finding my northstar at 28

inner-consciousness
Written By Nina B
(OR: "how I became a 28-year-old hermit and somehow made it sound philosophical")

Intimidating.

Writing.

Hello from my little corner of the world.

Welcome to my story.

why this, why now

I'm 28, single, no kids, unemployed, and living with my parents in a small town in Costa Rica that feels like the Shire from Lord of the Rings. A place of comfort, safety, and too much predictability. (Minus the hairy feet, though I can't speak for all of my neighbors. Yes Milton, I am talking to you.)

A year ago, at 4 AM during one of my nocturnal walking sessions, I found myself trapped in a thought loop that had been consuming me for weeks:

"I am nothing. I am lost. I have accomplished nothing."

I was pacing back and forth in my parents' living room, headphones on, music flowing, when the weight of my own mediocrity hit me like a freight train. Here I was, almost 28, living at home, with nothing to show for my existence except a string of jobs that meant nothing and relationships that went nowhere.

Something shifted that night. Instead of just drowning in the familiar spiral of self-pity, I grabbed pen and paper. My hand was actually shaking as I started writing down everything I wanted to change about my life. The list kept growing: financial independence, meaningful work, a relationship that didn't make me feel crazy, a sense of purpose that went beyond survival.

As I stared at that list, I had my first real insight: what I longed for was entirely possible, but I was nowhere near being the version of myself capable of achieving it.

That moment became the fault line between my old life and whatever this season is called.

In that moment of clarity, I made a decision: it was time to begin the most important romance of my life. The romance with myself and my own story.

(I'm aware of how that sounds. Bear with me.)

Before we continue, you should know something about me. I've had this peculiar ritual since childhood: putting on headphones and pacing back and forth while music plays, daydreaming so vividly it's almost like leaving this reality. I need this several times daily to function, as essential to me as breathing.

I recently discovered this resembles "walking meditation," which makes me feel less like a weirdo and more like someone who accidentally stumbled into an ancient practice through intuition. (Just let me have this small win over my lifelong "you're so strange" complex.) It's during these walking sessions that my clearest insights emerge, like my brain needs the movement to process what sitting still can't handle.

Maybe you have your own version of this. That weird thing you do that keeps you sane but you never tell anyone about? (If not, just nod along and pretend. I'm building rapport here.)

That's when I knew it was time to give this season of my life a proper name. Extended existential vacation? Professional sabbatical from being a person? I'm still workshopping it.

the unbecoming

I've always been spontaneous, impulsive, goofy, highly emotional, and not particularly rational. Over the years, I've developed my planning abilities, but they've never come naturally to me. Now, I wanted to intentionally cultivate these capacities without losing the creative spontaneity that makes me who I am.

This required asking myself the questions I'd avoided during my 20s:

What do I truly want?

What kind of income supports the life I envision?

What relationships nourish rather than deplete me?

What physical space would feel like home?

And most importantly, how many plants can I realistically keep alive at once?

(Current answer: apparently zero. RIP, plant collection.)

This questioning required space. Space required goodbye saying.

Why such dramatic changes? As Joe Dispenza explains, our brains are literally hardwired by our repeated thought patterns. The neurons that fire together, wire together. To create real change, I needed not just new thoughts but a complete reconditioning of my nervous system.

That meant cutting the escape routes I'd been using to avoid confronting my life.

Goodbye Instagram

Goodbye psychedelics, drugs and alcohol

Goodbye raves and music festivals that I used to escape reality

Goodbye cellphone and WhatsApp

Goodbye to the party friends who only knew the "fun" version of me

Goodbye to everything that wasn't serving my process

Goodbye old life, old me, it's time for a clean slate

Hello, full hermit life and healthy parasocial relationships with podcast hosts.

the privilege of questioning everything

When basic survival isn't your primary concern (thank you, Mom and Dad, for providing housing, food, and shelter for your almost 30-year-old baby), you gain this extraordinary opportunity: the freedom to question.

With this privilege of time and security, I've turned my attention to the fundamentals:

Why do I think this way?

Why do I believe these things?

What led me to this thought?

Why do I react like this and not like that?

Why did I think bangs were a good idea three separate times in my life?

Why did I drop out of school at 13 and spend years thinking I was stupid when maybe I just learned differently?

Why do I feel most like myself when I'm pacing around with music in my ears?

Have you ever stopped to ask yourself these questions? Most of us are too busy surviving to wonder where our thoughts come from. We inherit beliefs like hand-me-down clothes, never questioning if they actually fit us.

I'm in the process of deconstructing my identity while simultaneously designing a blueprint for a life that fills me with joy. This is the paradox: never more uncertain about who I am, yet never more clear about what matters.

the trap i was in

When I finally crawled out of my 4 AM breakdown, I did what any good Zillennial would do. I went looking for answers on YouTube, podcasts, and in books I'd been meaning to read.

(Zillennial, by the way, because I exist in that weird generational limbo. Too young to claim full Millennial existential angst as my birthright, too old to instinctively know which TikTok dance goes with which sound.)

Have you ever felt like you're constantly reaching for something that keeps moving away? Like you're chasing some imaginary version of yourself that's always just out of reach?

I realized I'd been building a Frankenstein monster version of myself, stitched together from everyone else's expectations. My family wanted me to be financially responsible after years of watching me drop out of school at 13 and drift through my twenties. My friends wanted me to be spontaneous, the party girl who could always be counted on for a good time. Men suggested I needed to be mysterious but available, successful but not intimidating.

No wonder I felt scattered. I was trying to be everything to everyone and ending up as nothing to myself.

You got that promotion? Great, now you need a bigger house.

You got the relationship? Cool, why aren't you married yet?

You got married? When are the kids coming?

Exhausting, right?

I found Martha Beck's work during one of my 3 AM research binges, and she gave me language for what I was experiencing. She calls these "social cages" and compares this trap to Dante's dark wood. We're all just wandering around lost because we've built these cages around ourselves.

Reading this, I had to ask myself: When was the last time I actually followed my inner compass instead of chasing external validation? When did I last make a decision because it felt deeply right, not because it would look good on social media or please someone else?

The answer was depressing. Also liberating.

I recognized myself playing all the social games on complete autopilot:

The career ladder game: I climbed my way up to regional marketing manager, managing campaigns across multiple markets. When people asked what I did, they'd nod approvingly. By Costa Rican standards, it was a "good paying job." But I felt completely disconnected from the work. I stayed because it looked impressive and paid well, not because it meant anything to me.

The approval seeking game: I bought expensive boots that gave me blisters but made me look like I had my life together. I went to networking events I hated, laughed at jokes that weren't funny, and said yes to social events that drained my soul, all because I thought that's what successful people did.

These reflections led me to ask constantly: What stupid little game am I playing right now? Who wrote these rules, and why am I following them?

finding my blue ocean

Once I understood the trap, I needed practical strategies for escape. I discovered some business thinking that actually made sense for personal transformation.

I found myself reading Tim Ferriss and Naval Ravikant, who says "You aren't free until you stop selling your time for money." Dan Koe, who distinguishes between creators who become slaves to algorithms and those who build systems that serve others.

The concept that shifted everything for me was creating your own category instead of fighting in crowded, competitive spaces.

Every job I've had was literally me selling my limited time on Earth for cash.

And not even that much cash.

the questions that keep me walking

So here's where I am: in the messy middle of becoming.

Rather than waiting until I've "figured it all out," I'm documenting the journey in real time.

So this is my "Tiny Experiment": writing to share my journey of questioning everything.

Maybe my perspective as a 28-year-old hermit who accidentally discovered walking meditation while deconstructing her entire life in a small Costa Rican town offers something different. Maybe this combination of business strategy and spiritual seeking, of practical income planning and existential questioning, creates something worth sharing.

The truth is, I don't know yet. But that's exactly why I'm writing.

In the words of Bella Baxter from "Poor Things":

"I am Bella Baxter. I am a flawed, experimenting person. I seek outings and adventures. Bella's so much to discover. And there is a world to enjoy, circumnavigate. It is the goal of all to improve, advance, progress, grow."

I commit to writing honestly. Sharing what I'm learning, what I'm questioning, and what I'm discovering along the way. I'd love for you to join me in this experiment of public becoming.

Nina B https://theharmonylabs.com
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