I realize it’s October now, but this post has been brewing for some time. (FYI: it’s a gushy one.)

Following the summer, I’ve been bursting with joy. And I mean an overflowing, buzzing, the-birds-are-singing-and-life-is-beautiful kind of joy. It’s something I haven’t felt in a long time.

My big summer trips were with people I love (and grew to love) very much. Being around them showed me how much I’m inspired by those who listen well, stay open and socially aware, and are quick to help others. We were all very different, but our shared faith led us to care for one another and to be vulnerable far more quickly than most relationships allow. That closeness made me realize how long I’d spent trying to fit into molds that were never meant for me.

Whenever I move to a new place, I try to be different things to mirror various social groups. I’ve tried to change my humor to match a group of extremely smart friends. I’ve pushed myself to be more outgoing to mesh with the Christian crowd. I’ve played the cool, sporty girl who acts tough and independent. I’ve also tried to get into the artsier, musical crowd, though I don’t feel quite knowledgeable or passionate enough to keep up.

It gets tiring to keep altering parts of myself to fit in. But this past summer, I felt like I was rediscovering who I am inside, beyond the cool or silly facades.

Throughout the Japan trip, and again in Boston, I went quiet when I was exhausted after a long day. I didn’t scramble to fill the silence or perform an energetic version of myself, and nobody seemed to mind or feel the need to ask if something was wrong. That was its own small relief. In Boston, I made plenty of mistakes while driving, exposing a “weakness.” No one judged me or made me feel incompetent. I made jokes that were sometimes on point, sometimes off topic. Other times, I struggled to find words to explain just what I wanted to say, and my companions were patient and listened.

Being a little quirky, a little particular, a little smart, a little dumb: I hide different parts of myself depending on who I’m with and the image I want to portray. But in those moments, I stopped performing and let the real me show. Not only did the people I traveled with accept me for who I am, but seeing their acceptance helped me embrace every quirky, particular, imperfect piece of myself.

This authenticity has trickled into my friend groups, where I’ve become (slightly) less performative and more honest about what I want. I feel less annoyed by people and don’t overthink as much about initiating plans (though I still wish someone else would take charge sometimes). When it becomes tempting to overthink, close myself off, or think negatively about a situation, I just remember that I have people in my life who care about me for who I am, not who I appear to be.

As a result of accepting and expressing myself more honestly, it’s also been really wonderful getting to explore creatively. I finally started my hobbies Instagram account, and I feel free to post reels and whatever else I want. I post climbing routes I’m proud of, cocktail recipes I love, and events I’m excited to share about. I’ve been pushing past my self-doubt to sing and play music in front of others, write more songs, and take ownership of these skills I’m still developing.

I also (finally) attended the weekly fiction writing meetup I’ve had on my calendar for more than a year. It’s both inspiring and intimidating, to say the least. But regardless of how I feel after I finish writing, there’s still that moment when I open Microsoft Word on my laptop or my Moleskine to a fresh page—a buzz of excitement rushes through me as if I’m about to get off the plane to explore someplace new.

Life’s not perfect. I still have highs and lows week by week. But something deeper has changed within me—a year of budding transformation that finally came to fruition this past summer. I feel lighter, happier, and more confident that God’s got me and I am capable. I don’t know how long this joyful feeling will last, but I still leave work some days humming with a smile for no particular reason.

Living without the fear of judgment is a wonderful, healing thing.

With all the blessings and joy I’ve experienced this year, I know I don’t want to hoard it. Joy’s meant to overflow, not stay contained. So one question I ask myself everywhere nowadays is: how can I be a blessing? God has given me so much, and to me, the best way to show gratitude is by sharing with others—to spread joy, encouragement, inspiration, hope, and a whole lot of fun.