新媒网 · 跨境数据社区

I spent years chasing a path I was obsessed with—without realizing that obsession was partly fueled by a deeper need for validation I never received in the ways I should have. Now, five years removed, I find myself questioning: Did I truly love what I did, or was I just good at it? Was it passion or an escape from pain? I’ve come to realize it was both. Part of it was the freedom to express myself on my own terms, a piece of me I had lost and later reconnected with. But a bigger part? It was a way to avoid everything I didn’t want to feel. I was caught in a self-created trap—one that led to depression and a complete loss of identity. I was terrified of being seen without the mask because beneath it was someone I didn’t believe was enough. Letting go of that identity wasn’t easy. It meant giving up the thing that made me feel worthy, the thing I used to prove my value—not just to myself, but to the world. It also meant confronting the guilt I carried over my little brother’s passing. For years, I forced myself to stay on that path out of obligation. Letting go felt like betrayal. But in reality, it revealed how much I had been outsourcing my sense of self-worth to external validation. I had built my identity around performing a role I thought others would accept, believing that was the key to belonging. But the truth? The people who truly mattered never needed me to prove anything—they just wanted me to be happy. Now, five years after walking away from BMX, I’m at peace with who I am. More importantly, I have the courage to keep exploring the parts of myself I abandoned—to lean into the discomfort of fully being myself, without the mask. I call this my quest to progress—a pursuit of authentic expression. Not overriding my emotions. Not working against my body or nervous system. Not performing for outside validation. Not trying to get everything “right” to hide my flaws. Just me—learning to sit in the discomfort of being seen as I truly am. Josh P. 💚🧠✌🏼