Hi, I’m Omar, the founder and CEO of Kinnect. This blog is part of the "From Omar" series, where I share my reflections on family, relationships, and the memories we carry. These aren’t polished —
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we see ourselves—not just how we look or how others see us, but how we recognize our growth.
I’m in my 30s now, and I notice moments where I question whether I’m changing or life is shifting around me. Am I different, or are my routines just evolving? It’s not always obvious.
Like today, I went kayaking. That sounds cool, but it wasn’t as smooth as it sounds. The ocean was wild. I felt unsettled as if I wasn’t fully ready for the experience. Part of me wondered, Is it the water or me? I kept thinking about how the younger me would have handled it. Would he have jumped in without hesitation? Would he have been more fearless, present, and less caught up in his head?
But then I thought: Maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit. The younger me didn’t know what I know now. The younger me didn’t have patience. He didn’t think ahead. He couldn’t sit in discomfort and still keep going.
That’s the version of myself I’m sitting with right now — the one that’s still learning to honor all of who I am. Not just the "braver" version of me from the past, but also the version of me right now, doing his best in the moment he’s in.
The difference between seeing who you were and seeing who you are
A lot about the way we track our growth.
There are journals for our thoughts, photos for our memories, and even apps that track what we did on "this day" a year ago. But none of those things show who we are becoming. They capture isolated moments, not the bigger story.
A journal tells you how you felt on a specific day, but it doesn’t show the arc of how you’ve changed. A photo shows you a single image but doesn’t capture what is happening inside you.
That’s why I’m so drawn to shared moments — not just the solo ones we track for ourselves, but the experiences we have with others. Because if I think about who I am today, I don’t see it in my journal entries. I see it in the way my relationships have shifted. I see how I handle things differently now than five years ago.
There’s something about shared experiences that helps you see yourself more clearly. Not just your "best self" or your "most successful self," but all of you — the messy, in-between parts too. The parts that don’t fit neatly into a highlight reel.
That’s what I’m trying to improve: seeing myself, not just in the apparent moments but in the quiet, overlooked ones, too.
Why it’s hard to see growth in the moment
I’ve learned that you rarely notice growth while it’s happening.
If you had asked me during kayaking today if I was "growing," I would have laughed. I wasn’t thinking about growth. I thought about how hard it was to paddle and how much I wanted to be on steady ground. But looking back, I see it differently.
Growth is like that. It’s never something you feel in the moment. It’s something you see later. That’s why so many of us question if we’re changing. We expect it to feel like a significant, apparent shift — but that’s not how it works. Growth is subtle. It’s quiet. It happens in the middle of discomfort, not at the end of it.
I used to think growth was about "leveling up" into a better version of myself. But now I see it differently. Growth isn’t about being better—it’s about being more aware of how you handle fear, process change, and show up for yourself, even when it’s hard.
That awareness doesn’t come all at once. It’s something you notice when you look back.
The power of pre-writing your future self
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