October 18, 2026

It’s easy to disappear behind, “that’s just who I am,” or "that's just how I was raised.” Yet to become all that we have the potential to become, we need to put those thoughts aside and allow ourselves to wonder just who we really are, and then find the strength to get there.

Some women become legends because they refuse to disappear. This is easy to say, to give advice about and to watch. It is not easy to do. 

When I was released into the wild at the ripe age of 18, I felt free, completely lost, and convinced I had nothing to offer the world. I was willing to do whatever it took to survive, as long as I never had to return to where I came from. I took off my clothes for money, took too many drugs trying to fill my need for a warm hug and lied to get men to stay. I chased whatever felt good, slowly destroying my mind and body, unaware that I already had every ingredient I needed to thrive.

Like me, Tina Turner endured so much before choosing a different direction. For years, the world knew her as part of a musical partnership that came at an enormous personal cost. In 1976, she walked away from Ike Turner with little more than her name, determined to build a life of her own. She faced financial struggles, uncertainty, and the daunting task of starting over when the world had already decided who she was.

But she refused to let her past have the final word. She rebuilt her career, reclaimed her identity, and went on to achieve some of her greatest success later in life. Her story is not simply one of survival, but of reclaiming herself. She believed a truer, more beautiful life was possible—and kept going until she found it.

I’m learning that walking away isn’t a one-time act. It’s a lifelong process. We shed our layers like an onion, slowly discovering the parts of ourselves we buried, abandoned, or never had the chance to know. We can lose ourselves little by little, and finding our way home takes patience, effort, and grit.

Becoming is waking up to the realization that surviving and living are not the same thing. We begin to see the places where we have settled, the ways we have made ourselves smaller, and the stories we have mistaken for the truth about who we are. And then, if we are willing, we begin again. Sometimes with great leaps, sometimes with the smallest, most uncertain steps, but always with the possibility of moving closer to ourselves.

I imagine Tina had moments when the road ahead was anything but clear. Starting over doesn't come with guarantees. There is no promise that the next chapter will be easier, that we won't grieve what we leave behind, or that we won't sometimes question our own decisions. It takes a particular kind of courage to choose the unknown over a familiar life that no longer allows you to grow.

And perhaps that is what I admire most about her. Not just her extraordinary voice, her unmistakable presence, or the music that made her a legend, but her willingness to keep becoming. She didn't allow the years behind her to determine what was still possible ahead of her.

I'm trying to learn that, too.