Reinvention Stories

We all have that moment. The one where you look at the mirror—or maybe it’s closer to a half-reflective car window because this is life, not a rom-com—and think, Who am I, really? For me, it happened on a Tuesday, halfway through a bowl of gas station chili. But we’ll get back to that.

Reinvention doesn’t slap you across the face like a Hollywood montage. It sneaks up on you in moments of quiet unease: a grocery store trip where you accidentally buy oat milk but realize you prefer it, or mid-conversation when you’re explaining yourself to someone who just doesn’t get you. Reinvention is personal, messy, and sometimes downright weird. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned—from bad chili moments to major life pivots—it's that starting over is more art than science.

Let’s dive into the mess (and beauty) of turning a corner.

Section 1: Welcome to Rock Bottom, Population: You

No one reinvents themselves while life is running smoothly. Reinvention loves a good curveball: a breakup, a job loss, or a Wednesday that feels like 41 years. Mine? It was when I realized I was squatting in the ruins of a relationship I had no business being in. I’d let my edges soften, tamping down the parts of myself that didn’t quite fit with someone else’s expectations. One day, over that tragic bowl of chili, I wondered, When was the last time I felt like me?

Spoiler alert: If you can’t remember the last time you felt like yourself, you’re long overdue for a reinvention. Maybe you’ve been people-pleasing for so long you’ve forgotten what you even wanted. Or maybe life, with its endless bills and emails, rolled you so thin you became practically invisible. Either way, it’s time to defrost.

Section 2: Shed the Dead Weight

Before you figure out who you want to be, you have to untangle who you’re not. Think of it like cleaning out your closet: before you fill it up with the right stuff, you’ve got to ditch the college hoodie that smells faintly of tequila or the ill-advised purchase that never fit right (both literally and metaphorically).

Some things to let go of:
- Unrealistic expectations. You don’t need to go from lost to Lizzo-level confidence overnight. Reinvention takes time.
- Toxic relationships. Easier said than done, I know. But if someone’s draining your energy like a leaky gas tank, it’s time to hit the road.
- Who you thought you’d be. Maybe you grew up thinking you’d be married by 30 or running the world by 35. Guess what? You’re not stuck to that timeline. Burn the blueprint.

For me, this meant rewriting the mental script that said fulfillment looked like settling down in someone else’s dream. I thought I needed a 9-to-5 job in the city with white picket fences baked into the contract. Turns out, the San Juan Mountains held that fulfillment better than any corner office ever could.

Section 3: The Gold Rush for Your Soul

Once you’ve cleared the dead weight, it’s time to pan for gold. What lights you up? No, seriously—what makes you feel like you’re 12 years old again, catching fireflies in the field during a long summer dusk? Those are the nuggets worth chasing.

  • Try new things without judgment. I know, this advice sounds straight out of an Instagram post with a sunset in the background. But hear me out: one of my most grounding experiences after my ‘Chili Tuesday’ was taking solo camping trips into the Rockies. I’d grown up trail riding with my parents, but over the years, I’d let “life” push that part of me aside. Reconnecting with the outdoors helped me remember who I was beyond who I thought I should be. Maybe for you, it's pottery or salsa dancing or starting a band that’s 70% tambourine solos. Who cares? Explore.
  • Get comfortable with looking ridiculous. Reinvention usually involves cringe-worthy first attempts. My first mountain hike after years off the trail? I looked like a toddler learning to walk again. New beginnings can be awkward, but that just means you’re onto something.

Section 4: Filling Out the “New You” Recipe

Imagine reinvention like making chili—not the gas station variety, but something worth savoring. You’re the chef here, so you don’t need a recipe. You just need to honor your own quirks and strengths.

What worked for me?
- Humor: I decided if I couldn’t laugh about my cowboy boots full of metaphorical (and sometimes literal) mud, what was the point? Humor helped me navigate those awkward “fake-it-’til-you-make-it” moments.
- Storytelling: After years of writing for travel magazines, I refocused on fiction, something I’d secretly wanted to pursue. Letting myself change lanes creatively was one of the most gratifying moves I’ve ever made.
- Reflection: Staring at a mountain—not my phone—became my new self-therapy.

So, ask yourself: what’s your recipe? What ingredients have you hidden in the pantry for far too long? Pull them out, dust them off, and start stirring.

Section 5: The Slow Burn of Transformation

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: Reinvention isn’t a single lightning-bolt moment. It’s more like waiting for water to boil. You show up every day, make small changes, and eventually see steam. For me, it was accepting that mornings didn’t need to be dominated by email. I swapped it out for waking up with coffee and a dog-eared copy of Willa Cather’s “O Pioneers!”—a small but sweet improvement I actually looked forward to.

Give yourself room to fail AND room to rejoice over a single success. Did you pick up a paintbrush after ten years and turn out a portrait that looks more like a blobfish than a sunflower? Who cares? Blobfish are cool. Progress is progress.

Conclusion: No Blueprint, Just Bravery

No one hands you a set of instructions for reinventing yourself—and that’s kind of the magic of it. Every starting-over story is different, just like every sunrise over the San Juans I’ve watched since deciding to prioritize me. Reinvention is messy, funny, and totally worth it.

So here’s what I know for sure: If you’re feeling stuck or half-finished, it’s not the end of your story. Be brave enough to turn the page, take the risk, and walk in a new direction—even if you’ve got chili stains on your shirt. Keep showing up for yourself, little by little. Somewhere down the road, you’ll look back and laugh at the person who doubted it was possible.