments, memories, dreams, and lessons.

As I head into this summer, I find myself thinking about change—mostly because so much of it is happening around me. The snowbirds have flown north, and the rhythm of my surroundings has shifted. Summers here feel slower, softer. There’s a hum that rolls in with the humidity, and just as the air stills, I’ve noticed people do too. They pause, notice, reflect—things they might not have made time for in spring’s quickened pace.

I love summer here. I love the heat and the humidity. I love the excuse to travel, the looseness of schedules, the presence of my children. I miss the friends who’ve gone away for the season, but I look forward to hearing their stories—what they’ve learned and discovered in their time away.

Lately, I’ve let go of a lot—mostly of the illusion of control I thought I had. I’ve realized how little I can shape the actions or emotions of others. What “is” within my control is how I respond. So I’ve been working on that—on responding rather than reacting. For a long time, I believed I could make people happy, make them love me, make them change. I now know that I can’t. How others perceive me, how they feel about me—that’s not mine to manage. Most people are too absorbed in their own lives to worry much about anyone else.

For years, I searched for what I thought I needed in others—love, validation, success. Now I realize those things were always within me. I just hadn’t looked closely enough. The truth is, we “are” love—we’re made of it. We don't need to chase it; we just need to uncover it within ourselves.

That’s not to say I don’t want love, or connection—I do. But I’m no longer starving for it. I heard a metaphor once that changed me: “If junk food is delivered to your door and you're starving, you'll eat it. In fact, you'll eat just about anything. But if you're comfortably full, satiated, you'll be selective—you’ll only take what nourishes you.” 

That metaphor held up a mirror. I’ve taken in what wasn’t good for me—relationships, opportunities, habits—because I was running on empty. Now, whether I’m choosing what to eat or deciding who to let into my life, I ask: “Is this good for me? Am I choosing this because it’s right—or just because it’s here?”

I’m grateful. My life is full—of love, of friendships, of meaning. But I believe that fullness has come from this reframing: I’m no longer searching for love, success, or acceptance. I “am” those things. I’ve carried them within me all along.

And so do you. You are what is already within you. You are everything.