Who Are You Becoming? A Journey Through Grief, Growth, and Possibility

If you’re anything like me, 2020 didn’t just change your plans. It changed you.

One day, I was flying across continents, speaking to packed auditoriums about the future. 

Next, I was back on my mother’s farm in Magoebaskloof, helping her change the sheets on my bed — a bed I never expected to return to. 

And while the setting may sound peaceful, inside, I was unraveling. I didn’t know it then, but that unraveling would become my greatest teacher.

When the Doing Stops, the Becoming Begins

Before the pandemic, I had my path mapped out. I had momentum, vision, and what I thought was certainty. 

But when everything stopped — the work, the travel, the movement — I was left with a haunting question: Who am I without all this doing?

The answer didn’t come easily. First came the grief — personal, global, silent, and loud. 

The kind of grief that doesn’t wait for permission. It shows up in the stillness, in the silence, in the sleepless nights.

And then came the loneliness. Not the romanticized solitude we post about with candles and a good book — the real, raw, hollow kind that whispers, You’ve lost something. Maybe everything.

Sitting With the Beast

I used to speak about self-awareness. About growth. About transformation. But now, I was living it. The theories weren’t abstract anymore — they were personal. 

I had to sit with the emotions I’d spent decades outrunning. I had to let the beast of grief sit at the table. It wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t polished. But it was necessary.

Through this, I learned something sacred: feelings only pass once we’ve befriended them. If you try to ignore pain, it lingers. But if you sit with it, it transforms. It teaches. It reveals.

The Tyranny of Comfort

We love comfort, don’t we? We chase it in our routines, our relationships, our habits. But I’ve come to believe that comfort, unchecked, is a form of tyranny. It lulls us into stagnation. It keeps us from becoming.

So I chose discomfort — intentionally. I trained for an Ironman. Not to prove anything to anyone, but to remind myself that growth lives on the other side of pain. 

The early mornings, the aching muscles, the self-doubt — it mirrored the emotional terrain I was navigating. And it gave me something invaluable: agency.

When everything feels out of control, taking control of one thing can change everything.

Reclaiming Meaning

What 2020 took from us wasn’t just income or plans — it took away our framework for understanding the world. 

The stories we told ourselves about how things work, what success looks like, and who we are — they stopped working.

That loss of “lightness” shook me. But it also woke me up.

I realised that before the crisis, I was chasing validation rather than purpose. My days were filled with posts and plans, appearances and applause. But beneath it all, something was missing: stillness.

And without stillness, there is no reflection. Without reflection, there is no becoming.

A More Honest Self

This journey forced me to confront things I didn’t want to see — envy, pride, judgment, biases I didn’t even know I had. It was deeply humbling. 

But it was also freeing. Because once you see yourself clearly, you’re no longer hostage to the shadows.

This is what I want to share with you: You can’t become your future self without letting go of the version of you that’s clinging to the past.

We’re all carrying something — grief, disappointment, missed opportunities, old identities. But what if we could set it down?

 What if we could choose to see adversity not as punishment, but as preparation?

Becoming Is a Choice

I don’t know where this message finds you. Maybe you’re still in the thick of it. Maybe you’ve just come through the storm. 

Or maybe, you’re somewhere in between — rebuilding, reimagining, redefining.

Wherever you are, I invite you to ask the question that has guided me through this strange, beautiful, painful journey:

Who are you becoming?

Not who you were, not who others expect you to be — but who your soul is gently asking you to become.

The world has shifted. The old ways are dissolving. And in their place, something extraordinary is possible — if we’re willing to be brave enough to let go, sit still, feel deeply, and walk forward with intention.

This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.

Who do you become?