Why are we here?

It’s a question I’ve asked myself for as long as I can remember.
Why are we here? What’s the point of it all?

For years, no answer came.

But there’s a strange clarity that arrives when you’ve stared death in the eyes. The questions that once felt unanswerable start to whisper back to you.

Before my awakening when my view on life was out of focus, I lived almost entirely for others.
My days revolved around my family, my children, the endless tasks of caring, nurturing, organizing, and doing. I thought that was what being a “good” woman meant, giving everything, needing nothing.

I searched for meaning through the people I loved, the things I did, the roles I played. I was a mother, a partner, a daughter, a friend. I wore each title like a badge of honour, yet deep down I often felt like I was disappearing beneath them.

But when I look back now, I see how small my world had become.

I was living from the surface, through expectations, routines, and labels.
I had forgotten what it meant to know me.

I was the mother who could only talk about her kids because she didn’t know herself beyond them.
I was the wife who moved through life on autopilot, pouring out love and energy while quietly starving for her own.
I was the woman who didn’t know what she loved, what she wanted, or who she truly was outside the context of everyone else.

Then one day, my soul began to whisper: Who am I?

At first, it was subtle. A faint pull in moments of stillness, in the spaces between the noise. But the question grew louder, more insistent. It began to echo through my thoughts, through my body, through everything I did.

Who am I… really?

And that’s when the unraveling began.

The more I turned inward, the more I realized how much of my identity had been built around pleasing, performing, and protecting others. I started to peel back the layers, the “shoulds,” the stories, the masks, and I began to meet myself again.

What I discovered was both humbling and liberating.

Being a wife and mother is a sacred part of who I am, but it’s only the tip of the iceberg.
Beneath it all, I found depth and texture and colour I never knew existed.

I learned that I am more introverted than I ever believed, that I crave silence, stillness, and time alone in nature.
I discovered that solitude is not loneliness, it is communion.
I learned that service fills my soul in a way nothing else does, that I’m here to hold space, to guide, and to walk alongside women as they find their own truth and healing.
I uncovered creativity I had buried under duty, wisdom I had quieted to keep the peace, power I had dimmed to stay small.

And most beautifully, I found a love for myself within me, deep and steady and unconditional, that had been waiting all along.

If I hadn’t taken that time to be with myself, to meditate, to listen, to ask this question again and again, I might have gone my entire life without truly knowing me.

Without ever feeling what it means to live from soul, not from story.

Now, when I ask Why are we here?, the answer feels simple, though not always easy.

We are here to remember who we are.

To come home to ourselves.
To live as the fullest expression of the soul within this one precious body.

Everything else, the roles, the titles, the successes, they’re beautiful parts of the human experience, but they’re not the whole truth.

The truth is found in the quiet moments.
In the breath.
In the stillness where you finally meet yourself and say, there you are.

So I’ll leave you with the same question that changed my life:

Sit with it. Ask it often. Let it soften you, challenge you, break you open.
Because somewhere within that question lies the freedom and peace you’ve been searching for all along.

I’d love for you to share your thoughts and feelings in the comments.

With gratitude,

Jules xx