Your Turn
looking to hear some of your stories
There’s something quietly radical about choosing to change—not because life demanded it, but because something inside you insisted it was time.
I’m not talking about the kinds of transformation sparked by major life events. Not the things that humans cannot experience and stay the same; having a child, surviving illness, going off to war, or coming home again. I mean the quieter revolutions: the moment you decided to stop drinking, or start painting; to leave a job that looked good on paper; to say no more often, or yes more freely.
The moment you realized you didn’t like yourself and decided to become someone you could like better.
I’m interested in hearing about the self-initiated shifts that often go unnoticed but can reshape an entire life.
My interest is sparked, in part, because I’ve been reading about American history and thinking about how deeply this country has transformed over time—not just through legislation or war, but through the choices ordinary people made.
Because in a nation where personal freedom is a defining value, our lives are often shaped as much by internal decisions as by external circumstances.
What does an American life look like today, when so many outcomes are determined not by fate but by choice?
I’d love to hear your stories—moments of personal change you undertook on your own, when you said, “I want something different,” and made it real.
Comments are open to everyone for now, though I reserve the right to limit them to paid subscribers—or to close them entirely—if the conversation loses focus. I’m not religious, and while I respect that faith can be transformative for some, I’m specifically looking for stories where the change came from within, not from a conversion experience.
And just a note on tone: I’m interested in honest reflection, not cynicism. Comments dismissing the possibility of change (“people never really change,” etc.) won’t add to the conversation and may be removed.
I’m interested in people who have changed and therefore know it’s possible, and hoping the conversation can stay generous, thoughtful, and rooted in both optimism and curiosity.
If your change story is too personal for the comment section, I invite you to email me at hollymathnerd at gmail dot com — but please understand my public email stays crowded. I read everything but can rarely reply.
Thanking you all in advance…..
It was the moment I saw her face in mine. I was feeling angry and frustrated as my two sons refused to do what I told them to do. I started swatting them on the rear end with my open hand and there she was; the stepmother who had shouted at me, demeaning me and followed by hitting me with the belt over and over again. I know an open hand isn't the same as a leather belt, but somehow there she was, in me. I felt a deep sense of shame.
I stopped and sent them to their room with some books and told them to just read for an hour. That's the day I searched out a therapist to deal with my anger at someone who was no longer in my life, the shame I felt as she dragged me around in a circle whipping me. I knew I had to be done with whatever this was, not take it out on my boys. I never hit them again. My therapist helped me to see that the feelings that came up were not about the boys, they were about me, and I could do something about that. I still have a wonderful relationship with them. We can talk on deeper levels, and it was because I decided, in that moment, to not allow my past to control my future.
This is wonderful, I hope you get heaps of great responses and look forward to reading them.
Mine would be leaving the "dream job" I landed in my early 20s, because (forgive the melodrama, there's no other way to put it) it wasn't worth the cost of my soul. Through outrageous luck I had somehow managed to score a role as content director for a big entertainment website. All the hype, glamour, partying with bottom-to-mid-tier celebrities, free concerts, free *everything*. It was exactly as hollow, carcinogenic and stupid as you can imagine. I can't know all the lives I haven't lived, but I think I am very probably a lesser person because of those years and what happened there.
The moment I knew I was leaving came when a huge disaster had just happened in a big neighbouring city. Awful death toll, everyone horrified and shocked watching the TV, and when I went back to check my computer there were a bunch of excited emails from the big boss telling me this was "an incredible opportunity to leverage traffic for ad revenue" and I had better be finding ways to "make the most of it". I just picked up my bag and left, nobody noticed, walked home and just sat for the rest of the afternoon.
Handed in my notice the next day, then went off to teach sailing and get certified to work offshore boats. Everyone thought I had lost my fucking mind, but the day I left I knew I was the most sane person in the building.