Once upon a time I was an aimless girl who twisted herself into a little pretzel to win over a man. He was a decent man, with his own complexes and flaws, who led me down the primrose path into the Islamic Republic of Iran. This did not go well.

As with any episode in life one can write a whole book about, I learned a great many lessons.

• I learned that getting married is not the foolproof plan to getting what we want.
• I learned that if we don’t have dreams of our own, we end up living someone else’s.
• I learned that when we deny the truth of who we are, we end up…well, in places like Iran.

But mostly, I learned that we can’t skip the hard stuff—developing inner knowledge, independence, facing the challenges of life for a personal dream, encountering pain—we can only put it off.

There are times in our lives where we all struggle with identity. For me, the last years of college and entry into the workforce were probably the worst. Because I couldn’t see the next steps ahead of me, only a gaping abyss.

From the outside, I looked like I had it going on— reasonably good-looking, educated, lots of friends— but on the inside, things were pretty grim.  I was a floater, unsure of my own opinions or goals, an imitation adult who was still looking for a Daddy to show me the way.

This, of course, is the part where the boyfriend comes in. An Iranian ten years my senior who’d been my chemistry T.A. Unlike me, he always seemed to know exactly where to go, what to do.  He was so sure of himself.  So comfortable in his own skin, so confident in his opinions, so unapologetic for who he was.  I saw his essence as the perfect corrective to my insecurity and lack of direction.

Instead of taking a stab at an adult life after I graduated—getting my own apartment, building a career, and developing some satisfying hobbies—I turned my obsessive focus on him.  I spent every waking moment trying to please him. I became someone I was not. Beyond attachment to my man, I hadn’t the slightest idea who I was.

We married.

We moved to Iran.

We—no surprises here— got divorced.

Finding an identity is tough. I know women who’ve stayed in bad marriages, and this includes me, because the idea of going out on one’s own, of finding the right path (as if there’s only one), of having no one else to blame when you come up short, feels far more uncomfortable. The journey required looks way too daunting.

But. At some point we have to stop running away from our selves. We have to figure out who we are, and what we want.

During my 30’s, I found the outline of myself very, very slowly. It started with, ironically, running.  One mile at first, then marathons.  For the first time in my life, I felt strong and confident. I realized that one step at a time was all that was needed. That I didn’t have to know how I would do it, I just needed to start.

Every year I try something daring, because facing down fear is how great things start. I climbed big mountains. I ran ultra-marathons. I sailed blue waters. I learned to scuba dive. I married (after I swore I never would) an astounding, loving man who values me.

I finally figured out what I couldn’t when I was young: to be an adult, a whole integral person, we have to make mistakes, get off course, endure discomfort, and doubt ourselves. We have to endure. The knowledge that we can reach a “summit” despite the setbacks is what puts the strut in our step.

And it was this strut in my step that other people started noticing.  I was throwing my shoulders back, putting on a smile, and sauntering into rooms like I owned the joint.

Like those folks who drop half their body weight over the course of years, acquaintances did a double take when they saw the “new” me.  They asked me for my secrets.  How had I gained such confidence, tripped over such a terrific relationship, developed such an adventurous lifestyle? How, they wondered, had I found my groove, my sense of purpose?  And could we meet for coffee and talk it over. Maybe I could toss around a few pointers.

It is said that we teach what we need to learn. For me, this is true. Like that former fat girl, I worry that without constant vigilance, I will revert to the person I once was.  In times of stress, I can still hear the old siren song, the one that tells me life will be easier if I people please, if I keep quiet, if I dismiss my own wants and needs. I still understand the impulse to hand the car keys of one’s life over to someone else in order to shirk responsibility.

Afraid of being a fraud, I was reluctant to step into the coaching role.

Then one day I was sitting in yet another seminar and I heard someone say:  To every third grader, a fourth grader is a hero. And I realized that I didn’t have to be a paragon of virtue to help someone else.  I just needed to be one step ahead of them on the gravel road.

I’d spent thousands of dollars investing in my personal growth. I’d worked with top-notch coaches. I’d spent years analyzing who I was and where I’d gone wrong in order to write a book, a book worth reading. I’d explored, ad nauseum, the lessons I’d learned from adventures and misadventures in my blog. I understood, better than any fifth grader I’d ever met, the pitfalls, mindset, and habits that held women like me back.

So I started speaking, and coaching.  I reached out to women who secretly feared that without a lover, or a spouse, or dependent children, they had no function, identity, or worth. To those with the sneaking suspicion that it should, and it could be different.

I discovered the most important things these women (including me) needed to work on:

• Saying No
• Cutting the nice girl crap
• Uncovering dreams long thought dead
• Remembering what’s fun
• Accomplishing something huge and scary and seemingly impossible for empowerment’s sake
• Getting back into physical shape
• Creating healthy boundaries so as not to be sucked dry
• Asking the hard questions one tends to avoid like the plague
• Telling the truth by saying what one feels
• Carving out personal space
• Releasing the death grip on the past and those relationships that no longer serve

Therein lies the secret to attracting better jobs, lovers, and friends.  We simply embrace the woman we were always meant to be. We push our limits. We acknowledge and defend our desires.  We fix a higher price tag on ourselves so that others will too.

Here’s what I want to share with you:

We can postpone developing an identity—complete with dreams and goals.  We can put off risking ourselves out there in the great big world.  But, we can’t escape it for good.  Sometimes we tiptoe forward on our own accord; sometimes life gives us a helpful boot. Unfortunately, happiness, a sense of self, and self-esteem must be won the old fashioned way:  it must be earned.