Getting Lost
Getting lost isn’t always a detour – it’s the point. From wrong trains to wrong towns, from unexpected life shifts to living back where I swore I’d never be. The moments we didn’t plan can teach us more about who we are than any carefully laid out path ever could…
I think the times I’ve learned the most about myself have been the ones I didn’t plan for. The unexpected moments. The small detours. Sometimes it’s as simple as doing something alone when you normally do it with others, or taking a new road to a familiar place. There are millions of versions of us; one in the eyes of people who know us well, another in the places where we’re completely unknown. But you only meet those versions when you take a detour, when you change course, maybe even abruptly. That’s when you start to see who you are at the very center of it all.
Those little shifts in routine give your brain a chance to make new connections, think new thoughts, and create space for new ideas.
When we’re thrown into unfamiliar situations, we get to see our true character. Like the time I took a day trip to a small town in Spain, about two hours from where I was staying. I thought I had tickets for the last train back, only to realize I’d bought tickets for the following day, and the station couldn’t sell me a new one. In that moment, I could either panic or adapt. Traveling teaches you quickly that if you can’t control the outcome, you can at least control your reaction.
My cousin is a perfect example of the magic that can come from getting “lost.” Back in the spring, she planned a surf trip to Saladita, Mexico… or so she thought. Somewhere in the booking process, she accidentally reserved everything for Sayulita instead. She didn’t realize the mix up until she arrived and noticed things didn’t quite match the photos she’d been looking at. But instead of panicking or trying to “fix” it, she decided to roll with it. That trip ended up being one of the best things that ever happened to her: she met lifelong friends, stumbled into career opportunities that have completely changed her path, and fell in love with the town so much that she’s already been back twice. She found a community of like minded individuals living the kind of life she’d always dreamed of, and it all started with a “mistake.”
Sometimes “getting lost” is more literal: wandering off trail during a hike, or simply finding yourself in an unfamiliar place. In those moments, our minds break free from the usual patterns. We see things differently, feel things differently, and often think thoughts we wouldn’t have at home.
When I finished Cheryl Strayed’s Wild, the message that stuck with me was this: a lot of life is about being lost. Before hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, she was already “lost” in the emotional, spiritual, and energetic sense, caught up in things that didn’t fulfill her. She had no real backpacking experience, very little knowledge of what she was walking into, and yet she went anyway.
On the trail, she got lost plenty of times, geographically and otherwise. And in those moments, she found new parts of herself. The version who could stay calm after a possible mountain lion encounter. The version who kept moving through the hottest, driest stretch of the trail with almost no water. The version who just kept walking because there was nothing else to do but take the next step.
I think that’s the gift of being lost – it strips away all the mirrors, the titles, the possessions, and leaves you with the rawest version of yourself.
That’s a lesson I’m still living right now. I didn’t expect to be back living with a parent at this point in my life, without the “big girl” job I imagined I’d have. In some ways, I do feel lost. But this time has been more necessary than I realized. It’s given me space to reflect, to make peace with a place I once only wanted to escape, and to reconnect with my roots. One day, I know I’ll be grateful for it.
Some choices we make for ourselves, others are made for us. Right now, I have the space to change and grow, even if I don’t yet know where to start. I’ve wandered off the main path and I’m lingering at this overlook for a while before moving on.
It’s okay to be lost. It’s even okay to get lost on purpose.
Because every time you do, whether it’s in a foreign city, on a mountain trail, or in a chapter of life you didn’t plan for, you meet another version of yourself. The one who adapts. The one who perseveres. The one who proves that, in the end, you always find your way forward.
