There comes a time when you no longer chase the life they told you to live. You slow down. You unlearn. You remember. This is for the wanderers, the almost-broken, the quietly brave. You are not lost—you are returning. Returning to a self untouched by performance, unashamed of softness, and unafraid to walk alone. Begin again.
First Published on 04/07/2008 22:55
🌿 Why do most people feel “lost” in their 20s and 30s?
There’s a certain ache I’ve seen on the faces of those who should be celebrating—young, educated, even successful—but something inside them feels hollow. As if they’re walking someone else’s journey. As if their life, despite all its polish, doesn’t quite fit.
This is the epidemic no one warns us about: the emotional confusion of the 20s and 30s.
We are told these are supposed to be “the best years of your life.” But what happens when they feel like an endless loop of overthinking, performative ambition, and spiritual emptiness?
I’ve worked with young adults who crumble not because they failed—but because they succeeded at something they never truly chose. Society handed them a checklist, and they obediently ticked each box. College. Job. Relationship. Salary. Car. Social media presence. But at the end of all that? A deafening silence. A question that refuses to go away: “Is this really it?”
No, it isn’t.
This ache, this disconnection, is not a breakdown. It’s a breakthrough. A sacred unrest. A man walking away from the noise of performance toward the sound of his soul.
This phenomenon is universal. A 2024 Pew Research study revealed that over 68% of young adults globally feel emotionally disoriented or “not where they should be.” But that’s just the surface. Beneath that lies a much deeper spiritual question: Who am I when I’m not trying to impress anyone?
One young woman I counselled, let’s call her Riya, told me, “I’ve done everything right, but I feel like I’m living someone else’s destiny.” That sentence pierced something in me. She didn’t need better time management. She needed soul remembrance. She needed to remember the version of herself that once danced without judgment, wrote stories that made no sense, and asked questions no one had answers for.
We all start there. But somewhere between expectations and adulting, we forget. Not because we’re weak, but because the world never made room for our full selves.
So if you’re lost? Maybe, just maybe, you’re on the most sacred path of all—the one back to yourself.
💼 How does society’s pressure to “figure it all out” clash with soul evolution?
Here’s the violence we never name: societal timelines.
We are told to “figure life out” by our mid-20s. Be settled. Be stable. Be successful. The pressure starts early. Career clarity by 16. Financial independence by 25. Marriage by 30. And happiness? Optional.
What no one tells you is that these are borrowed benchmarks. They don’t consider your soul’s timing—only your resume’s.
But real identity, real purpose, doesn’t obey clocks. It follows cycles. And often, those cycles are messy, nonlinear, and profoundly human.
Especially in Indian families, the pressure can be suffocating. Ancestral voices echo in every decision: “Settle down.” “What will people say?” “Be something.” But when you pursue “something” just to silence “everyone,” you end up losing someone—yourself.
I’ve met hundreds of young adults who confuse productivity with purpose. Who overwork not out of passion, but out of fear. Fear of stillness. Fear of seeming like they don’t have it all figured out.
But here's what I’ve come to understand: Clarity isn’t a checklist. It’s a remembering.
There’s a powerful story I wrote about a woman’s quiet resistance in the face of harassment and shame—read it here. Her stillness was not weakness. It was wisdom. Sometimes, resisting the rush is the most radical act of reclaiming identity.
When I see a man walking—quietly, with intention—it reminds me that we are not meant to sprint toward someone else’s timeline. We are meant to walk toward what resonates. No matter how long it takes.
If you feel out of sync with what “should” be happening, it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re evolving. At the pace of your own soul. And that? That’s the only rhythm worth trusting.
✨ What are the signs you’re in an identity awakening?
You know something’s shifting—but you can’t quite name it.
You’re not unhappy, but not content either. You’ve got everything you once prayed for—but now it feels like clutter. Your relationships, your career, even your dreams—none of it feels as alive as it used to.
Welcome to the sacred storm known as identity awakening.
Here’s how it usually begins:
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You start withdrawing. From friends, routines, social media. Not out of depression, but because the noise no longer makes sense.
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You feel an unnameable sadness. As if mourning a life that never truly belonged to you.
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You question everything. Your goals. Your childhood beliefs. Even your name feels distant.
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You feel called to something deeper. Spirituality, nature, rituals, silence—all start to feel magnetic.
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You crave truth. Raw, uncomfortable, liberating truth.
I’ve been there. I’ve seen countless souls go through this. And every single time, the message is the same: You are not lost. You are remembering.
This is your soul shedding its borrowed skin. Not to destroy you—but to reveal you.
I offer this journaling prompt in my private consultations, and I share it here now with you:
✍️ Prompt: “Who were you before the world told you who to be?”
Don’t rush to answer. Let the silence speak first. Let the memories return. The drawings you made as a child. The dreams you whispered before bed. The colours you were told were “too much.” It’s all waiting for you.
Identity awakening isn’t clean. It’s messy. But so is birth. And what you’re birthing now is a life that finally fits.
😶🌫️ What emotional effects come from not knowing your path?
Not knowing who you are doesn’t just sting—it bruises.
It shows up in quiet moments. That 3AM overthinking. The sudden tears in a coffee shop. The paralysis when you’re asked, “So, what do you want to do?”
This is more than confusion. It’s heartbreak. Not over a person—but over a self you haven’t met yet.
According to a 2024 APA report, 72% of Gen Z report feeling chronically uncertain about their future. That’s not just a statistic—it’s a symptom of collective disconnection. When you’re forced to perform instead of pause, you lose the language of your own truth.
I’ve sat across from clients whose achievements only deepened their emptiness. They weren’t failing. They were succeeding at lives that didn’t match their essence.
Signs of path-disconnection include:
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Constant comparison and shame spirals
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Overthinking basic decisions
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Digital burnout, numb scrolling
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Apathy toward achievements
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Mood swings without context
You’re not lazy. You’re not dramatic. You’re just misaligned.
When I say “A man walking”, I picture someone who has finally stopped running toward validation and started walking toward inner truth.
The world tells you to pick a lane. I say: pause and ask if this road even leads to you.
🧬 How do the inner child and ancestral voices mask your truth?
Here’s the twist: sometimes the loudest voices telling you who to be… aren’t even yours.
They belong to your parents. Your culture. Your lineage. Passed down not with malice, but with fear. Fear of scarcity. Fear of shame. Fear of being “too much.”
These ancestral voices shape your identity before you ever get a chance to define it.
I remember working with someone who said, “If I’m fully myself, I’ll disappoint everyone.” That wasn’t her truth. That was her conditioning.
The inner child hears everything. Every “Be practical.” Every “Don’t speak like that.” Every “That’s not for boys/girls.” And then it forgets its wildness. It plays safe. Until one day, safety becomes suffocation.
Your “lostness” might just be the grief of not being allowed to be real.
Healing starts with this acknowledgment: I am not here to repeat the story. I am here to rewrite it.
I wrote about this subtle transformation—the shift from inherited scripts to chosen truths—years ago in this piece about love and friendship. It isn’t just about romance. It’s about reclaiming the right to write your own ending.
So ask yourself this: What part of me have I exiled to make others comfortable?
And then ask: Am I ready to bring them home?
🪞How can reflection begin to heal the identity wound?
Healing the identity wound isn’t about building something new—it’s about uncovering what was buried.
The pain of being lost isn’t just psychological—it’s spiritual. And it begins to shift when we allow ourselves to pause and reflect without shame. Reflection is not a self-help trend. It is an act of spiritual rebellion in a world obsessed with speed.
Most of the souls I work with are not broken. They’re buried. Beneath roles. Beneath expectations. Beneath trauma that wasn’t even theirs to begin with.
Reflection begins when you start asking:
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Whose life am I living?
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Whose voice is loudest in my head—and is it even mine?
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Where did I abandon myself to survive?
These aren’t casual journal entries. These are resurrection questions.
Think of reflection like walking through a house you forgot you owned. Room by room. Light by light. Memory by memory. Some rooms are dusty with grief. Others are glowing with gifts you never unwrapped. But all of them are yours.
Here’s what I suggest:
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Don’t rush your reflection. Take one question. One feeling. One memory at a time.
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Let your body speak. Memories often live in the nervous system, not the mind. Notice where you feel tight when you recall certain events. That’s the clue.
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Write it raw. No filters. No edits. No need to sound “wise.” Sound real. That’s the wisdom.
And if you feel resistant to even starting? That’s okay. Sometimes, even facing the mirror hurts. But the pain of truth is lighter than the weight of pretending.
I often say in my workshops: Reflection is the invitation your soul has been waiting for. Accept it. With grace. With fire. With trembling hands, if needed. But accept it.
📝 What does the journaling prompt “Who were you before the world told you who to be?” reveal?
This prompt? It’s not a question. It’s a door.
"Who were you before the world told you who to be?" — when my clients first encounter this, they often sit in silence. Some tear up. Others laugh uncomfortably. But no one is left untouched.
Because beneath all our surface struggles lies this ache: We were once someone else. Someone wilder. Someone softer. Someone real.
Let me tell you what I’ve seen emerge from this question:
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A 34-year-old investment banker remembered she used to love painting elephants in orange crayons as a child. That night, she bought her first canvas in 17 years.
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A 28-year-old man whispered, “I used to write songs, then stopped when my dad said artists go hungry.” He cried, not because he missed music, but because music missed him.
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A 22-year-old girl, about to be engaged, broke it off after realising she was marrying her fear—not her future.
That’s the power of this question. It doesn’t give answers. It awakens memory.
So I offer this to you—not as homework, but as a sacred practice:
🔥 Write: “Who was I before the world told me who to be?”
🕯️ Then ask: “Which parts of that self still live in me?”
This question can feel overwhelming. But healing starts with honesty. And honesty begins when we let the forgotten parts of ourselves speak again.
And let me remind you—you are still in there. Beneath the deadlines. Beneath the “shoulds.” Beneath the algorithms. There’s a you who hasn’t forgotten how to feel deeply, love wildly, and believe without explanation.
They’re waiting. Pen in hand. Heart open.
🌌 What does Lal Kitab reveal about planetary imbalances and self-perception?
Let’s bring the cosmic into the conversation.
Many souls who feel lost aren’t just dealing with emotional confusion—they’re navigating energetic imbalance. And in my years studying Lal Kitab, one truth keeps returning: your planets are not punishing you—they’re revealing your karma.
Lal Kitab astrology speaks not in fear, but in reminders. It reveals which planetary influences may be dimming your sense of identity—and how to correct that imbalance through action and reflection.
Let’s look at some common patterns:
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Weak Sun (Surya): You doubt your worth. Struggle to feel seen. Often defer to others even when your inner voice knows better. Remedy: Offer water to the rising Sun each morning while affirming your power. Stand in sunlight—literally and metaphorically.
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Afflicted Moon (Chandra): Your emotions feel too much. Or numb. You crave connection but fear abandonment. Remedy: Drink water stored in a silver vessel. Sleep with a white handkerchief under your pillow. Write letters to your inner child.
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Unsteady Rahu: You feel scattered. Addicted to validation. Unsure if anything you do really matters. Remedy: Ground your energy. Walk barefoot on earth. Feed black dogs on Saturdays. Trust simplicity.
I wrote a deeper piece on karmic identity crises in this earlier reflection. Sometimes the healing isn't about doing more. It’s about understanding why you are the way you are—and choosing to realign.
The beauty of Lal Kitab lies in this truth: Remedies are not magic—they’re reminders. Sacred gestures that rewire forgotten parts of your soul. Small steps. Deep shifts.
So if you feel lost, check your chart. But don’t fear it. Let it guide you home.
🕯️ What rituals help you remember your soul’s purpose?
You don’t need a guru. Or a mountain. Or a passport to Bali.
You need rituals.
Small, consistent acts that whisper to your soul: You matter. You remember. You’re sacred.
In a world that teaches hustle, rituals teach healing. They anchor you when you drift. They honour your truth when society ignores it.
Here are a few I offer in my private practice—and use in my own life:
🌱 Morning Grounding
Before checking your phone, place your hand on your heart. Breathe. Ask:
“What do I need to honour today?”
Let your body answer. Not your to-do list.
🕊️ Soul Letters
Once a week, write a letter from your soul to yourself. Let it speak freely. Let it be wild, poetic, angry, absurd. Then read it aloud. There’s magic in being witnessed—by yourself.
🪔 Ancestral Flame
Light a diya for your lineage. Not just the ancestors you know—but the ones who weren’t allowed to dream. Whisper this:
“Your story ends with me. I choose freedom.”
📿 Mirror of Remembrance
Stand before a mirror. Say your name. Out loud. Slowly. Until it feels like a prayer. Ask:
“What part of me have I neglected?”
Don’t judge the answers. Honour them.
💌 Legacy Reflection (Weekly)
Every Sunday, ask:
“What am I building?”
“Will this still matter when I’m gone?”
And if the answer is no—pause and recalibrate.
I wrote about this sacred recalibration process in this intimate piece. Sometimes remembering who you are begins with choosing what you will no longer carry.
The soul doesn’t shout. It whispers. And these rituals? They’re how we learn to listen again.
📓 Where can you start? “The Soul Identity Workbook”
If you’ve read this far—if something inside you stirred, softened, or suddenly made sense—then you already know: this isn’t just a reading.
But returning to yourself isn’t a thought experiment. It’s a daily remembering.
And that’s why I created something different. A Soul Identity Workbook—a space where your forgotten self gets to speak again.
This isn’t some generic list of affirmations. It’s not “just” journaling. It’s not a trendy product. It’s a structured, sacred, slow-burning tool that meets you exactly where you are—whether you’re numb, broken, grieving, or quietly awakening.
Inside this workbook, you’ll engage with:
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✍️ Radical reflection questions that don’t let you hide behind roles or routines.
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🌗 Lal Kitab-aligned planetary journaling pages that gently explore your karmic blueprint and self-image distortions.
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🪞 Mirror rituals that help you confront, forgive, and reclaim the self you’ve abandoned.
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🗓️ Weekly clarity trackers for emotional energy, dreams, triggers, and intuitive nudges.
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📖 Sacred space to retell your origin story—not the one you were given, the one you remember.
You won’t find downloads or digital shortcuts here. And that’s intentional.
Because your soul doesn’t want speed. It wants depth.
Think of this workbook as:
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A companion for sleepless nights
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A quiet rebel against hustle culture
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A safe place for your inner voice to get louder
Let it live beside your incense, your bedside, your breath. Let it gather your grief and transmute it into insight. Let it remind you—you are not lost. You are being rewritten.
🔗 The Soul Identity Workbook is available now: Buy It Here
You won’t finish it in a weekend. But it will finish something inside you that no longer fits—so your becoming can begin.
💬 What part of you are you afraid to fully be?
Don’t answer it yet. Just breathe into it.
Because here’s what I know after all these years of guiding the unseen, the unheard, the silent: most people are not afraid of failure—they’re afraid of being fully seen.
Being “fully yourself” sounds poetic, but it’s terrifying when you’ve spent years learning how to edit, shrink, and polish your truth to fit into rooms not built for your soul.
I’ve sat across from:
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Men raised to be strong, now trembling as they admit, “I miss my father, and I don’t know how to grieve him.”
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Women told to be quiet, now screaming on the inside because silence never gave them peace.
They are not lost. They are protecting sacred pieces of themselves. Pieces they were once shamed for.
So I ask you—what part of you are you afraid to fully be?
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The artist?
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The rebel?
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The slow one in a fast world?
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The wildly sensitive soul in a numb society?
That version of you—the one you’ve hidden to be accepted—is the key to your healing.
When you embrace that self, you stop performing. You start living.
So today, light a candle. Whisper your truth. And if your voice shakes, let it. Your soul doesn’t need a microphone—it needs permission.
🌱 Who would you be without needing to be impressive?
If you weren’t trying to be liked, approved, admired... who would you be?
Would you rest more? Laugh louder? Cry deeper?
Would you say no more often? Would you finally say yes to what scares you?
This question is the crack in the armour of performance. It’s what I ask every client who’s built a life around being “impressive” but not honest.
Because most of us were never taught that we are valuable simply because we exist. We were taught to earn love, prove worth, hustle for belonging.
But what if your worth was never meant to be transactional?
What if your presence is the proof?
Here’s a truth I’ve come to hold sacred:
Impressiveness is exhausting. Authenticity is enlivening.
So I challenge you—for one day, don’t post to impress. Don’t speak to impress. Don’t decide based on how “on-brand” it looks.
Just be. Watch who stays. Watch what awakens. Watch how your body exhales for the first time in years.
You are not here to impress. You are here to remember.
🧘🏽♀️ You Are Not Lost. You Are Remembering.
You are not a mess. You are a miracle in transition.
You are not behind. You are right on time—for your soul.
You are not broken. You are breaking free.
Somewhere, a man is walking—not running, not rushing. Just walking. Toward himself. Away from noise. Toward truth.
Let that image stay with you.
You were never meant to walk anyone else’s path. You came here for something wild, sacred, slow. A legacy that heals. A truth that liberates. A life that fits your soul—not just your résumé.
So pause. Reflect. Choose again.
And if you need a companion on that journey—someone who sees the sacred in your struggle, someone who doesn’t just help you “figure it out” but helps you feel it through—you can always book a session.
💬 Book a paid soul consultation with me
And while you’re at it—if this article has stirred something, if it made you breathe deeper, cry harder, or finally feel seen—I invite you to go deeper.
📖 Buy my book: Burn the Old Map
It’s not just a title. It’s a declaration.
You’re not here to be impressive. You’re here to be whole.
❓Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)
Q1: I feel completely disconnected from myself. Where do I even start?
A: Start small. A five-minute reflection. A breath. A journal entry. Begin with honesty, not perfection. That’s where soul remembrance begins.Q2: Can astrology really help with my identity crisis?
A: Yes. Especially systems like Lal Kitab, which connect emotional imbalances with planetary influences. It doesn’t replace therapy—but it beautifully complements healing.
Q3: What if my parents or culture don’t support the life I want?
A: Your healing is not a betrayal. It’s a gift to your lineage. Be the ancestor your family never had. Break the cycle with love, not rebellion.
Q4: Is being “lost” always bad?
A: No. Sometimes being lost is your soul’s way of guiding you home. Embrace it. Walk it. You’ll remember who you are along the way.
Q5: How do I know if I’m ready to reconnect with my soul identity?
A: If you're reading this with tears, anger, confusion—or deep resonance—you’re ready. Not because you have the answers. But because you’re finally asking the right questions.
👤 Author
Tushar Mangl is a counselor, vastu expert, author of Burn the Old Map, I Will Do It, and Ardika. He writes on topics like food, books, personal finance, investments, mental health, vastu, and the art of living a balanced life. Blogging at tusharmangl.com since 2006.“I help unseen souls design lives, spaces, and relationships that heal and elevate—through ancient wisdom, energetic alignment, and grounded action.”
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