Feeling torn between the life I built and the life that built me

I’m 29F, and for most of my life I’ve lived in a very unconventional way.

I grew up homeschooled, spending summers at my parents’ remote fishing lodge in Northern Ontario, and winters traveling across the U.S. for trade shows. My childhood gave me a deep connection to the land and a lifelong affinity for northern, remote places.

From my late teens into my mid-20s, I lived all over the map. I backpacked Europe and Southeast Asia, studied tourism, lived in the Yukon, Toronto, Newfoundland, and even France. I’ve lived in trailer parks and I’ve lived around extreme wealth. I’ve worked with train hoppers and nomads, and I’ve worked with the 1% of the 1%. One of my exes was a Hermetic, off-grid, cross-dressing punk intellectual. My life was always this strange, intentional mix of high society and the fringes of society—something I crafted on purpose.

Then the pandemic hit, and everything changed.

I had planned to take over my family’s lodge, but COVID devastated the business. My family’s financial situation became incredibly stressful. I ended up taking a government office job (the lodge was no longer an option). I bought a house because renting cost more. I fell into one of the darkest depressions of my life, became suicidal, and ended up in a severely abusive relationship. It has taken me five years to climb out of that.

Sometimes I feel like I went through a “dark night of the soul.” Other times I just feel lost, unsure of who I’m meant to be now.

At present, my life is very normal. I go to my office job. I live paycheque to paycheque. I pay bills. I’m dating a genuinely good, stable man who has a solid career and would make a great father. It feels like my life is now moving toward a very suburban, upper-middle-class future. There’s nothing wrong with that.

But inside me still lives the gritty, intuitive, defiant part of myself—the version of me who lived by instinct, creativity, storytelling, and connection to the land.

I don’t know where to go from here.

I can’t tell if this is just adulthood and I’m resisting it, or if I’m meant to reclaim pieces of the life I had before. I don’t know if I should continue settling into this stable, structured direction… or if I’m meant to start over again and live more authentically.

Has anyone else been through this? Does this sound like growing pains, grief, immaturity, or something else entirely?

Thanks for reading.