Your New Life Will Cost You Your Old One

There’s a quote by Brianna Wiest that says:

“Your new life is going to cost you your old one.”

And that’s exactly what it did.

This isn’t a story about blowing up my life for no reason.

It’s a story about finally choosing my life—before I even knew what that meant.

The Life That Was Never Mine

Before everything changed, my life looked pretty ideal from the outside.

I had checked every box my religious upbringing told me to.

Married. A new baby. Good income. Community. Stability.

But inside?

I felt empty.

Like I was living someone else’s life in my own body.

There were dark thoughts. Deep shame. A sense that I’d reached the end of a map I never even drew.

I wasn’t allowed to ask for more.

Fun was rare.

Freedom was… unspoken.

I held identities I never chose: dutiful daughter, compliant wife, obedient believer.

Even the idea of joy felt suspect—like something reserved for people who didn’t take life (or God) seriously enough.

But I kept looking around and thinking:

There are people out there who feel things I’m not allowed to feel. What do they know that I don’t?

The Leap That Looked Like a Spiral

I wish I could say there was one clear moment where I said, “Enough.”

But in truth, it was messy. Uncomfortable. Gut-wrenching.

The truth that finally pushed everything over the edge?

I realized I wasn’t straight.

That I had never been given the space—or permission—to even explore my sexuality.

And I was in a marriage with someone who wasn’t attracted to me, didn’t enjoy intimacy, and whose beliefs mirrored the same control I’d grown up with.

That realization cracked something wide open.

I ended my marriage.

I got a therapist.

I told her, “I don’t want to do anything I’ll regret in five years… but I also want to explore everything I’ve never been allowed to.”

And so I did.

I said yes to every opportunity I’d once judged.

I made art—cocktails, conversations, movement.

I dated. I camped. I hiked. I stayed up late. I cried on the floor. I read everything I could.

I surrounded myself with people who saw in me what I couldn’t yet see in myself.

And yes—people thought I was crazy.

Because I thought I was crazy.

I told parts of my story almost hoping people would confirm it—that giving up an entire life for something unnamed was reckless.

But every time I considered going back, I knew: I couldn’t unsee who I had become.

I couldn’t put her back in the box.

The Moment Freedom Landed in My Body

There’s a day I’ll never forget.

I was standing in a parking lot in Nederland, Colorado, in front of a grocery store.

I didn’t even go inside.

I just stood there… and breathed.

And I realized: I can go wherever I want.

No one is going to stop me. No one is going to question me. No one is going to shame me.

It was so small.

And yet it brought me to tears.

Because I was finally living in my body—not theirs.

And it was allowed to want things.

That was the day I wrote down in my journal:

The first day I ever felt free.

What Freedom Feels Like Now

Back then, freedom looked like doing whatever I wanted—because I’d never been allowed to want anything.

Now, freedom feels like listening to my body.

Like choosing the path that nourishes me.

Like saying no to chaos and yes to slowness.

Like moving toward a future I’m actively building—not one someone else handed me.

Freedom, now, is a practice of self-love.

It’s not always exhilarating.

Sometimes it’s choosing the boring, beautiful, quiet thing.

Sometimes it’s leaving the party early.

Sometimes it’s resting instead of running.

But it’s always mine.

If You’re Standing on the Edge

If you’re reading this and you know you can’t stay where you are — but you don’t yet know where you’re going…

Take the leap.

It doesn’t have to be dramatic.

It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you.

Especially if you’ve never had time or space to figure out who you are—and you know this life isn’t it—leap.

Because on the other side of that grief, that guilt, that panic…

is you.

And she’s waiting.

You don’t have to know exactly where you’ll land.

You just have to stop betraying yourself to stay standing.