the false dichotomy of identity, Part 2: living in the AND

Mar 19

Hi there.

If you’re here again, I’m so glad you’re in this with me.

In the middle of a very wintery winter—while continuing to navigate the loss of my husband and stepping into a new decade (hello 40)—I found myself face-to-face with identity in a way I never had before.

Not conceptually.
Not philosophically.

But in my body.

There were most definitely moments of ‘what the actual fuck’ is happening.

I was standing within identity shifts, major identity losses, and unraveling the meanings behind all of them. So I wrote about it. You can read it here if you’d like.

At the end of it, I said I’d follow up with the tangible side of this.

Like… how have I started picking up the pieces of a puzzle that reflects all of the versions I haven’t even met yet?

Well, as we begin to melt away the idea that we can only hold one identity at a time—that it has to be all or nothing—there’s something important to remember:

No matter how many identities we hold, or how strongly we hold on to them, they are fleeting.

And sometimes fleeting in ways we never would have chosen.

I didn’t choose to let go of certain identities—life chose that for me in ways I never could have prepared for.

And because of that…we’re asked to loosen our grip on them.

Not because they don’t matter.
Not because they aren’t real.

But because they will, without fail, shift…change…or disappear over time.

And when we hold them too tightly—when we define ourselves as them—we make those shifts feel like something is being taken from us, instead of something we are moving through.

No matter how many identities we hold, or how strongly we hold on to them, they are fleeting.

Mortality. And Love.

But…when life strips those identities away—whether slowly or all at once—and we’re no longer able to hold onto them the way we once did…what are we left with?

Our mortality.

And love.

Not the kind of love tied to roles or conditions—but something deeper. Something that exists underneath all of it.

Because there is always something bigger at play than just us and the identities we attach to.

And however you define that “something bigger” doesn’t really matter. It’s simply knowing that we are a piece of something larger than ourselves.

We just need to begin to feel safer existing as that piece alongside the bigness of life.

And we need to drop the attachment to everything we think we need…everything we think we should be….all the identities we think define us.

When we do, it all gets so much easier.

Because in the end, it isn’t about what identities you held.

It’s about how you held them.
And who you held them with.

So, as I step into the next iterations of myself—ones I know will be profoundly different because of the depth of soul-searching my husband’s loss has brought me into— I realize I need to walk purposefully.

Because if my brain, my body, and my identity are constantly being reshaped…I don’t want to just watch that happen.

I want to participate in it.

I want to have a say in who I walk alongside, how I show up, the experiences I have, and who I become.

For this reason, I started anchoring into a few things that helped me stay present and more fully participate in my blossoming identities.

“Because there is always something bigger at play than just us and the identities we attach to.”

Not rules. Just tangible anchors.

If you’re navigating any kind of loss—an identity, a person, or something you can’t quite name yet—I hope at least some of these meet you where you are and help guide you purposefully through your journey:

Talk to my body.

I know, it sounds weird. But hear me out. When I wake up, I ask my body how she feels.

I notice the kind of sleep I got. I pay attention to anything lingering—dreams, sensations, heaviness, ease.

And then I take a few breaths into the day ahead.

It’s not always a calm, peaceful moment—especially when I have a kiddo interrupting my train of thought.

But choosing this, even briefly, over immediately reaching for distraction…changes everything.

It brings me back into relationship with myself before the world gets a say.

Move my body and mind.

Every day I make space to move both my body and my mind in ways that feel good.

For my body, that might look like walking, working out, stretching, bouncing… or just listening to what it needs that day.

For my mind, it’s taking in something that expands me—reading, listening, learning, meditating, anything that widens my perspective even a little.

It’s less about discipline…and more about staying in motion. Because when I stop moving completely, that’s when I start to feel stuck in identities that no longer fit.

Align my energy.

Where I place my energy is how I create my reality.

So I pay attention to what I’m feeding—what I’m focusing on, what I’m engaging with, what I’m reinforcing.

And I choose, as often as I can, to put my energy toward what actually feels good. Not the bypass-y kind of good. The kind that feels grounding. Honest. Regulating.

Some days this is easier than others. But I’ve noticed that when I’m connected to my body and staying in motion…my energy naturally starts to align without me forcing it.

Practice unconditional happiness.

No, it doesn’t mean I’m happy all the time.

We’ve been taught that happiness comes after we get the thing we’re working for.
You’ll feel free once you have the money.
You’ll feel happy once you get the job.

But I’m starting to see it a little differently.

It’s not the “thing” that creates the feeling. It’s the feeling that shapes how we experience the thing.

The way I show up—my energy, my state, how I’m relating to my life—changes what I see, what I notice, and what I allow in.

This is about choosing to stay connected to a version of myself that hasn’t fully been reflected back to me yet.

For example—building a brand and a body of work rooted in love, curiosity, and depth…without full proof yet that I can do this at the level I envision.

And that’s hard.
Because what’s in front of me right now is often a reflection of what I’ve believed up until this point.

But instead of waiting for evidence… I’m learning to meet myself there first. To build the capacity to hold what I’m stepping into—emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

And trusting that as I do…what I experience around me will begin to shift to meet me there.

Continue to invest in myself.

Not just in ways that feel good in the moment—but in ways that actually move me forward.

Guided by a regulated nervous system and clear intention, I’ve learned to invest my time, energy, and money into things that expand me.

Things that support the version of me I’m stepping into.

This looks different than a little indulgent self-care (which I love too, btw).

This is more intentional. More directional. It’s choosing growth on purpose.

Surround myself with my people.

The right people. And not just in one category.

Lifelong friends, the ones who have seen every version of me and never wavered. Newer friends who entered my life exactly when I needed them to.

Family, who has held me through both the best and the hardest moments.

But also the people I choose to learn from. The voices I let influence me. The spaces I place myself in.

People who reflect the energy, the depth, and the direction I want to grow into.

Because who you surround yourself with…shapes who you become, whether you realize it or not.T

Which anchors resonate the most with you? Just know that they’re all available to you—whenever and however they fit into your life.

Not as added pressure, or another thing to check off your to-do list…but as small ways to stay connected to yourself as everything around you shifts.

Because at the end of all of this—through every identity, every change, every version of you that comes and goes—what you’re really doing…is learning how to be with yourself as you change.

To hold the joy and the grief.
The clarity and the confusion.
The version of you that feels familiar… and the one you’re still meeting.

To live in the AND.

To trust that even as identities come and go…you are still here.

Until next time — with all my love and soul,

Courtney

About the author

Hey there

I’m Courtney

I run Journey Through Bliss, a community I was inspired to create for high-capacity women who are ready to do things differently.

After walking through motherhood, profound personal loss and the unraveling of everything I thought I knew, I discovered that healing doesn’t happen through hustle or push—it happens in the pauses. That sacred, often uncomfortable space where we meet ourselves again.

I created this work because I needed it too. Not another thing to add to the list—but a way of being that integrates into real life.

In JTB, we focus on disrupting lifelong patterns by understanding and re-calibrating the nervous system, and on finding a clear, sustainable path through inner work and healing modalities that actually serve you in everyday life.

At the heart of my work is a simple but radical belief: we were all born with magic. We just forgot. And remembering is always worth it.

I’m here to help women do just that—individually, and together.