Season One-Episode Eleven: Sunrise Through the In-Between Self/Finding Myself Again

 Healing doesn’t always feel like a breakthrough, sometimes it feels like a sunrise.
 In this episode of Wonderland Rewritten, Kristen Elizabeth explores the quiet return to self, the in-between space of becoming, where nothing feels finished, but everything is changing.
A story of awareness, presence, and learning to trust who you’re becoming 

Transcript

Elizabeth 0:07

Have you ever woken up early enough to watch the sunrise before the world gets loud, before the noise begins? When everything is still, there's a quiet in that moment, a calm, like the world is taking a breath before it begins again. And then slowly the light starts to come in, not all at once, not overwhelming, just gently. Color begins to fill the sky soft at first, then brighter, warmer, alive. You hear the birds, the breeze moving through the air, and for a moment, everything feels new. Some healing doesn't feel like breakthrough. It feels like the sunrise. Slow, intentional, quietly beautiful. Welcome to Wonderland Rewritten. I'm Kristin Elizabeth, and this is where we take the stories we've lived, the ones that shaped us, stretched us, and sometimes broke us, and we learn how to live again after them. Because today's episode is about what it feels like to find yourself again. That's what it felt like for me. Not a moment of arrival. Not a sudden transformation, but a slow return. Like something inside me was waking up again after everything I had walked through. After the work, the unpacking, the rebuilding, I could feel it. Light. Not perfect, not finished, but real. And for the first time in a long time, I felt present, But I wanna be honest about something, because it didn't feel like this every day. There were mornings where the sun was rising and I didn't feel it at all. Where I was awake, but still heavy, still carrying something in my chest that I couldn't put down. Days where getting out of bed felt like a decision, not a routine where I would stand in the mirror and not recognize the woman looking back at me. Not because she was gone, but because she was buried under everything she had been through. And I remember thinking, how can something be over but still feel like it's living inside of me? Those were the days that it didn't look like healing, but they were, because even then I didn't give up on myself. but healing didn't feel like climbing out. It felt like walking through something like I wasn't escaping the rabbit hole anymore. I was moving deeper into Wonderland and like the moment for Alice in Wonderland, where she's sitting in front of the Caterpillar and he ask her, who are you? And she can't answer him. Not clearly, not confidently, because she's changed so many times. By that point, grown, shrunk, stretched, lost, that she doesn't even recognize herself anymore. And what's interesting is he's not just a caterpillar. He's a caterpillar who's about to become a butterfly. But in that moment, he's still in the in-between, not what he was and not yet what he's becoming. And I think that's why the question feels so heavy. Who. Are you, because sometimes you're being asked to define yourself in the middle of your transformation before the wings, before the clarity, before you recognize your own reflection again. And if you think about it, a caterpillar doesn't just turn into a butterfly, it goes into a cocoon and everything it once was literally breaks down. It becomes unrecognizable, undefined, a version of itself. That doesn't even make sense if you try to look at it too early. And I remember thinking that's what this felt like. Not like I was becoming something beautiful yet, but like everything I used to be was dissolving. And no one really talks about that part. The in-between, the part where you don't have wings yet, but you also can't go back to crawling the way you used to. You are just becoming, and I remember feeling that exact way, like I had spent so many years becoming who I needed to be to survive. Then when everything got quiet and I finally had space to breathe, I didn't know who I was underneath at all. Not the strong one, not the fixer, not the one holding everything together, just me and that question. Who are you? It's not a question you answer once. It's when you feel your way through and the difference wasn't loud, it didn't come with big changes. It came in small moments, laughing and actually feeling it, being in a room and not wanting to escape it, hearing music and letting it move through me again, the things that used to feel distant, started to feel close, and maybe you've experienced that when something shifts inside of you. And life doesn't look different, but it feels different. And in that space, my relationship felt different too. Not because everything had changed overnight, but because I had, there was a presence, again, connection. The ability to sit with each other, not just physically. But emotionally, it felt lighter, more honest, more intentional, not perfect, but real. But here's what I've learned. This place, this piece, it's something you have to choose every day because the old patterns, they don't disappear. They wait. They try to pull you back. And some days it feels like the same rabbit hole And there was a moment, I don't think I've ever said it out loud before, where I felt myself slipping back into old thoughts, old reactions, old ways of protecting myself. It would've been so easy to go back there because it was familiar, because it didn't require growth, just survival. And I remember pausing. Literally stopping where I was and thinking if I go back, I know exactly how this ends, but if I stay here, if I breathe through this, if I choose differently, even though it feels uncomfortable, maybe this is where everything changes. And that was the moment. Not loud, not dramatic, but powerful because for the first time I didn't choose what was easy. I chose what was healing. I. But now I recognize it. I know what it feels like to lose myself and what it feels like to come back. So instead of falling, I pause, I breathe and I choose differently. And this is where faith became something deeper for me. Not something I reached for when things were hard, but something I walk with every day in the quiet moments, in the decisions, in the awareness, knowing I'm not doing this alone and I don't have to carry everything anymore. And I think that's what this season is, not becoming someone new, but returning to who I've always been. With more understanding, more compassion, more grace for myself, because healing didn't make me perfect, it made me aware, And awareness didn't just happen in my mind. It happened in my body because even when life got quieter, my body didn't always believe it. There were moments where nothing was wrong and my chest would still tighten. My shoulders would rise, like I was bracing for something that wasn't even there. My heart would start racing and I'd catch myself thinking, why do I feel like this? When am I finally okay? And that used to scare me, but now I understand it differently. My body wasn't trying to hold me back. It was trying to protect me. It just hadn't learned yet that I was safe. So instead of fighting it, I started listening, breathing, letting it catch up to the life I was already stepping into. And. aware enough to finally answer the question, not all at once, not perfectly, but honestly, of who I am now. Maybe you're here right now, not at the beginning. Not in the breaking, but somewhere in between. Starting to feel something shift, starting to feel a little lighter. Maybe even asking yourself, who am I now? If you are, stay with it. Don't rush the answer, because that feeling, that quiet return. That's your sunrise. I used to feel like I was stuck deep in the rabbit hole trying to find my way out, but now I understand something different. I didn't need to escape wonderland. I needed to walk through it to feel it, to face it, to find myself inside of it, and maybe. This version of you isn't meant to have all the answers yet. Maybe you're still in the cocoon, still becoming, still in the quiet transformation no one else can see yet. But that doesn't mean nothing is happening. It means everything is And the thing about a butterfly is that it doesn't see itself transform. It doesn't watch the wings form. It doesn't understand the process while it's inside of it. It just stays in the dark, in the breaking down, in the becoming, trusting something is happening even when it can't see it yet. And maybe that's where you are right now, still in the cocoon, still in the quiet, still wondering if anything is really changing. But one day you won't question it anymore because you'll feel it in the way you breathe, in the way you respond, in the way you no longer go back to what once held you. And that's when you'll realize. The wings were forming the entire time. Because one day. You'll look back and realize you didn't just find yourself again. You grew into someone who could finally fly and now I can see the light and I'm walking toward it, not rushing, not forcing, just living. And for the first time, that feels like enough. Not because I've arrived, but because I trust who I'm becoming. Thank you for being here with me. If this episode met you somewhere peaceful, I hope you'll come back next time as we continue rewriting this story together. This is Wonderland Rewritten, and I'll see you next week. Okay.