There’s a new self-help idea making the rounds on social media and in the manifestation world: identity shifting.

Jillz Guerin, a creator at the intersection of manifestation and womanhood, recently put it this way:

At it’s core, this isn’t new. James Clear wrote about identity-based habits back in 2013, and the idea sits at the heart of his perennial bestseller Atomic Habits.

But as I’ve embarked on what feels like a full life overhaul, I’ve been sitting with it differently.

What does it mean for a woman who has spent nearly two decades on Wall Street and in tech to start writing, singing, and launching a podcast?
Am I a creative now? An entrepreneur? An influencer?

And if I hesitate to claim those identities — does that make me an imposter?

Imposter syndrome, I’m realizing, is as much about identity as it is about competence.

At first, those labels felt like a scratchy sweater I couldn’t wait to take off. I hadn’t seen myself that way before, and wearing them made me feel like a fraud.

Which, ironically, is exactly the point these identity-shifting conversations are making.

But there’s something strange about being told that the path to authenticity requires stepping into an identity that feels inauthentic — at least at the start.

For me, that discomfort lasted until I was reminded of who I was — who I had always been.

—

That reminder came during a New Year’s session with my life coach, Kristina Leonardi.

I was telling her how uneasy I felt embracing this “new” identity — how compulsory it seemed, how performative it felt. She paused and said:

This isn’t about inhabiting an aspirational identity. It’s about reclaiming a truth you’ve been estranged from.

She’s right. There are so many aspects of what I’m building with Unpopular Decisions that draw directly from my earliest interests.

I worked in audio entertainment. I worked in event ticketing. I had a blog more than a decade ago. I’ve always been drawn to storytelling, conversation, and creating space for people to connect.

So why did this feel so new?

That question lingered until a moment two weeks ago, when my sister and I were helping our mom clear out her home—as dutiful daughters tend to do— as she prepares to move to Florida — as retirees tend to do.

Somewhere between expired canned goods and unworn Marshall’s finds, I came across old photos of myself.

We laughed immediately.

In them, I’m doing the absolute most in my Halloween costumes — stealing the show from my cousins, striking pose after pose. Fully unfiltered. Fully expressive.

And suddenly, I thought about something that had happened just weeks earlier.

I was doing my first editorial-style photoshoot for this platform. When the photographer asked if I had any requests or direction, I froze.

“I’m not an influencer,” I blurted out. “I’m new to this.”

But once the camera came on, something shifted. I wasn’t nervous. The shots flowed. They felt natural.

Afterward, the photographer laughed and said, “Don’t say you aren’t an influencer. You’re a natural.”

That’s when it clicked.

This isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you’ve always been.

When I tell friends and colleagues from years ago that I’m launching a podcast and media platform, their reactions are immediate:

“Of course you are.”
“That’s so you.”

Was I the only one who didn’t see it?

I share this story as a counterbalance to a culture obsessed with newness.
New identities. New hobbies. New friends. New me, who dis.

What if growth is about returning to what has always made you you?

What if the life you’ve been trying to escape is the mask — and the version that feels distant is actually the real one?

Seen through that lens, identity shifting isn’t about faking it until you make it. It’s about remembering. About reconnecting with the unfiltered essence of your younger self. About reestablishing the throughline that’s been quietly guiding you all along.

When I look at those Halloween photos next to the images from my recent shoot, I see what I’d been hiding in plain sight.

The manifestation girlies and gents are right: you can only go as far as the person you see yourself as.

But the person you’re trying to become may be much closer than you think.
It may already be you.

If you’re trying to reconnect with lost versions of yourself, start small.

Look through old photo albums.
Revisit the hobbies you abandoned for “practical” reasons.
Reconnect with people who knew you before you edited yourself.
Say yes to what sparks curiosity.
Invite play back into your life.

Sometimes, the way forward isn’t about invention — it’s about retrieval.

For now, I’m glad you’re here.

— Jameelah

P.S. What’s in your lost and found? What hobbies, identities, or versions of yourself do you want to re-ignite in 2026?

Reply directly to this email or comment on this post. I read every note.

P.P.S. I’ll share a few behind-the-scenes clips from my photoshoot soon — they feel like a full-circle moment after writing this.